Now to business. I received two letters from my father this morning. One contained news of your injury; the other was posted last week and made mention of a recent conversation with Mr Bingley. That gentleman apparently claims his friend from Derbyshire has come tohold you in very high regard. This, of course, is proof enough for my father that your engagement must be imminent. Perceiving my amusement as I read this, Mr Collins insisted I tell him what diverted me. Regrettably, he took the report rather more seriously and, before I could prevent him, left to relate the whole of it to Lady Catherine.
By his account, she was furious with the news and declared it would not be borne, though until now I thought that little more than bluster. But Lizzy, I have just heard from Mrs Jenkinson that her ladyship left Rosings this morning in a frightful temper. I know not where she travels, but I know it cannot bode well that she has gone at all. I fear you must prepare yourself for a visit. If that is the case, I pray this letter reaches you first, that you may at least be prepared. I hope, however, that my worry is without cause and you are left in peace. Pray, write in either case and assure me you are well.
With the greatest affection,
Charlotte Collins
Saturday 30 May 1812, Hertfordshire
Mr Bennet went to Sawbridgeworth on Saturday and Mrs Bennet to Netherfield with all but one of her daughters. Still too unwell to tolerate a jolting carriage ride, Elizabeth remained at home, taking advantage of the empty house to play the pianoforte in her preferred style—with all the passion (and mistakes) an audience would bid her restrain. Her fingers swept over the keys, chasing away some of her more unpleasant reflections, tripping over others.
Jane’s exasperating diffidence added considerable fervour to her playing. Though she had been constrained to an armchair with a pounding head all week, her sister had still thought it necessary to remind her of her pledge to be unobtrusive in Mr Bingley’s presence. She had made the promise to do so in earnest but hardly thought she could be accused of coquetry at such a time asthis. She banged out the next few arpeggios excessively loudly in protest then winced as pain lanced through the bruise on her temple.
She sighed, displeased to have been reminded of the injury, for shedid not like to dwell upon Mr Wickham’s attack. She recalled very little of it, though her sisters had told her enough to make her glad of that. It was not Mr Wickham’s brutality that distressed her most, however. She was more concerned with how profoundly she had misunderstood his character, for only now that she knew him capable of thisdid she comprehend how prodigiously foolish Mr Darcy must have thought her when she stood before him, defending the blackguard’s character. She vented her consternation on the keys, missing most of the notes in the next phrase.
It pained her to consider how ill Mr Darcy must think of her. Before yesterday and despite Mr Bingley’s various mistaken claims, she had not thought his opinion could diminish any further. Yet, if Charlotte was correct, Lady Catherine might be about to change that. Elizabeth did not believe her ladyship would condescend to come to Longbourn, but she did fear she might visit her nephew, for Mr Darcy would then learn of the spurious rumours her friends and family had been circulating, vindicating all his accusations of the impropriety of her sphere. A series of discordant notes followed as she lost and retraced her place in the score.
Her greatest vexation was that, in contrast to how much Mr Darcy must now hate her, she had begun to miss him. She was weary of her family’s immodesty, wary of the militia, forbidden from engaging with Mr Bingley lest Jane call it flirtation and afraid to sigh within one hundred yards of Mr Greyson lest her mother call it love. She felt desperately alone and fancied that some time spent with the astute, worldly,gentlemanlyMr Darcy would suit her very well indeed. She began to comprehend that he was exactly the man who, in disposition and talents, would most suit her. His understanding and temper, though unlike her own, would have answered all her wishes. His arms wrapped around her would have soothed away all her ills. Her fingers played an entirely erroneous chord, dissonant and grating.
“Your playing has not improved at all I see, Miss Bennet.”
Elizabeth gave a squeak of surprise and jumped an inch off her seat. How long Lady Catherine de Bourgh had stood in the doorway, regarding her with a disapproving sneer, she dared not suppose.
“Forgive me, Miss Elizabeth!” Hill called from the passageway beyond. “I could not persuade her ladyship to wait in the parlour.”
“I quite understand,” Elizabeth assured her, coming to her feet. “Be so good as to bring us some refreshments in there now, would you?”
“I do not care for refreshments,” Lady Catherine stated imperiously.
“Very well. I hope you will not begrudge me some. I have been practising very diligently.” Indicating that her visitor should follow, Elizabeth walked the short distance between the rooms and chose the seat farthest from any other in the room.
Lady Catherine’s lips thinned almost to the point of disappearing, but she nonetheless chose a seat and sat in it. “You can be at no loss, Miss Bennet, to understand the reason for my journey hither. Your own heart, your own conscience, must tell you why I come.”
“Indeed, you are mistaken, madam. I am quite unable to account for the honour of seeing you here,” Elizabeth lied.
“Miss Bennet,” replied her ladyship in an angry tone. “You ought to know that I am not to be trifled with. A report of a most alarming nature reached me yesterday morning. I was told thatyou, that Miss Elizabeth Bennet, would, in all likelihood, be soon united to my nephew, Mr Darcy. I went immediately to London to have it confirmed as a scandalous falsehood. He was adamant there must have been some mistake, that no such rumour could possibly exist, but I instantly resolved on setting off for this place to haveyourword that you would never accept an offer of marriage from him.”
Elizabeth’s heart sank. She had visited him already! “If Mr Darcy has said no such rumour could exist, I wonder you took the trouble of coming so far.”
“He may have denied the existence of the rumour,” she replied with narrowed eyes, “but he would not—nay, hecouldnot deny the foundation for it. I perfectly comprehended his feelings. He is infatuated.Yourarts and allurements have drawn him in.”
“If that were the case, you could hardly expect me to refuse an offer, having gone to so much trouble to extort it from him.”
Lady Catherine sucked in a breath, coughed sharply and grew even more vexed. “Miss Bennet, do you know who I am? I have not been accustomed to such impertinence as this. I am almost the nearest relation Mr Darcy has in the world and am entitled to know all his dearest concerns.”
“But you are not entitled to know mine.”
“When your concerns begin to obtrude upon mine, then I most certainlyamentitled to know them!” She leant forwards in her chair, piercing Elizabeth with an icy glare. “Because of his fascination foryou, Mr Darcy has reneged on his engagement tomydaughter. Now what have you to say?”
Elizabeth scarcely knew what to think but schooled herself to composure, for she would not satisfy Lady Catherine’s hope of intimidating her. “A decision not to marry Miss de Bourgh, if indeed such a decision has been made, is by no means proof that he will offer for me.”
“Do not be deliberately obtuse. Of course it is! Do you imagine me ignorant of the attention he showed you in Kent? He and his cousin have been intended for each other from their infancy, yet you, a woman of inferior birth and wholly unallied to the family, have caught his fancy, and my daughter has been forsaken!”
“That cannot be blamed on me! I have no control over Mr Darcy’s whims!”
“Regrettably, that is precisely what you do have, and I mean to see that you use it as duty and honour prescribe. Will you promise meneverto enter into an engagement with him or act in any way that will prevent his marrying my daughter?”
Elizabeth’s head throbbed. “I am neither honour nor duty bound to do your bidding and can only pity Miss de Bourgh for being so. I shudder at what mortification will be hers when she is forced upon a man disinclined to the union. Have you no regard for sensibility?”
