“This match to which you aspire can never take place. Mr Darcy is engaged to my daughter.”
“If it was so, he would never have made an offer to me,” Elizabeth retorted assertively.
Lady Catherine hesitated, then replied, “Their betrothal is of a peculiar kind. They have been engaged since infancy as the dearest wish of her mother as well as his. Now that our plans for the union might be accomplished, I shall not allow a young woman of inferior birth, of no consequence in the world, and wholly unallied to the family, to prevent it. They are suited in every way, from their descent from ancient lines to their education. Are you lost to every feeling of propriety and delicacy?”
“The Bennets came to England with William the Conqueror. If you have no other objections than the wish of his mother and aunt, I shall not jilt him.”
“You will be censured, slighted, and despised by all of superior society.”
“A heavy misfortune indeed, but as Mrs Darcy I shall have such extraordinary sources of happiness that I shall have no reason to repine.”
“What if he is shunned to the detriment of his income and must live on a pittance of what Pemberley is worth?”
Elizabeth hesitated. How dependent upon his fortune was Mr Darcy? Would he resent her if his income was significantly reduced? No, it was impossible because she had every faith in her betrothed and was even more certain of their love.
“I am a decent seamstress and would supplement our income by taking on work.”
Lady Catherine stepped intimidatingly closer. “I am not in the habit of brooking disappointment,” she hissed.
“That makes your ladyship’s situation more pitiable, but it has no effect on me.”
Lady Catherine turned away before making the vilest accusation yet. “You remind me of myself as a young lady.”
“That is the most insulting observation anyone has ever made about me,” Elizabeth cried and made to leave.
Lady Catherine threw back her head, laughed heartily, and halted her movement. “I was not speaking about your beauty but your character. I see in you a younger version of my headstrong, wilful self. Never lose your opinionated, obstinate streak. It will serve you well.” Lady Catherine frowned, and her eyes searched Elizabeth’s countenance. “You truly do remind me of someone I have not seen for decades. Are you certain you do not have German ancestry?”
Elizabeth’s stomach dropped. How could Lady Catherine know that her grandmother was of German descent? No, it must be a coincidence. It was best not to mention it. Grandmother Bennet’s reconciliation with her brother was by no means a certainty, and divulging family secrets was not her place.
“As I said, the Bennets are of ancient French descent,” Elizabeth replied evenly. It was not a lie, merely an omission.
The older lady nodded. “That is a relief. You will do.” Lady Catherine laced their arms and pulled Elizabeth farther away from the house. “We shall be great friends, you and I, but the rest of the family might oppose your marriage, even if you descend from an ancient line. Longbourn is a modest estate, and your father has no title. Do you have any other connections worthy of mention?”
If Lady Catherine thought that insulting her and then affecting a friendship would induce her to be explicit, the lady’s string of disappointments was only just beginning. She was no more inclined to be duped than intimidated.
“Certainly!” Elizabeth had no relatives to be ashamed of, if one overlooked Lady Catherine’s own toad of a parson. “I have one uncle in Meryton, who is the town’s solicitor, and another uncle in London. Mr Gardiner resides in Gracechurch Street, close to his warehouses.”
“That is unfortunate indeed…”
“Not at all,” Elizabeth emphasised every word. “I—”
“Lady Catherine!” a winded male voice called from behind. A footman in the de Bourgh livery was hastening down the path, almost breaking into a run. “Miss de Bourgh is suffering one of her fits, your ladyship.”
The lady on her arm stiffened, then hauled Elizabeth in the direction whence they had come. The grand lady was sprightly for her age, and they returned to Longbourn with due haste, whilst Elizabeth pondered what sort of fit Miss de Bourgh was enduring. Was she heartbroken after the news of Mr Darcy’s engagement? Or jealous?
Lady Catherine steered them to her carriage and opened the door. Inside, an elderly woman fussed over a pale lady, who was clutching her stomach. The next moment she retched, though nothing left her body but violent trembles.
“We must move her inside at once,” Elizabeth ordered, wondering what had possessed a mother to travel so far with an ailing daughter.
“We cannot possibly impose,” the young lady protested meekly between the bouts.
“One does not impose where an invitation is freely given,” Elizabeth asserted. “Can you walk?”
Miss de Bourgh nodded, and with the aid of Elizabeth, Lady Catherine, and the woman she soon learnt was Mrs Jenkinson, the party proceeded slowly into the house. Miss de Bourgh was taken to a guest chamber, where she quickly dismissed her mother and companion. The former was shown a room where she might refresh herself, whilst the latter joined Mrs Hill in the kitchen to prepare a special tisane. Miss de Bourgh rested on the bed with a deathly pale complexion and a taut expression.
“Is there anything I can do for your present relief? A glass of wine perhaps? Or shall I send for the apothecary?” Elizabeth offered once they were alone.
“I thank you, no. I know perfectly well what ails me, and I have brought half a dozen tinctures with me, though little good the vile concoctions do me.”
