Lady Catherine scoffed disdainfully. “I am more concerned with her security. My daughter requires a husband who will be considerate of her delicate constitution, who has consequence enough to elevate her reputation despite her absence from Town, who will manage her estate properly in the interests of her heirs. Do you suppose the world brims over with such men? Good, conscientious, distinguished men?It doesnot!”
Her ladyship’s voice became more hoarse the louder it grew. “Equally, my nephew requires a wife who will bring credit to his name, not ostracise him from the sphere in which he was brought up. A connection with you must discredit him in the eyes of everybody. The alliance would be a disgrace, and you must be the one to prevent it, since he is so bewitched by you, he will hear no reason on the subject.”
Elizabeth’s heart pounded in consonance with her head. “I do not see that you have given me good reason to do so. So far, you have catalogued Mr Darcy’s virtues, informed me that he has denounced allother engagements and impressed upon me the depth of his regard. It seems to me your ladyship has rather come to commend the union.”
“This is not to be borne!” Lady Catherine struggled out of her chair, sucking in great wheezy breaths of outrage as she stalked to stand before her. “Do not deceive yourself into a belief that I will ever recede. I shall not…” Her tirade faltered. She frowned and peered more closely at Elizabeth’s countenance. “Heaven and earth, what is that?”
Elizabeth sighed quietly, surprised it had gone unnoticed this long, notwithstanding her artfully arranged hair. “A bruise, ma’am.”
Lady Catherine recoiled. “On yourface? How does one come by such a thing?”
“I acquired this one in Meryton.”
“And you claim to be a gentlewoman? Never in all my days have I seen the like!”
“I believe it is yet to gain favour in London. Perhaps next Season?”
Lady Catherine’s eyes grew flinty. “Your impudence has lostallits charm, Miss Bennet. I insist you tell me how you came to be injured thus.”
“I was struck.”
“You have beenbrawling?”
“I hardly think brawling is?—”
“Andthisis what my nephew plans to inflict upon us! Are the shades of Pemberley to be thus polluted?”
Elizabeth stood up. “Lady Catherine, I have nothing more to say, and my head pains me. I beg to be importuned no further.”
“You have yet to give me your word.”
“True, and behaviour such as this will never induce me to give it. You had much better go, for you are wasting your time with me.” She strode to the door, leant upon it for a moment while a wave of dizziness passed, then continued to the front of the house.
Lady Catherine followed, barking demands and invective all the way to the front door. “I take no leave of you, Miss Bennet,” she concluded as she swept past and climbed into her awaiting carriage. “I send no compliments to your family, you deserve no such attention.”
Elizabeth returned to the house without troubling herself to reply. The walls swam about her, and she clutched the back of a chair with one hand and her head with the other. She was inordinately grateful when Hill came to her aid, helping her to bed, giving her ameasure of the tincture prescribed by Mr Oates and mercifully agreeing to conceal the extraordinary visit from the rest of the family.
Left alone, Elizabeth almost immediately succumbed to sleep, unable to reflect clearly on any of what had been said whilst her head throbbed thus. Lucid or not, however, thoughts of Mr Darcy were still foremost in her mind as she drifted off, and though that was not an unusual occurrence, this was the first occasion such thoughts had ever been accompanied by hope.
Monday 1 June 1812, Hertfordshire
Mr Bennet had been uncommonly concerned at the prospect of Elizabeth walking to Meryton this day. Her rapid recovery notwithstanding, he did not think it wise for her to be venturing so far so soon. Nevertheless, she would not be deterred, and when his offer of the carriage had also fallen on deaf ears, he had taken the unprecedented decision to accompany her and her sisters on their walk. Thus, they had all—excepting Lydia and Mrs Bennet, who tarried abed—enjoyed an agreeable morning in town.
Now almost home, he regarded Elizabeth with pride. The majority of their sojourn had been passed accepting well wishes from the good folk of Meryton, which spoke volumes as to the esteem she evidently commanded. As they approached the house, he patted her hand where it rested upon his arm. “You are a good girl, Lizzy. I am heartily pleased you are recovered.”
Elizabeth smiled at him but had not the time to respond before the door was swept open and Hill appeared with the news that Mr Bingley waited upon them in the parlour.
“I should feel neglected were he not!” Mr Bingley left the girls to change their shoes and went to greet his guest—and knew not whether to be diverted or incredulous upon finding him this time in private conference with his fifth daughter.He allowed himself a modest smile and cleared his throat. “I commend your zeal for my progeny, Mr Bingley, but even you cannot believe there is potential here.”
His delight in the man’s bewilderment was overshadowed by the noise of all five daughters and his wife converging on the place, and he hastily left in search of solitude.
Tuesday 2 June 1812, Hertfordshire
Peabody lit one of Mr Bingley’s finest cigars and leant back in his chair. “She’ll be one of old man Bennet’s.”
“Hush your tongue before the walls hear you!” Mrs Arbuthnot said sharply.
Peabody shrugged and blew out a smoke ring. “What say you, Mr Banbury?”
