The colonel’s anxiety rose to an almost unbearable height.
“We are leaving in the morning!” he called after him. Darcy was already mounting the stairs and merely lifted his hand in an indistinct gesture without turning. It conveyed no meaning, yet unhappily, the colonel knew him too well—his obstinacy matched his pride—and as long as they remainedunder the same roof with Lady Catherine, he would not suffer him to propose to their cousin, Anne de Bourgh.
∞∞∞
Then he remembered Mr Collins, who had not stopped to speak with them, and suddenly understood. The man was on a mission far more important than flattering Lady Catherine’s nephews. He was eager to reveal to his benefactress what had passed at the Parsonage—the offer of marriage and Miss Bennet’s refusal—confident that, for such intelligence, he might be rewarded with half a smile.
The colonel could almost see Lady Catherine in her favourite armchair, dozing at that hour, yet instantly revived by the news, already preparing her offensive. What moment could be more propitious than this, when Darcy lay defeated, struck down, with a pain in his heart impossible to disguise? Her moment had at last arrived, and their aunt would know how to profit from her nephew’s weakness.
This marriage had been her dream since Anne’s birth, but since her husband’s death, it had grown into an obsession, for only through Darcy could she continue to rule over Rosings, which was, in truth, Anne’s inheritance. Any other husband would have claimed his rights at once and obtained them despite all her opposition. With Darcy, however, all was simple. Possessing an estate nearly two hundred miles away, he would never concern himself with imposing his authority in Kent. He would be content to know her there, capable and devoted.
As the colonel walked towards his chamber, it even occurred to him that perhaps for this very reason she had raised Anne in such a manner—kept from air and society, maintaining her in that delicate, sickly state—only to ensure she would nevermarry. But now matters stood otherwise, and the artful Lady Catherine must have felt it beyond doubt. From that moment, his own purpose became clear: to prevent that marriage.
He refreshed himself in haste and descended. To his satisfaction, he found Lady Catherine alone, and from his valet he learnt that Darcy had departed on horseback but a few minutes earlier. For the present, matters were well, and he resolved to keep them so, even if it meant placing himself between Lady Catherine’s designs and Darcy until morning.
He dreaded the dinner—the meeting of the two—for although he had chosen the army, he was by nature a man of peace and conciliation, and he abhorred quarrels and angry arguments. Yet, for once, Darcy’s fate was of greater importance. His valet received a precise instruction—to watch for Mr Darcy’s return and to inform his master the instant he should descend into the drawing-room where Lady Catherine was seated.
Chapter 10
Darcy did not come down until dinner, which might be taken as a good sign, for perhaps he had returned to his former way of being, when no one could tell what passed within his heart. Yet, when they sat at the table—only the three of them, Lady Catherine having hastily excused Anne, who, it was said, did not feel well—the colonel understood that the battle was about to begin. He sighed deeply, but his resolution did not waver. He would save Darcy, and even if his cousin were displeased that evening, he would one day thank him for his intervention.
Lady Catherine did not disappoint. She opened the attack at once, even before the first course was served.
“I have heard,” she began, “that there have been some interesting events at the Parsonage today.”
Darcy raised his eyes from his plate and cast a reproachful look towards the colonel, who hastened to defend himself.
“How can you imagine that it was I? Lady Catherine has other sources of information at the Parsonage, both faithful and prompt to acquaint her with every event.”
“Mr Collins?” asked Darcy, a disdainful smile curving upon his lips.
His aunt said nothing, pretending to begin her meal. The colonel could not help but admire her self-command. To see her, in general company, declaiming without restraint, one might have thought her incapable of mastering her temper—yet one would have been mistaken. That evening, Lady Catherine proved herself a strategist who knew how to wield her weapons and to measure her discourse.
“Fitzwilliam,” she said at length, in a tone calm and even mild; for she seldom used their Christian names.
“Yes, aunt,” returned Darcy in the same manner, for he rarely addressed her so either.
“I believe you must be sensible that persons within our circle ought to marry among themselves. The incident of today, which I do not doubt has given you pain, is but proof that the several ranks of society cannot be mingled—no more than oil with water.”
Darcy looked at her, then at the colonel, and replied only,
“I believe no one is interested in what has passed today, and I would wish this conversation to cease.”
“Agreed,” said Lady Catherine, eager to forget that her nephew might harbour regrets for Miss Bennet which could prevent him from considering his future—or, worse still, tempt him to renew his pursuit. She was shrewd enough to know that nothing inflamed a man’s spirit more than a refusal...yet she trusted that Darcy’s wounded pride would prove stronger than any tender feeling he might still entertain.
“Let us then speak of the future,” she continued, in that calm and reserved tone she so rarely employed, being more accustomed to speaking loudly and at length.
Darcy made no reply and began to eat, perhaps in the hope of silencing her by such indifference. But he was mistaken; Lady Catherine was only at the beginning of her harangue.
“You know well that your mother and I—may my dear sister rest in peace—spoke, from the time of Anne’s birth, of a union between you and her. I believe that the wish of a mother, now no longer among us, must have some weight with you. Such a marriage would be ideal; without the affectations and impertinences displayed by the young women of the present age, brought up in a very different spirit from that in which I have reared Anne—”
“Lady Catherine,” interrupted Darcy firmly, at the very moment when the colonel was about to intervene, “that you may spare yourself this discourse... I am engaged to be married. The wedding shall take place at Christmas.”
Both Lady Catherine and the colonel let their forks fall in astonishment, the sound ringing out in the tense silence.
Lady Catherine, however, recovered quickly, while the colonel smiled, persuaded that Darcy had at last prevailed upon Miss Bennet.
“I shall not permit you to marry that young lady!” cried she. “I shall write to my brother, who is the head of this family—”
