In accordance with Elizabeth’s expectations, Lady Catherine’s word was the last. She walked away into the house.
“Elizabeth, are you well?”
She span around at Darcy’s anxious voice in time to see him march onto the drive from the lane. “My word! Did you run the entire way?”
“It felt like it!” said Colonel Fitzwilliam, emerging from the same point a moment later.
“Are you well?” Darcy repeated. “She has not distressed you?”
“I am well. Somewhat surprised but perfectly well, I thank you.”
This appeased him but little, and he continued to scrutinise her countenance with the utmost concern. “What was said?”
“Let us go inside, and I shall relay it all.”
“That will not do,” Fitzwilliam said, laughing. “He passed the walk dreaming up every rum motive conceivable for my aunt to wish to talk to you alone. You must put him out of his misery and assure him nothing dreadful occurred.”
Elizabeth grimaced. “That is debatable.”
“Why?” Darcy demanded. “What has occurred?”
She looked up at him with playful contrition. “I seem to have invited her to Pemberley for Christmas.”
Rosings Park
12thOctober
To Lady Ashby,
You have been industrious in your endeavours to unearth and report Mrs Darcy’s failings to me. A week in her company has disproved the majority of your information, calling into question your purpose, which, it can only be presumed, was to recommend yourself to me by undervaluing her. You are sorely mistaken if you believe such despicable schemes could ever win you my good opinion.
Your information, in substantiating my greatest fears, has afforded me three months of the most painful and, I now discover, wholly unwarranted anguish, which has unquestionably contributed to my decline in health. You have shown yourself to be petty and vindictive without any of the probity exhibited by she whom you have so assiduously maligned.
You have sunk beyond redemption in my estimation. Do not presume to write to me again. If I discover you have dared to engage in any further idle talk pertaining to any member of this family, I shall beextremelyangry and shall act accordingly. When next our paths cross, I expect to discover your loyalty and discretion vastly improved.Should you require guidance in the endeavour, you may look to Mrs Darcy for illustration.
Tell my nephew I am seriously displeased.
Lady C. de Bourgh
Tuesday 13th October 1812, London
“There you are!” Elizabeth said when Darcy entered the parlour. She set her book aside and reached a hand towards him. “Where have you been?”
He bent to kiss her hand. She was curled up on the sofa, and he sat down next to her feet, placing his hand on her stockinged ankle. “I called on Bingley.”
“He is in Town?”
He nodded, caressing her calf. Bingley’s calling card had been awaiting him when they returned the previous day, but he had wished to discover the purpose of his friend’s visit before troubling Elizabeth with it, lest it signified further antagonism from her sister. “He accompanied Miss Bingley to Farley House to attend her sister as she nears her confinement, though I suspect he simply does not wish to be at Netherfield. Relations are strained, I understand.”
Elizabeth’s brow contracted. “Because of my quarrel with Jane?”
He nodded again.
“I am sorry to hear that. Unpleasant though it was, it ought not to come betweenthem.”
“How could it not? Any man’s esteem would be damaged by such a display of meanness.”
“He will have to forgive her eventually. They cannot become estranged over an argument that is not even their own.”
