“My dear,whatdelightful tea this is,” my husband offered. “It is from Lady Catherine de Bourgh, you see,” he said, turning to Lizzy and Darcy. “She takes such good care of us. Such a gracious woman.”
Lizzy and Darcy nodded politely and agreed that the tea was excellent, but I knew they thought Mr. Collins’ praise of Lady Catherine tiresome.
I felt my throat constrict and I forced myself to ask after Pemberley and how things were going there.
Lizzy did not know, and I did not know if she would understand if I did tell her.
William’s mother had died in childbirth and his father had been practically illiterate, a man of little or no interest in learning. His father was a miser who had only cared about penny pinching, making William go to school in clothes that were toosmall and tight for the frame that had always been bigger than other boys his age. He had grown up in this seclusion, never knowing his genteel relatives like the Bennets because his father was a sour, quarrelsome man who had feuded with everyone and anyone. And thus my husband had never grown up knowing the ways of polite society. Because of his upbringing, he did not mingle well at university and did not make the sort of friends his own age that might have shown him how men his age generally behaved.
The fact that Lady Catherine had offered him a living at only 25 was such an unexpected and unbelievably gratifying act, after years of his miserly and tight father, that William did not know how to do anything other than be grateful.
And even his worst enemy couldn’t accuse him of being ungrateful.
But I wanted to tell him that, even though Lady Catherine had given him the living,hewas the one who preached the sermons, made the visits, listened to the parish concerns.
I passed around the small cakes as Mr. Collins moved on to Lizzy’s family, praising both Mr. and Mrs. Bennet. In this, he fondly believed he was pleasing his listeners, but Lizzy’s relationship with her mother had never been good, and I knew Mr. Darcy found her frankly a horror.
He took a breath to take a big bite of cake, and it was Mrs. Darcy’s turn to speak.
“How are things at Rosings?” Lizzy asked, and I felt a cold trickle of fear go down my spine as I saw my husband choke on his cake, coughing loudly, his gray eyes looking roundly horrified at the assembled company.
He was not a very good liar.
“Are you all right?” Mr. Darcy asked.
“All things considered,” William said, looking at me with a panicked expression on his face and running a hand underhis collar, “things are going very well there, very well indeed. The garden at Rosings has never looked more magnificent, for example.” I could see the beads of sweat begin to appear on his forehead.
This odd speech was of course entirely suspicious to Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth.
“Issomething the matter at Rosings?” Mr. Darcy asked sharply.
“Why no, why should there be?” my husband asked, turning anguished eyes to me.
I thawed a bit. This was Lizzy and Darcy’s first trip back to Rosings after their marriage. I knew everyone was anxious that it go well.
“I don’t think it’s anything serious,” I said. “Some of the pigs have been misplaced is all.”
Mr. Darcy and Lizzy laughed at that, and I think it would have been passed off well enough if my husband hadn’t brought out a large ornate handkerchief to wipe his forehead, with an audible sigh of relief.
Mr. Darcy narrowed his eyes and gave me a sharp and uncomfortably searching look, but said nothing.
We finished up our tea, and then all walked over to Rosings, the Darcys’ groom bringing their carriage into Lady Catherine’s stables.
Anne, Mr. Radcliffe, and Sir Francis were all waiting near the door to greet us.
I introduced Lizzy to the two gentlemen.
“How is a beautiful woman like you still unmarried?” Mr. Radcliffe asked, bending low over her slim hand. “You are the very picture of perfection.”
He held her hand tight, his mouth lingering over her fingers.
“Sheismarried,” I heard a deep voice behind me growl. “To me.”
Mr. Radcliffe looked up, a bit flustered despite himself, to see Mr. Darcy stalk into the room. Never far from his wife, he had heard what had just passed.
“You are a lucky man,” Mr. Radcliffe said, letting go of Lizzy’s hand and leaning back to take Mr. Darcy’s measure.
“I know I am,” returned Mr. Darcy, his dark eyes narrowing.
