“Yes, mine too, for I was certain she must be increasing. Sheshowed all the signs. She even asked me on Saturday evening, how long a woman must usually wait to feel the quickening.”
“I see why you were so convinced. She obviously believed it to be true.”
“And now all our hopes are dashed.”
“Only temporarily, Sister. With any luck, you will not have to wait long for better news—from Lizzy if not Jane.”
“What use is it to me if Lizzy has a child, for I shall scarcely ever see it. I am getting too old to be forever traipsing hither and thither about the country.”
“I am sure her husband will be vastly pleased to hear that,” said Mr Bennet, walking into the room and taking up a position before the fire. “Perhaps that is why Mr Bingley delays. He may wish to find a house farther away before he begets another excuse for you to visit him.”
Nothing Mrs Philips could do would settle Mrs Bennet’s nerves after that remark, and in the end, there was nothing for it but to help her sister to bed and request a tonic from Hill that would allow her to sleep off her disappointment.
Thursday 8 October 1812, Kent
Fitzwilliam stifled a yawn. He wished he had not fought so prodigiously hard to remain awake throughout the wedding ceremony, for a brief nap then might have afforded him the stamina required to endure this—the dullest celebration in the history of matrimony. He was vastly relieved when his grandmother successfully persuaded Elizabeth to play the pianoforte, and his aunt’s cronies dispersed to find seats from which to criticise her performance better. Lady Catherine spent the next several minutes unable to speak as she succumbed to a fit of coughing that he suspected she had been withholding for some time. He fetched her a drink and stayed with her until she recovered.
“Anne seems very content,” he said when she was composed.
“No thanks to the contemptible strumpet at my pianoforte.”
He breathed a silent sigh. “Content nonetheless.”
Lady Catherine sniffed disdainfully. “Would that Darcy could be.”
“He is, madam.”
“Do not attempt to mollify me, Fitzwilliam. It is my lungs that fail me, not my eyes. A fool could see he is not happy.”
“If you will pardon me for speaking frankly, your incivility towards his wife is hardly likely to cheer him. Nor your ill health.”
The latter seemed to surprise her though she quickly covered it with affected hauteur. “I am glad to discover he is not lost to all proper feeling. He ought to be distressed that I am ill.”
“We all are.”
“She is not,” she said, waving her hand towards the instrument.
Fitzwilliam was unsure whether she was referring to Elizabeth or Mrs Sinclair, and since at least one of them was not the slightest bit troubled, he opted not to answer at all.
He caught sight of Darcy watching his wife play. Contrary to Lady Catherine’s claim, he looked positively serene, which diverted him, for Darcy was not a man naturally given to serenity. To his mind, Elizabeth’s influence was there for all to see. Would that he could dispel some of his aunt’s prepossession that she might observe it herself.
“You know, I was there when Greyson importuned Elizabeth,” he said, surprising his aunt for a second time. “I rather think the incident has been elaborated by the fool who relayed it to you.”
Her ladyship made no response, but her expression invited him to explain.
“The man was in no way encouraged, and there was naught prurient about the incident on either side. He put too much sway in the mother’s opinion and attempted to offer for Elizabeth before he knew she was engaged to Darcy. She refused to hear him, Greyson took hold of her elbow to prevent her from leaving before he said his piece, and Darcy intervened to demand that he go. That is all there was to it.”
She received this information in silence, her lips pinched and her brow creased. Fitzwilliam thought he might as well take advantage of her rare quiescence. “As to her being struck, the officer in question was violently drunk and attacked her in the street. She can scarcely be blamed.”
“Of course she can! What was she doing anywhere near a drunkard in the first place?”
“Attempting to defend Darcy’s good name, I understand.” He rather liked being able to surprise his aunt this often. “She is not thecoquette you believe her to be. Indeed, you do Darcy a grave injustice in continuing to think ill of her.”
“Do I? Regardless of whetherthosereports are true, her descent, her connections, her vast unsuitability cannot be denied. It will not be long until it is widely known how poorly she has adapted to Pemberley. When he is ridiculed in every corner of the world by every person who knows him, Darcy will regret marrying her.”
Fitzwilliam shook his head. “I know not what nonsense has been passed your way, but I assure you, Darcy has nothing but praise for Elizabeth’s endeavours at Pemberley. Doubtless, she has lessons to learn, but she is a perfectly capable, clever woman. There is no reason to suspect she will not learn all she needs to with time. And you cannot but think Darcy will be a positive influence on her.”
“What of the visits of her uncle and aunt from the city?”
