Lady Catherine looked at Elizabeth with some confusion. “Who are you? You act like a servant but are too finely dressed.Does not Georgiana preserve the distinction of rank? A maid, dressed in muslin—what nonsense.”
It was hardly surprising that the lady didn’t remember their earlier encounter, since she had drifted into a restless sleep almost as soon as she was shown to her room. Yet Elizabeth sharply felt the impertinence of her query.
“No, ma’am, I am Mrs. Elizabeth Bennet, come to stay with Miss Darcy while her brother is away.”
“Miss Bennet? I know a family of that name. I sent my rector, Mr. Collins, to marry one of the daughters. Five of them, he told me; yet, when he returned to Hunsford, he had not secured any one. I cannot understand the man. He had the temerity to ask me whether he should marry an older spinster in the village, or a younger daughter of the family. He claimed he had proposed to one daughter, but she had refused him. How preposterous! Certainly, it could not be true, for which woman in their right mind would refuse such an advantageous offer?”
Lady Catherine attempted to sit upright in the bed, but found her arms too weak to support herself. Gently, Elizabeth placed more cushions behind her back, until she had regained the erect position she preferred.
“Indeed, your ladyship,” replied Elizabeth, “my father’s estate is entailed on Mr. Collins. My understanding is that he has secured the hand of my younger sister, Mary, who will suit him very well.”
“Is she a pleasant sort of girl? For I cannot abide anyone vulgar. Was she instructed by a governess?”
“We never had a governess.”
“No governess! How was that possible? Five daughters brought up at home without a governess!—I never heard of such a thing. You and your sisters must be barely literate. Can you read?”
“I assure you, ma’am, we are all lettered, and can also cipher. Our father came down from Oxford. Such of us as wished to learn never wanted the means. We were always encouraged to read, and had all the masters that were necessary. Our mother, the daughter of a barrister, never neglected our education.”
Lady Catherine regarded Elizabeth with narrowed eyes. “I remember you! It was you who had me removed from Darcy’s study—the impertinence of it! I shall complain to Georgiana that her companion acts far above her station.”
“On the contrary, Lady Catherine, I am not Miss Darcy’s companion. That position belongs to Mrs. Younge, who has also sat at your bedside for long hours applying cold compresses to bring down your fever. You owe her, as much as anyone in this house, thanks for her diligent care.”
“Upon my word,” said her ladyship, “who are you then, to speak so? Do you know who I am?”
“You have already informed me,” replied Elizabeth, somewhat amused, for she realised that Lady Catherine was struggling to exert her customary control, notwithstanding her sitting propped up in bed, totally dependent on those around her. “As I have said, I am Miss Darcy’s friend, but also appointed by Lady Jersey to come to Pemberley.”
“Lady Jersey? That imperious and overbearing woman! Whatever can she have to do with Darcy? Certainly not an affair, for he is betrothed to Anne, and is too honourable by far.”
Elizabeth was affronted, both for Lady Jersey and Mr. Darcy. While rumours spread by Lady Jersey’s detractors painted her with the same brush as her mother-in-law, Lady Frances Villiers—the notorious mistress to the Prince of Wales—her sponsor, Lady Sarah Child-Villiers, was a woman of the highest principles. Outspoken perhaps, but a true lady, nevertheless.
“Lady Jersey is a woman above reproach,” replied Elizabeth tersely. “I will not have you, or anyone, slander her.”
Lady Catherine seemed quite astonished at this response; and Elizabeth suspected herself to be the first person who had ever dared to contradict her so blatantly.
“Pray, tell me. What sort of creature are you?” her ladyship mumbled.
“I am, ma’am, Lady Jersey’s private secretary. Mr. Darcy has dealings with Child & Co., which I am not at liberty to reveal. My authority here is to provide oversight on all of Pemberley’s business. Miss Darcy is mistress, and Baxter is head steward, but during the time of Mr. Darcy’s absence, all expenses of the estate are under my supervision.” She paused; the lady regarded her with great bewilderment.
“Lady Catherine, you are fatigued,” said Elizabeth gently. “Rest a while. I shall leave you shortly, and Mrs. Younge will attend you.”
Carefully, Elizabeth removed the cushions; Lady Catherine, genuinely wearied, lay back on the linens, and Elizabeth straightened the counterpane. Within a short while, she was asleep. Her breathing was easy, the fever gone—the worst was past.
Mrs. Younge soon arrived, her arms full of fresh linens and a bottle of lavender water. She peered into the room, observed Lady Catherine’s peaceful sleep, and nodded with satisfaction. “The danger is past, I think. We must still be vigilant, but I will prepare some weak tea and toast. If she will eat, it will be a good sign.”
* * *
Elizabeth was sitting in the drawing room, reflecting on the week’s events. A sennight had passed since the estate had beenquarantined. The constable in Lambton had been immediately informed of the measles outbreak and had quickly quarantined the inn where Lady Catherine had stayed the night before arriving at Pemberley. No further cases were reported—it was increasingly likely that the outbreak had been contained. Thus, she was most aggrieved when Mr. Wickham sauntered along the path outside the balcony doors.
“Mr. Wickham,” she cried, “Pemberley is in quarantine! Whatever do you here?”
The man was clearly taken aback, his face coloured. “I had heard in Lambton that none could leave or enter the estate—that there was some pestilence letting run its course. But I was exceedingly worried, for no one could tell me of who was affected.”
“So, sir, you disregarded all proper behaviour and came to see for yourself! Your conduct is reprehensible. May I ask how you evaded the men guarding the lanes?”
“I walked by the old saddle-pack trail, which leads from Lambton—there’s a turning to either Kympton or to Pemberley. I saw no one until I came by the stables. But, please, Mrs. Bennet, how fares the household?”
The saddle-pack trail? Wickham had spoken of it before—a gap in their defences. Elizabeth called for Winthrop, requesting that a man be sent immediately to prevent further incursions. Elizabeth turned back to Wickham. “Well sir, you must stay until we lift the quarantine. Have you had the measles before?—we must determine where you shall take a bed.”
