“That will not do at all. Can your friend be worked upon?” Lady de Bourgh’s displeasure showed on her face.
Charlotte almost shook her head, but a memory surfaced, and she paused. What had Jane said weeks ago when she confronted Charlotte about Mr. Collins?
“Elizabeth believes I have betrayed my dreams,”Jane had murmured.“Mayhap I have. But it was necessary, and I cannot regret my decision.”
When Charlotte had pressed for an explanation, Jane had turned away, unwilling to answer.“It is nothing,”she had said.“Nothing at all.”
She had not understood then, but now she wondered. During his visit to Hunsford, Mr. Bennet had spent many hours in his room. Charlotte had believed him to be avoiding his cousin, but now she thought there may be another explanation.
Mr. Bennet had dismissed his coughing on their journey hither, attributing it to the coming spring. Since Charlotte’s sister Maria often suffered a cough during the spring and autumn, she had accepted his word as truth. But could there be another cause?
“Elizabeth is… stubborn. I cannot guarantee how she will react if Mr. Darcy offers his hand. She may turn him away with a flea in his ear.” She sighed. “My friend’s memory is long. It will beyears before she lets go of her resentment, unless she is given ample evidence that it is misplaced.”
“Then we must see to it that she has every reason to think well of Mr. Darcy. The match will benefit multiple parties. From what I have learned of her situation, she would be a fool to refuse a proposal from such a prominent man.” Lady de Bourgh nodded as if agreeing with herself.
“I believe Miss Bennet’s singularity is what sets her apart from other ladies. It is what draws Darcy’s admiration.”
Sir Andrew’s words rang true. Charlotte looked at her friend and silently prayed that she would not need to force Elizabeth’s hand.
Chapter Seventeen
March 30, 1812
Hunsford, Kent
Elizabeth
Dear Miss Bennet,
How do you fair in Kent? I do apologize for my tardy correspondence. My studies have kept me occupied in a serious manner for far longer than I prefer. As the season progresses, my uncle is more and more occupied with Parliament, and so I am more and more at my leisure. My uncle is very attentive to my studies, as is my brother. They both toil endlessly with my companion’s assistance to see that I am ‘finished’ when I come out. I confess, I do not see the need for so many accomplishments. Most ladies barely use them once they marry. But my relations insist that such knowledge will aid meas I enter the marriage mart and I must bow to their superior understanding.
How have you fared when faced with Lady Catherine? She is a gorgon, but do not tell my brother I said so. I am terrified to be in her presence; she constantly berates me to practice my instrument more and interrogates me about history and French. I think she does so because she never took the opportunity to demand such things of her daughter. Anne is not illiterate, but she lacks the accomplishments my aunt thinks a lady of breeding needs.
My brother is at Rosings Park now, along with my other guardian, Colonel Fitzwilliam. Have you happened to meet them yet? My brother’s yearly pilgrimage to Rosings Park is another reason why I went to Matlock House. He will return soon, I hope, and then I can return to my own home and chambers.
I hope my brother will take me to the theater when he returns. Twelfth Night, my favorite Shakespeare play, is to be performed. Have you ever seen it? Perhaps we might persuade Fitzwilliam to allow us to attend in the Darcy box. It has a marvelous view of the stage, and it is very comfortable.
Please write to me soon with all your adventures in Kent.
Sincerely,
G. Darcy
Elizabeth smiled as she read Miss Darcy’s letter. Most would find it odd that the two ladies began their correspondence so soon after making each other’s acquaintance. Indeed, most discouraged such familiarity before coming to a better understanding of another, but her friendship with Georgiana had been as easy as anything. The young lady’s sweet temperament engendered affection and caring.Mr. Wickham must have misunderstood Georgiana’s shy nature and labeled it proud.There could not be any other explanation. Sheunderstood his confusion. Had she not thought Georgiana’s reserved manner to be proud upon their immediate introduction?
“Miss Bennet.”
She turned and noted Mr. Darcy’s approach. His horse did not make an appearance and she wondered if he had left it at Rosings Park or had tied the beast to a tree somewhere.
“How do you do this morning?” He came to her side and bowed.
“I am well, sir, and you?” She tapped Georgiana’s letter in her palm, hoping to tamp down her irritation at being interrupted. Had she not told him this was her favorite walk in an effort to deter his presence?
“I, too, am well. I have nearly finished Rosings’s books. They are a mess as they usually are, and I am always eager to put the task behind me.” He sighed and held out his arm. She took it out of politeness, but rested her arm lightly as she could manage. Her letter she carried in her other hand.
“Does Lady Catherine not employ a steward?” she asked curiously. Her father had not done so until recently, but Mr. Bennet’s books were never in a state of disarray as Lady Catherine’s apparently were.
“She does, but she does not trust the man to do his job.” He shook his head. “He keeps accurate records of everything by month, knowing that I shall come and repair the damage Lady Catherine inflicts. It would be far easier if my aunt would allow Mr. Timms to record everything as it occurs, but we have yet to convince her of that.”
