“I did not wish to trouble you with such nonsense.” He had hoped his letter to Wickham would end the matter quietly, but clearly the situation had spiraled far beyond his control. “What exactly has Collins reported?
“He writes that Miss Bennet confided in some militia officer about your supposed proposal. When you denied it,the officer shared your letter at a public gathering, and now the entire neighborhood considers you a lying scoundrel who compromises innocent young women.”
“The officer being Lieutenant Wickham, I presume,” Darcy said grimly.
“Collins mentioned the name specifically. Apparently, this Wickham fellow presented himself as Miss Bennet’s defender and shared your correspondence with half the county. How could you be so careless as to put such denials in writing?”
Darcy’s hands clenched into fists. He had been outmaneuvered by Wickham once again, though this time the weapon had been Elizabeth’s loose tongue. “I believed the matter would remain private.”
“Private?” Lady Catherine shrieked. “You wrote to a known gossip about a supposed romantic entanglement and expected privacy? Have you taken leave of your senses entirely?”
The accusation stung because it carried an uncomfortable grain of truth. Darcy had been so focused on his wounded pride, so determined to punish Elizabeth for her betrayal, that he had played directly into Wickham’s hands.
“The situation can still be managed,” he said, though his confidence was shaken.
“Managed?” Lady Catherine’s voice dripped with scorn. “Collins reports that the girl’s mother is already speaking of compromise and honor. Charlotte Collins’ younger sister, Maria Lucas, is corroborating parts of her story. She claims to have observed you calling at the parsonage when Mr. Collins was absent, specifically seeking out Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
Darcy turned away, walking to the window. Outside, a fine drizzle had begun to fall, blurring the outlines of the London street. He had not anticipated Maria Lucas’s involvement. The awkward, plain-spoken younger sister of Charlotte Collins had indeed been present during his visits to the parsonage. She couldtruthfully testify that he had called when only the ladies were at home, that he had inquired specifically after Elizabeth.
But she had not been present during the proposal itself. No one had.
“Mr. Collins is in quite a state,” Lady Catherine continued. “He fears his reputation may be damaged by association with this scandal. After all, these alleged improprieties occurred under his roof.”
“There were no improprieties,” Darcy said sharply.
“Then what were you doing alone with her repeatedly?” Lady Catherine demanded. “Collins may be a fool, but even he would not fabricate such specific details. You called at the parsonage multiple times when she was unaccompanied—do not attempt to deny it.”
Darcy’s silence was answer enough.
“I thought as much.” Lady Catherine’s voice rang with triumph and disgust. “You compromised yourself and her through your careless behavior, and now you expect to escape the consequences by simply denying everything.”
“Is that all, dear aunt?” Darcy had had enough of her tongue-lashing. “Do you not see that I, too, am concerned about these consequences? The interference by Wickham is regrettable, but not something I could have foreseen.”
Aunt Catherine brushed her sleeve as if flicking off a disgusting spider. “We must act decisively to quash this impertinent falsehood before it spreads further. Mr. Collins shall be our emissary,” she declared, walking to the doorway. “Valet, you may allow Mr. Collins to proceed.”
The library door opened sharply, and Mr. Collins burst into the room. His clerical coat was disheveled, his receding hair wild, and his round face shone with perspiration despite the cool spring weather.
“Your Ladyship! Mr. Darcy! Oh, the calamity that has befallen us all!” Collins wrung his hands dramatically. “I am quite beside myself with distress.”
“Compose yourself, Collins,” Lady Catherine said sharply. “Report exactly what has transpired in Hertfordshire.”
“Such accusations, Your Ladyship. Such scandal! The entire neighborhood speaks of nothing else.” Collins dabbed at his forehead with a wrinkled handkerchief. “They claim—oh, I can barely speak the words—they claim that Mr. Darcy compromised Miss Bennet during her visit to my humble parsonage.”
“We know what they claim,” Darcy said impatiently. “What do they intend to do about it?”
“Oh, my poor Charlotte.” Collins’s voice cracked. “Mrs. Bennet demands that Charlotte provide testimony about the circumstances. The militia officers speak of defending Miss Bennet’s honor. Sir William Lucas threatens to write to the magistrates. Why, there are those who report that Mr. Bennet is contemplating challenging you to a duel.”
Of the list of threats, Darcy doubted the indolent Mr. Bennet would put down his morning paper in preference of a pistol, but…
“And what does Charlotte say?” Lady Catherine asked with dangerous calm.
“She… she is most reluctant to discuss the matter,” Collins admitted. “She claims she was often absent from the parsonage on household duties and cannot provide specific details about the timing or nature of any visits.”
“Good,” Lady Catherine said approvingly. “Charlotte shows proper discretion.”
“But Your Ladyship, the pressure upon her is immense. She recoils from such obvious sin, and her mother requests her testimony.” Collins’s voice rose to a wail. “What am I to do? Howcan I protect the reputation of my patroness while serving truth and justice?”
“By serving truth,” Lady Catherine said coldly. “The truth being that no improper conduct occurred at your parsonage. Any suggestions to the contrary are malicious fabrications designed to entrap Mr. Darcy into an advantageous marriage.”
