Elizabeth watched him go, arms crossed, before turning and going into the parsonage.
He loves her.Charlotte knew it in her bones. But what could be done? Elizabeth did not like him at all.
Then let us force her!Sir Andrew’s passionate exclamation came to mind. Elizabeth did not know what was best for her. The doubts remained, though. Could Charlotte ensure her friend did not make a foolish and hasty decision if Mr. Darcy proposed? Would it be the correct thing to do? And would Elizabeth ever forgive her if she interfered?
Chapter Nineteen
April 2, 1812
Rosings Park, Kent
Jane
Jane smoothed her hands over her gown. The current styles still concealed her growing stomach, and she felt grateful for it. She had not yet felt the quickening and she did not wish to tell her husband of their coming happiness until she knew for certain she carried his child. But now Lady Catherine had ferreted out the information and she needed to placate the lady before she chastised Jane before everyone.
They had been invited to dine that night, but she did not wish to delay. She left the parsonage after having made calls on the parishioners with her husband and Charlotte. Their tasks had been uneventful, and now she had time to see to Lady Catherine’s bruised feelings.
She rang the bell and waited for Brisby. Rosings’s butler answered quickly, his stoic and serious demeanor intimidating Jane just a mite. “Mrs. Collins to see Lady Catherine,” she said calmly. Her insides roiled with nerves, but she shoved the feeling away. She had no time for misgivings.
Brisby showed her to the sitting room. Lady Catherine’s favorite chamber to receive visitors was also Jane’s least favorite public room at Rosings Park. Lady Catherine had granted her a tour when she first arrived in Kent. The sitting room’s gilt and gaudy décor spoke of wealth with little regard to taste, and Jane despised the dark wood and heavy brocade fabric that covered everything.
“Mrs. Collins to see you.” Brisby announced her, and she entered the room. Lady Catherine had no company, thankfully, and so Jane would not need to request to speak with her privately. Brisby closed the door, and she stepped forward.
“Well, come closer.” Lady Catherine’s evident pique caused Jane to obey immediately. “You were to attend me tonight. What have you to say that cannot wait?” She did not offer Jane a seat.
Jane hated the way she demanded information. Her delicate condition did not concern her ladyship in the slightest. But Lady Catherine de Bourgh declared nothing was beneath her notice, and so to prevent further embarrassment when her husband’s patroness inevitably confronted her this evening, she moved forward.
“I came on a matter of some delicacy, your ladyship,” Jane said. She knew she needed to speak carefully. Flattery and condescension were what Lady Catherine needed to feel superior and be placated. “You are the nearest lady of my acquaintance who possesses the knowledge I seek.”
“Can you not write to your mother? Or what of your aunt in London? What advice canIgive that they cannot?” The obviouschallenge in her words made Jane pause again. Was Charlotte’s report accurate?
She swallowed and then continued. “I believe I am with child, your ladyship. I have not, forgive my indelicacy, had my courses since before my marriage. My mother is temperamental at best, and my aunt is far too busy with her brood to respond in a timely manner.” Not precisely true, but the explanation would hopefully prove effective.
Lady Catherine sat back, her rigid posture relaxing marginally. “Sit down.”
Jane took the chair closest to her ladyship’s throne and sat on the edge, her hands clasped in her lap. “I only related my suspicions to my sister Monday evening,” she said quietly. “I have been searching for a moment to call upon you ever since.”
The lady frowned. “I suppose I cannot fault you for speaking to your sister first,” she conceded. “It speaks well of you to approach me next. There are no others with as much knowledge and authority on the matter as I. Tell me, have you felt ill in the mornings?”
“I have. My appetite is returning slowly, though some things still cause upset.”
“And you have not felt the quickening?”
Jane shook her head. “I do not wish to inform my husband until I can be certain.”
Lady Catherine nodded sagely. “That is a wise decision. Mr. Collins will fret unnecessarily. It is best to wait. I had planned to serve fish tonight. Will that be acceptable? I detested fish when I expected Anne.”
Surprised at her ladyship’s thoughtfulness, Jane replied. “I have avoided fish, for the smell makes my discomfort worse. I would not impose upon you to change your menu, however. It is not my place.”
“Your sense of propriety does you credit, Mrs. Collins, but it is no trouble. What would you have in its place? Beef? Lamb? Perhaps chicken? I have a brace of pheasants that might also be prepared.”
“Any of those options sound delightful, madam. I would be pleased to partake in whichever you choose.” Jane did not wish to volunteer her preference, uncertain that Lady Catherine’s largesse would extend to that, despite her words to the contrary.
“Pheasant, then. It will pair well with the other course.” She rang the bell and dispatched the directions for the kitchens immediately. When the maid departed, she said, “Have you enough ginger tea to soothe your anxiety? Peppermint works as well. If you need any, I will see some delivered to the parsonage.”
Surprised again, Jane demurred. “We are well stocked, I thank you.”
Lady Catherine’s demanding demeanor softened. “I remember well what it is like to expect a child, Mrs. Collins.” Her tone was almost gentle. “I would not have you suffer unnecessarily.”
