“You shall not be the judge of who deserves my name, madam.”
“I ought to have been, given how ill you have chosen!”
In a move that clearly demonstrated she was not afraid to defend herself, her husband or their marriage, Elizabeth raised a hand to cover Darcy’s where it gripped her shoulder and interrupted them both. “Lady Catherine, whether you like it or not, I am now your niece. I should be very happy if you were to call me Lizzy as Mrs Sinclair does and pray we might waste no more time discussing it.”
Her ladyship looked as though she had been asked to dance the waltz—with Lord Byron, in a whorehouse, naked. She turned to regard Mrs Sinclair with disgust. “You call herLizzy?”
“Do not be jealous, your ladyship. I have several nicknames for you also,” the older lady replied.
“To shorten one’s Christian name shows avulgarcoarseness of manners.” Lady Catherine narrowed her eyes at Elizabeth. “It is precisely this sort of disdain for decorum with which you disgrace my nephew.”
Privately, Fitzwilliam laughed at how well Elizabeth knew her husband, for she observably tightened her grip on his hand, tethering him in place. “Come now, Aunt,” he said. “What is to be gained by continuing to make such charges? There is no foundation for them.”
“No foundation?” she cried with a scornful laugh that devolved into a noisy and unpleasant clearing of her throat. “How is it, then, that I hear naught but tales of her shameful disregard for propriety, her constant arguing with Darcy, her struggles to perform the simplest of duties as mistress?”
“That is absurd,” Fitzwilliam said, as a brief glance at Darcy prompted him to hastily inspect the wider vicinity to ensure no firearms lay within his reach. “Where have you heard such nonsense?”
“All of London has heard it!”
“Your ladyship,” Mrs Sinclair interjected, “I really must disabuse you of the notion that your circle of three acquaintances constitutes the whole of London.”
Montgomery, also glancing anxiously at Darcy, added his quiet yet stern voice to proceedings. “And may I remind you of my hopes for reconciliation, madam? I beg you would accept Darcy’s consent tomake peace before he rescinds it, and for all our sakes allow these vile rumours to be forgotten.”
“Would that these were rumours,” Lady Catherine croaked, pulling a handkerchief from her sleeve and holding it near her mouth. “But I saw for myself evidence of one of her violent altercations, the tale of which I have since heard repeated abroad. And let Darcy deny it was necessary for him to drag her from the arms of another man mere days before his wedding.”
Elizabeth’s eyes opened wide, and Darcy’s fury took on a wild edge of incredulity.
Lady Catherine turned to Elizabeth. “I am no stranger to the particulars of that infamous affair, young lady. I know it all. How you willingly received that man’s addresses, the patched-up arrangements made to keep you away from each other afterwards?—”
“That is enough!” This Darcy actually shouted. He broke free of Elizabeth’s hold—or she released him, Fitzwilliam was not sure which—and stepped towards Lady Catherine. On either side of him, all other occupants of the room sank away from him into their chairs like the Red Sea parting. “Unless you wish me to leave this place forever, to refuse Montgomery and Anne the assistance they desire, for our families to be publicly and permanently divided, you will apologise to Elizabeth. You will welcome her with all due respect as my wife, and you will desist your reprehensible incivility this instant!”
But for Lady Catherine’s rasping breath, there was silence as she and Darcy glared at each other in a monumental test of wills. It was Anne who broke the stalemate. “Please, Mother. I am grieved enough at the prospect of losing you. I would not wish to lose my cousin also.”
It was a painful and courageously honest observation—and most effective. Lady Catherine sagged in her seat, and though her expression was cold and her words clipped, she nonetheless ceded her enmity.
“I apologise, Mrs Darcy.” She moved her eyes to her nephew before adding, “I am glad you are come,” whereupon she fell victim to a virulent spell of coughing, which Fitzwilliam would have attributed to the avoidance of further capitulation had he not espied the spots of red on her handkerchief. “I have exceeded myself,” she sputtered. “Excuse me.”
Anne and Montgomery led her from the room with the promise of re-joining everybody for dinner once they had her settled. The doorclosed. Fitzwilliam let out a slow breath. Lady Catherine had apologised. Darcy had not renounced the de Bourghs for all eternity. The only bloodshed had been on Lady Catherine’s handkerchief. All in all, the encounter could have gone significantly worse. With a relieved shrug, he moved to join Darcy and Elizabeth.
“I am well, truly,” she was saying. “Only a little tired.”
“Then you must rest,” Darcy asserted, looking far more concerned than a simple claim to fatigue justified.
“You cannot think I mean to desert you after that?” she objected.
“You must rest,” Darcy repeated, rather severely. “I shall have a tray sent up for you.”
“Fear not,” Fitzwilliam assured her. “I believe between me, the dinner table and Lady Catherine’s cognac, he will be adequately consoled.”
Elizabeth smiled gratefully but did not seem ready to acquiesce.
“I should leave them to it, my dear,” advised Mrs Sinclair, pushing herself to her feet with her cane. “Men are never satisfied with things until they have ranted about them in their cups. I shall dine with you upstairs if you have no objection to it. All the promise has gone out of the evening anyway now that her ladyship has shuffled off to bed. With any luck, she might shuffle a bit too far and topple right off the end of her mortal coil.”
“I ought never to have brought her here!” Darcy exclaimed as soon as the door shut behind the two ladies.
Fitzwilliam went directly to the sideboard, of the opinion that getting foxed and grumbling about the whole sorry mess was a fine idea. “She seemed to hold her own.”
“It should not be necessary for her to hold her own,” Darcy shot back, accepting the drink Fitzwilliam handed him and taking a substantial swig. “This hostility is not good for the…it is not good for her health.”
