He ignored her greeting. “I am in no way bound to Anne, by either inclination or honour. If she is under the impression that I mean to marry her then it is a misapprehension entirely of your own making. Now pray tell me under what pretext you think it is acceptable that you should be here, excoriating my future wife in her own home?”
His aunt gaped at him with an expression of horror. “Future wife? You mean to say that youareengaged to her?”
He refused to dignify her contempt with an answer and simply glared at her with disgust.
She tottered towards him, one hand outstretched as though to touch his face like some doting nursemaid. “Darcy, I do not know what has happened, whether you are ill, or have been tricked, but you do not need to do this. Come with me, and we shall find a way to—”
Darcy stepped around her and walked to stand next to Elizabeth. “What hashappenedis that I have been fortunate enough to win the affections of the finest woman of my acquaintance, and she has done me the honour of agreeing to marry me. There has been no trickery. I am not unwell. But I aminexpressiblytired of other people thinking they are entitled to determine whom I may and may not marry.”
Lady Catherine drew herself up tall and sneered. “The finest woman of your acquaintance? Look around you. This is the sphere in which Miss Bennet grew up—this muddy little scratch of ground her father calls his. She is of no importance in the world, Darcy. Of inferior birth and wholly unallied to our family. And who is her mother? Who are her uncles and aunts? You cannot be ignorant of their condition.”
“It is not Miss Bennet’s aunt who is presently standing in that mud, shouting insults like a common street hawker. Are you lost to every feeling of propriety and delicacy, madam?”
“Have you forgotten what you owe to yourself and to all your family?” Lady Catherine retorted. “You cannot possibly expect me to believe that you would allow the upstart pretensions of a young woman without family, connexions, or fortune to prevent you from doing your duty to us all.”
“Your nephew has devoted his entire life to Pemberley,” Elizabeth said angrily. “And you would struggle to find a man more concerned for the well-being of his friends and family. Of all the things you would accuse him, let it not be a dereliction of duty.”
Darcy glanced at her, powerful feelings of gratitude and affection momentarily distracting from the effrontery of his aunt’s attack. Oh, to be on the receiving end of Elizabeth’s fierce loyalty at last!
“You are determined to ruin him in the opinion of all his friends and make him the contempt of the world?” Lady Catherine demanded, turning her ire on Elizabeth. “You will be censured, slighted, and despised by everyone connected with him.”
Darcy clenched his teeth, appalled by his aunt’s insolence—shame deepened by the knowledge that, though she spoke with a malice he had never felt, her objections differed very little from those he had voiced the first time he proposed to Elizabeth.
“On the contrary,” Elizabeth responded. “I have met a number of Mr Darcy’s friends, and I am delighted to report that they had far too much sense to join your scorn.”
“They cannot know of your youngest sister’s infamous elopement, then!” her ladyship replied viciously. “Is such a girl to be my nephew’s sister? Is the son of his late father’s steward to be his brother? Are the shades of Pemberley to be thus polluted?”
“Devil take your conceit!” Darcy shouted. “The way things are going, Pemberley’s woods will be the only thing left standing tocastany shade. You will not prevent me from marrying the one woman I trust to remain loyal to me whether I can put a roof over her head or not.”
He felt Elizabeth touch his arm and knew not whether she meant to placate him or embolden him, but he was too incensed to let it impede his tirade. “How dare you come here, attempting to interfere in my business, to frustrate my plans, tobreak my engagement! You have overreached, Lady Catherine, and it will not be forgot. I suggest you return to your carriage.”
Doubt at last flickered over his aunt’s countenance. She reddened darkly and heaved a few heavy breaths. Then she abruptly turned again to Elizabeth. “Your alliance will be a disgrace. Your name will never be mentioned by any of us.” With a vitriolic sneer, she turned and walked away.
Darcy watched her go until she had exited the copse then exhaled forcefully. “Elizabeth, please accept my apologies, that was inexcusable. I had no idea she was coming.”
“No, of course not. I never thought you did.” Her voice was distant, and she seemed stunned.
Darcy knew not what else to say. Lady Catherine had insulted Elizabeth in every possible method, but he could not tell from her expression what she thought of it. He hoped to God she was not forming a resolution to break with him.
“Well!” she declared abruptly. “I feel better about my aunt Wallis disliking you now.” Then she laughed—only a soft, slightly bemused laugh, but still a pure, unaffected sound that released the iron band of dread around Darcy’s chest.
With a vast sigh of relief, he pulled her into a fierce embrace. “My God, you have no idea how much I love you.” She returned his embrace equally tightly but said nothing more.
He leant back slightly so he could see her face. “You are very quiet.”
“I am a bit taken aback, I do not mind admitting, but you need not concern yourself. It will pass.”
It was not a convincing answer and made Darcy want to get on his knees and beg her not to change her mind.
“What are you doing here, anyway?” she asked softly. “I thought you meant to leave this morning.”
“One of my horses needed to be reshod, and I could not resist seeing you again while it was done.” He checked his watch and cursed silently at the time. “I must go soon, though. We shall be lucky to make it as far as Baldock before dark as it is.”
She nodded. “Yes, of course.”
Blast it, she was so subdued! “I do not want to leave you now. Not like this, not after—”
“It is well, Fitzwilliam, I promise.”
