“You must take the time to tour the park before you take your leave,” Lady Catherine directed Sir William. “I understand from Mr. Collins that you will not remain longer than a sen’night; therefore, it is imperative for you to seize the opportunity while you can. Miss Elizabeth and Miss Lucas are welcome to walk thegrounds as often as they wish during their stay. I am very liberal in that way.”
“Yes, thank you.” Sir William seemed uncertain how to respond, but his usual affable manner soon asserted itself. He began to speak to their hostess of his knighthood. Lady Catherine, to her credit, listened with attention, occasionally offering remarks on how such matters ought to have been conducted when he was first presented at St. James’s.
After fifteen minutes, during which the rest of the party listened in silence to their exchange, dinner was announced.
Elizabeth found herself seated near Lady Catherine, and thus underwent an interrogation from the moment the first course was served. “You are the second of five daughters?” the lady inquired. “Upon my word, your mother must have been a slave to your education. And your poor father! How he must suffer, having no son. I cannot imagine he hears much sensible conversation.”
“My father would agree with you, madam. Save for myself and Jane, he declares his daughters to be among the silliest girls in all England. My eldest sister is soon to be married, and I dare say he does not look forward to the loss of one less sensible companion in the house.” Elizabeth took a sip of her soup.
“Married? That is good for your family. Tell me, is he wealthy? Will he provide for you once your father is gone? Your father’s estate is entailed upon Mr. Collins, is it not? It would behoove all your sisters to take that into account when accepting proposals.” She sniffed delicately and signaled the butler for the next course.
“Mr. Bingley is a fine man, your ladyship, and his temperament is a perfect match for my sister’s. I am certain they will be incredibly happy together.” Elizabeth refrained from answering the lady’s probing questions directly, bristling slightly at the implication that only fortune mattered when considering one’s future.
“Such a fine gentleman!” Sir William interjected. “He leased the largest estate in the area—Netherfield Park. Mr. Bingley is affable and courteous, a desirable guest at any house in Hertfordshire. His arrival caused quite a stir. Many young ladies sought his attention, but it was no surprise when he settled upon Miss Bennet. She is one of the jewels of the county and a rare beauty.”
Lady Catherine nodded imperiously. “Miss Elizabeth is a pretty sort of girl. Of course, it follows her elder sister possesses the same beauty. Such things areusuallypassed down in families.”She turned to her daughter, who seemed to wilt under the scrutiny. “It is a good thing Anne’s future is secure. No one would want her otherwise.”
A slow burn of anger rose within Elizabeth.How could a mother speak so meanly of her child?She began to wonder whether Mr. Darcy was subjected to similar hurtful remarks from his aunt.That would certainly explain why he only comes only once a year. I should not wish to spend more time than necessary with someone so…unkind.She made it her aim to befriend Miss de Bourgh while in Kent.The lady deserves to receive some kindness in her life.
Lady Catherine dominated the evening, with only Sir William inserting a word now and then. Maria remained silent, likely too nervous to speak. Mr. Collins replied whenever his patroness spoke to him, but otherwise confined his conversation with his wife and his guests. Elizabeth noticed Charlotte touch his sleeve several times—a subtle signal, it seemed, to temper his abundant remarks.
Upon returning to the parsonage, all retired directly to bed. Elizabeth lay awake for a time, meditating on the events of the past two days. As sleep finally overtook her, she had it in mind to take a long walk on the morrow in hopes of clearing her head.
Chapter Twenty-One
March 7, 1812
Kent
Darcy
“YouarefortunateIwas able to change my leave, Darcy. Mother will be pleased, for it means I shall spend Easter with her rather than remain in Kent.” Colonel Fitzwilliam tugged at his sleeves and looked out the carriage window. “Now, remind me why we are leaving for Rosings nearly three weeks early.”
“Elizabeth is staying with her friend at Hunsford Parsonage.” Darcy quickly explained what he had learned. “I intended to leave for Hertfordshire yesterday, but upon discovering she had come to Kent…well, I altered my plans. I only hope she will hear me long enough to permit an apology and beg her forgiveness.”
“Yes, you have quite the task ahead—groveling is so unbecoming in a Darcy, but I trust you shall manage it.” Richardgrinned. “Truly, it was masterful—a grand disappearance without so much as a word of explanation. Still, if Miss Elizabeth is even half as besotted as you are, she may take pity on your poor, tortured soul and forgive you. And if my suppositions are wrong, and shewas, in fact, speaking of you, then you can retreat to Pemberley, lick your wounds, and compose mournful sonnets to the portrait of her you will no doubt hang in your study. By the bye, have you written to Bingley lately?”
Darcy laughed. “That will do, Richard. I take your meaning,” he said, still grinning with chagrin. “As to Bingley, I had a letter from him yesterday. He is engaged to Miss Bennet and wishes me to stand up with him in May. I plan to write to him as soon as we arrive at Rosings and accept.” Darcy closed his eyes and pictured Elizabeth beside him, her hand in his as they exchanged vows.I hope it is not too late.Without thinking, he reached up and traced the mottled skin of the scar, then the dark red blotch that discolored his visage.
“It will not disappear, no matter how often you touch it. Besides, you only draw attention to it when you do that.” Richard rolled his eyes and stretched his legs as far as the carriage allowed. Crossing his ankles, he laced his fingers behind his head. “How will you deal with our aunt? You know she will raise the matter of your marriage to Anne. Does Miss Elizabeth know the entire scheme is the invention of our aunt’s own making?”
“She does. The topic arose while I was in Hertfordshire.” Darcy folded his hands and rested them in his lap, attempting to still his nervous movements. “Lady Catherine can bluster as she pleases. I will not marry Anne. Besides, our cousin has already told me she would refuse, were I to offer.”
“Did she, now?” Richard looked genuinely surprised. “Does she not wish to marry? Anne is not so sickly as our aunt claims. Anyone would appear frail if confined indoors at all times. Theold gorgon is far too preoccupied with shielding her daughter’s face from the world.”
“Anne sneaks out in her phaeton on occasion,” Darcy murmured. “Had our uncle not died so early in her life, I dare say she might have led a far happier existence.” Sir Lewis had died shortly before Anne’s sixteenth birthday. The once cheerful child had become a shadow of her former self. She never attended school, and her mother refused to allow visitors outside the family.
Darcy had heard her words on the subject often enough. “I cannot have anyone seeing that ghastly mark. ’Tis one thing for a man to bear it, but a lady? Neither I nor my sister had such an ugly blemish. I blame the weakness of the de Bourgh line. You will have to marry her, Darcy, to spare her the criticism of the ton.”It was dreadful.
“We ought to do something for her. She has been under our aunt’s control far too long.”
“Did I not tell you?” Richard sat up, grinning. “I am under orders from my father to bring Anne back to town with us. Parliament keeps him there or he would come himself. How we shall manage it, I know not. Our dear cousin turned five-and-twenty in January. If we cannot take Anne away, then he will come for her in June.”
Darcy’s brow crept upward, his scar pulling slightly with the movement. “We shall have to spirit her away in the night. Aunt Catherine will never consent.”
“Anne can make her own decisions now. The estate is hers entirely since coming of age. Why do you suppose our aunt has become so persistent in urging your marriage? With Anne installed at Pemberley, she believes she might still exert control over Rosings.”
Darcy laughed out loud. “She is mistaken if she believes I would allow her to remain in the manor house. No—AuntCatherine would go to the dower house and live on her jointure. Has she forgotten who has managed the estate books these past five years? I know precisely how lavishly she spends. Rosings can sustain her, but one poor harvest would plunge the estate into debt. There is not enough set aside to weather a true emergency.”
