Georgiana appeared far happier than on their previous journey south. Wickham’s betrayal had left a deep wound, not easily healed, yet the quiet months at home had done her good. Though still shy, Darcy could see she had regained her enjoyment of life, and her anticipation of the future. For that, he could ask for nothing more.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
15 March 1812
Hunsford
Elizabeth
Itwasawarmmorning when Elizabeth and her travel companions departed for Kent. Miss Lane and Elinor made pleasant companions on the journey; they devised all manner of games to keep the little girl amused for as long as possible. At last, lulled by the carriage’s steady motion, Elinor fell asleep and remained so until the wheels slowed before the parsonage gate.
“Welcome!” Mr Collins called as they alighted. Elizabeth turned to receive her daughter from Miss Lane, who followed mistress and child down to the drive.
Mary hurried forward, embracing Elizabeth and pressing a fond kiss to Elinor’s cheek. The child murmured a drowsy greeting before hiding her face in her mother’s neck.
“Let us get Elinor inside, shall we?” Mary proposed, motioning to the door. “Good day to you, Miss Lane.”
The governess inclined her head and accompanied them inside. A footman stepped forward to assist Sloan and Kane with the trunks, whilst Mr Collins directed them before joining the ladies within.
“Tea is laid in the parlour,” Mary announced, leading them into a cheerful room at the front of the house. “I have all your favourites. Goodness, Lizzy, how delightful it is to have guests!”
“You have been married only a fortnight,” Elizabeth returned, laughter in her eyes. “I own I was surprised by your insistence that I visit so soon. But do not mistake my meaning—I am very happy to come.”
Mary coloured prettily. “Do not imagine that my eagerness for company betrays any want of harmony in my marriage. William is everything I could desire, and we are very happy. ’Tis only…I miss female society and—”
Elizabeth touched her hand. “No need for apologies. I meant only to tease you a little. Elinor and I are equally eager to explore the countryside before we go to the sea.”
“Oh, how I envy you! I shall have to persuade Mr Collins to take me as soon as may be. Just imagine—the waves crashing upon the shore, the shells, the sea-birds…”
Elizabeth’s smile turned impish. “And what of sea-bathing?”
Mary spluttered, then laughed with her. As she bent to pour the tea, Elizabeth’s gaze travelled about the room.
The drawing room offered comfort rather than grandeur—a pleasant space with plump armchairs and a pretty settee. Blue and yellow curtains framed the windows, their hues repeated in the upholstery. A thick rug of dark blue and ivory, touched with yellow, softened the floorboards, and a generous fireplace promised warmth when evenings grew chill.
“This is a charming room,” Elizabeth remarked. “Do you receive callers here?”
“I do. Mr Collins’s study lies opposite, and there is a smaller parlour at the back where we spend our evenings. I shall give you a tour after tea, if you wish.”
“I should like that above anything.”
Elinor had shaken off her sleepiness and was wandering about, Miss Lane following close behind, murmuring in hushed tones to keep her occupied.
When tea was finished, Mr Collins and Mary conducted their guests through the house. It proved spacious and agreeable, with ample room for visitors—and, in time, children. Elizabeth’s bedchamber adjoined that of Miss Lane and Elinor, near enough that the child might reach her mother, should she wake in the night.
Mary remarked on the shelves Lady Catherine had insisted be installed in the closets, an improvement of which her husband clearly disapproved. He muttered his opinion under his breath until his wife, with a glance of warning, murmured that gratitude alone was expected for suchcondescension. “My husband is slowly removing them,” she confided, “save where they are of use.”
Lady Catherine sounded a singular sort of woman and just as she had supposed when Mr Collins described her months ago. She was by all accounts officious, controlling, and quite intolerable to Elizabeth’s mind—too reminiscent of—No, she would not allow unwanted thoughts spoil her visit.She doubted she would bear the lady’s patronage with much equanimity. That doubt would soon be tested, for Mary informed her that the entire party had been invited to dine on the morrow.
“Lady Catherine wishes to make your acquaintance. I fear you will not like her at all. Her questions are impertinent, and she insists upon answers to each.”
Elizabeth’s eyes filled with mischief. “’Tis fortunate then that I have a peculiar talent for answering without truly replying.”
Dinner proved to be just as troublesome as Mary had predicted. Miss Lane remained at the parsonage with Elinor, and as the others set out down the lane to Rosings, Elizabeth wishedshemight have stayed behind with her daughter. Yet it was best to have this unpleasant encounter over quickly; she resolved, therefore, to meet the evening with courage and patience.
The walk to the grand manor was pleasant enough. The air still held a touch of winter’s chill, but everywhere she looked, spring was pressing forward—flowers blooming along the hedge rows, young leaves unfurling on the trees. Several shaded paths tempted her; she resolved to explore them whilst she remained in Kent. Mr Collins had proudly informed her that Lady Catherine permitted them to wander through her gardens and groves, a privilege Elizabeth intended to enjoy to its fullest extent.
They were ushered into a richly adorned drawing room, and Elizabeth took in every detail. Gold leaf edged the ceiling and gleamed along the arms of the chairs; red and gold upholstery glimmered in the candlelight, and carved woodwork caught the glow from the mirrored walls. In the midst of this splendour sat the lady herself—Lady Catherine de Bourgh, imperious in her high-backed chair. Her keen eyes swept over her visitors.
