Miss Lizzie Bennet, easy to quash and criticise, disappeared entirely behind the formidable Mrs. Darcy.
She wore a dark red gown with black embroidery on the sleeves and jet beads on the hem. It made a soothing clicking noise when she moved. The thick fabric rustled when she moved, whispering of wealth and status. Her hair was expertly pinned into a braided bun, but she wore no girlish ornaments. Her jewellery was expensive and timeless: garnet earrings and a necklace that was so heavy that it was sure to leave red marks around her neck.
In summary, Elizabeth looked every inch the Mistress of Pemberley.
Darcy held his authority more effortlessly. All he needed to wear was his finest coat and a look of detached refinement. He caught Elizabeth’s hand when they heard the carriage approach, and for a moment all of the love he felt for her was written clearly and beautifully on his face.
“You are magnificent.” he whispered, squeezing her fingers, “Show her how small she truly is.”
Elizabeth squared her shoulders. The carriage arrived.
Clearly, even though she had been told in advance that she was to stay at the dower house, Mrs. Bennet had expected to be received at Pemberley itself. The carriage sat for a long time on the smaller driveway. They could hear a raised voice from withinordering the driver todrive on!The footman who opened the door was soundly scolded, as was the servant who was efficiently unloading the luggage. Finally - finally! - Mrs. Bennet emerged.
She was wearing a brand new coat, far too fine to be travelled in, which had been much crumpled by the journey. There was a slight smirk on her face, like a cat eating cream. Elizabeth sighed, guessing that keeping her hosts waiting had been part of Mrs. Bennet’s petty plan.
The older woman’s attention fell first upon the dower house. Mary had done her work well, and it was a picture of perfection. New curtains and freshly painted doors, potted roses and a carefully transplanted climbing honeysuckle made the house look welcoming and feminine. Mrs. Bennet could not hide her pleasure, but took her time counting the windows and chimneypots. It was obviously a trick to make her daughter feel smaller. Elizabeth was supposed to think that she meant less to her mother than ten unbricked windows. Then, finally, their eyes met.
Mrs. Bennet’s reaction was immediate. Her jaw dropped and her hands fluttered aimlessly to her sides. She patted her own, frizzy hair instinctively and then reddened, knowing that she was being observed. An air of indifference was adopted; her voice was cold.
“Well, Lizzie, I see that you have worn your finest dress to greet me.”
“It is not my finest dress.” Elizabeth replied just as coolly, “I have many. You remember my husband, mama: Mr. Darcy?”
Mrs. Bennet met his eyes only after she returned his bow. “You let your wife flaunt herself, sir. Does it please you to have your fortune on display?”
“Mrs. Darcy pleases me in all respects, madam.” he answered smoothly, “Welcome to Pemberley.”
“Pemberley? Pemberley is overthere.”
“It is - and it is overrun with preparations for the ball. We thought you would be more comfortable here.” Elizabeth countered, not missing a beat. “May I introduce you to your staff, mother?”
Mrs. Bennet could not hide her pleasure at that phrase. She seemed to physically inflate at the deference. Before they could move, however, she held up her hand.
“You must greet your cousin first, Lizzie. Just because you conspire against the poor man does not mean that you can ignore him entirely.”
Elizabeth paled and glanced at the carriage. Sure enough, a pasty creature with a mop of over combed, greasy hair was climbing clumsily down.
“Oh! I thought that he would arrive with Lady Catherine.” she croaked, trying to hide her shock, “We have made no preparations for another guest, mama.”
“Do not trouble yourself; I assumed as much. I invited him to stay with me, not with you. Who would want to stay where he is maligned and misunderstood? You put this house at my disposal, Lizzie, and I can invite whomever I please.”
Once again, Elizabeth knew that her mother would not have found this smug loophole by herself. It was far too clever. The small smile on her approaching cousin’s face confirmed it.
“Mr. Collins,” Lizzie said dully, “What a pleasant surprise.”
“Mrs. Darcy,” he replied with matching disdain, “Mr. Darcy. Will you kindly let my fiancée know that have arrived? We have much to discuss.”
“Who do you refer to, sir?” Elizabeth bit, “I had no idea that you were engaged.”
“I am speaking of your sister, as you are well aware.”
“Which one?”
“Lizzie!” Mrs. Bennet snapped, “Stop this foolishness. You know very well that Mr. Collins speaks of Jane.”
Elizabeth looked at Darcy, who had been watching the whole squabble with a growing frown. The only reason he was silent, she knew, was because she had asked him not to intercede. This was her battle, and she was determined to win it. Summoning her most innocent expression and an air of surprise, she cried:
“Oh,Jane!She is otherwise engaged, sir.”
