“Fitzwilliam!” boomed Lady Catherine as she entered the room.
It was a facet of Lady Catherine’s character that did not allow her to speak in the moderate tone that most others used. The woman appeared to believe that unless she spoke loud enough to ensure everyone within a five-mile radius could hear her, those nearby would find themselves unable to make out her words. Either that, or she was so desperate to be heard that she utilized the power of her voice to ensure it.
“What do you do here?”
Fitzwilliam leaned back in his chair, showing Lady Catherine an insouciant grin that he knew would annoy her. “Good day to you, too, Lady Catherine. Though I hope you had an enjoyable journey from Kent, I will note that we had no word of your intention to join us here.”
The way Lady Catherine’s eyes blazed at him, Fitzwilliam knew she was angry with his lack of answer. Clear though it was, however, she did not hesitate to respond.
“Why should I not come? My dear sister’s only son has passed on; do you suppose I would ignore such a significant event?” Lady Catherine eyed Fitzwilliam, a hint of her ever-present displeasure showing itself. “For that matter, I wonder why I did not learn of this business the moment it happened. After all, I am Darcy’s nearest relation.”
“I think my uncle would dispute your claim,” returned Fitzwilliam, allowing more than a hint of wryness into his tone, “to say nothing of Georgiana.”
“It matters not,” snapped Lady Catherine. “Do not obfuscate, Fitzwilliam. You should have informed me the moment you learned of Darcy’s passing.”
“My father informed you as required,” said Fitzwilliam, unwilling to continue to exchange comments of this nature with his irascible aunt. “As for your other question, my father and I deemed me the logical choice to come to Pemberley, given my relationship with Georgiana.”
Lady Catherine sniffed with disdain; that was not much different than her usual behavior. “Yes, I suppose you must be correct. At the appropriate time, we will discuss Georgiana’s disposition.”
Then, turning to Darcy, Lady Catherine said: “This, I suppose, must be the new master of Pemberley. You will introduce me to his acquaintance now, Fitzwilliam.”
Again, in a move guaranteed to provoke her ladyship’s displeasure, Fitzwilliam offered a mock bow and gestured to Darcy, who was looking on with something akin to astonishment.
“Of course, Aunt. Your wish is my command. Please allow me to present my cousin Jameson Darcy’s relation and the new master of Pemberley, Fitzwilliam Darcy. Darcy, if you have not already guessed, this is my aunt, my father’s sister, Lady Catherine de Bourgh.”
Though it was obvious to Fitzwilliam, Darcy wished to do almost anything but become acquainted with the lady of whom he had heard so much, so little of it positive; it escaped Lady Catherine’s attention, for she was almost always blind and could see nothing of others’ antipathy for her. Yet Darcy proved his pluck, bowing to Lady Catherine and murmuring a few words of pleasure, all of which were feigned. On Lady Catherine’s part, she did nothing more than allow a regal nod of her head, almost imperceptible.
“Well, I suppose you are acceptable,” intoned Lady Catherine, sizing Darcy up as if he were naught but a side of beef. Darcy started as if shocked, nearly setting Fitzwilliam to laughter. “It appears, however, that there is at least something for me to work with. We must start directly, for the circles in which you must now move are not those to which you are accustomed. If you are to be ready to move in London society during the season, I must train you now.”
Though Fitzwilliam was facing Lady Catherine, Darcy was near enough that he could see his reaction to Lady Catherine’s ill-bred comments. Far from being shocked or amused as he had heretofore been, this time Lady Catherine’s presumption annoyed Darcy.
“If you are not already aware,” said Darcy, the gales of winter in his voice, “I am well acquainted with society and have moved among my peers for these past three years.”
“Nonsense,” snapped Lady Catherine. “The levels of society you have inhabited are nothing compared to the circles in which you must now move. To find success in those waters, you must have training.”
“If you feel there are subjects of which I lack knowledge, you may, of course, inform me. However, I shall consult my understanding when I move in society, even if my rank is now higher than it was.”
For the first time since she had entered the room, Fitzwilliam noted his aunt watching Darcy, her displeasure evidence that she now understood she may not have her way with the new master of the estate. Though she had credited it little, Jameson Darcy had listened to her advice but rarely, the evidence of which was the man’s still unmarried state upon his passing despite Lady Catherine’s insistence over the years that he marry her daughter. Lady Catherine would not accept the notion, but Fitzwilliam had sure knowledge that he had never had any intention of following her dictates and offering for Anne. Fitzwilliam Darcy possessed as much firmness of purpose as his cousin had. He would need it, considering Lady Catherine’s character.
“Yes, well,” said Lady Catherine, intent upon gathering her means of persuasion for the coming battle, “we may discuss such subjects later. At present, I wish to refresh myself in my room. You will call the housekeeper to have my usual room prepared, after which I shall go there and ready myself for the evening.”
Mrs. Reynolds’s prompt arrival when called proved the woman had intelligence of Lady Catherine’s arrival — as if anyone could remain unaware given Lady Catherine’s ability to cause a ruckus. Long accustomed to the lady’s ways, Mrs.Reynolds rendered Lady Catherine as content as she could ever be when she informed the lady that her room was ready for her occupation. Lady Catherine acknowledged her with a curt nod and followed her from the room, leaving the men watching the place where she had departed with no little bemusement.
“Well, Darcy,” said Fitzwilliam, arching his eyebrows at his companion. “What do you think of my aunt?”
“Had you attempted to inform me of the reality of her character before I made her acquaintance, I would have accused you of embellishment.”
“The unfortunate bane of my family’s existence is that Lady Catherine needs no embellishment.”
“Yes,” murmured Darcy. “I can see that now.”
WILLIAM’S LETTERS WEREa lifeline for Elizabeth. During the time of separation, they were a witness to her heart that he still cared, that he would return at the first moment he could, that their wedding was delayed and not canceled. Though Elizabeth endured the teasing of her family, she read his letters without delay, always long anticipated though they arrived two or three times a week, even if it was before her grinning family.
The proposed journey to the north was also a source of anticipation and delight, for William had spoken many times of it in such terms that Elizabeth soon considered it a matter of fact. The longer he was away, the firmer the plans became, until they had decided on the dates of Elizabeth’s travel. There was only one remaining question—whether she would go alone in Mrs. Darcy’s company, or if any members of her family would also accompany them.
“Interested though I am to see Darcy’s new property,” stated her father the day they gathered to make the final plans, “I shallnot travel to Pemberley. As I have little liking for travel, I shall be content to remain here.”
“Oh, Mr. Bennet,” said his wife, her glance heavenward suggesting she prayed for patience, “we all know of your preferences. I never supposedyouwould consent to going.”
