“This is a very small room,” Lady Catherine said after a short silence, “though I suppose it is adequate for a tradesman.”
Elizabeth did not reply. If the lady were to be rude, then she would deign to ignore her.
“Is there a garden? I suppose not, for the houses in the street are too cramped to afford what most civilised people would consider obligatory.”
“There is an extensive garden,” Elizabeth replied, thinking that her continued silence would only embolden the lady. “Thehouse sits off Talbott Court, and the garden extends to the mews beyond.”
Lady Catherine glared at Elizabeth, seeming to interpret her response as impertinent. “I had hoped,” she finally said, “that it would be private, but I abhor being made a public spectacle. I shall take my tea here.”
Elizabeth rang for tea, and asked the maid to inform her aunt of their guest. She returned to her seat, determined to make no effort at conversation with the woman, who was now more than usually insolent and disagreeable.
“You can be at no loss, Miss Bennet, to understand the reason for my journey hither. What little decorum you possess, your own conscience must tell you why I have come.”
Elizabeth looked with unaffected astonishment. But there was something on the edge of her mind; she could not discern it. Lady Catherine’s thoughts were depressed, fading, as though…
Her silence was taken for impudence, and Lady Catherine continued without noticing Elizabeth’s heightened alarm.
“Miss Bennet,” replied her ladyship, in an angry tone, “you ought to know that I am not to be trifled with. But however insincere you may choose to be, you shall not find me so. I have seen the reports in the newspapers. That you are a harlot I can easily accept, for I saw you use your wiles and allurements on my nephew at Mrs. Fairfax’s soirée. Do not deny it—it is there, for everyone to know, that you are not only a woman of base character, a wanton, but in league with the French.”
Elizabeth continued to regard the lady with great concern. The lady’s face was pallid, growing even more pale as she spoke.
“You are at a loss for words,” the woman cried, but her voice was rasping, her breathing uneven. “Of course, you cannot deny the truth of my words. If you are not soon imprisoned, I shall be astonished. But do not look for Darcy to rescue you, even if you have him bewitched by your charms. No, never. My nephew isengaged to my daughter, Miss de Bourgh. Now what do you have to say?”
Elizabeth was now sufficiently alarmed to ring for the maid, not for her to bring the tea, but a glass of wine, perhaps spirits. And to call Mrs. Gardiner downstairs with all urgency. She rushed to Lady Catherine, whose eyes were glazed. The lady suddenly slumped forward, and would have fallen to the floor were it not for Elizabeth catching her.
“Elizabeth, whatever has happened?” exclaimed Mrs. Gardiner, as she ran into the room.
“Lady Catherine, she has fainted. Oh, I do hope it is not worse. Please, can you send for a physician, for she requires immediate attention.”
After a footman had been dispatched to fetch the physician, Elizabeth, with the assistance of the maid, laid Lady Catherine along the settee, placing cushions under her legs.
“Mr. Jones, the apothecary in Meryton, says raising the legs helps blood flow to the brain,” said Elizabeth. “We must also loosen her stays.”
The doctor came, just as her ladyship’s eyes began to flutter. She coughed, then opened her eyes with a look of dim confusion. She glanced about, disoriented, and her gaze fell upon Elizabeth, who knelt beside her with a damp cloth.
“Where am I?” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
“You are in my uncle’s house, Lady Catherine,” Elizabeth replied softly, striving for composure in the face of her own shaken nerves. “You fainted, but the physician is here.”
The doctor, satisfied that the crisis had passed, nodded to Mrs. Gardiner. “She will recover, madam, but her ladyship must remain quiet for some hours. These things pass quickly; likely some excitement has upset her nerves.” He paused, looking thoughtfully at both Mrs. Gardiner and Elizabeth. “Though Iwould not normally recommend it, it may be best if she were to return to her own home. I will not pry, but from what you have said, Miss Bennet, something has agitated her beyond reason.”
Once Lady Catherine had been assisted into her carriage, Mrs. Gardiner called for tea in the parlour, where, just a few moments before, Lady Catherine had lain prone on the settee. A faint odour of smelling salts lingered in the air.
“Lizzy, why did Lady Catherine come?” asked Mrs. Gardiner. “Was it to speak of the orphanage?”
“No, Aunt. She has read the newspaper article. She came to warn me away from Mr. Darcy. She said that he was engaged to her daughter. And that I should soon be imprisoned for what I have done.”
“Oh, Lizzy, surely she cannot be so cruel!”
“Indeed, she is. But, when I went to her aid, her thoughts did not press upon me. This was different—different from the void which surrounded the French soldiers. I have never experienced such before. But there is little I can do. Perhaps her fainting is a sign of some underlying disorder—but that diagnosis is for a physician, not me, to determine.”
The discomposure of spirits, which this extraordinary visit threw Elizabeth into, could not be easily overcome; nor could she for many hours, learn to think of it less than incessantly. Elizabeth had become accustomed to tears, and had thought she had cried enough. But Lady Catherine, sister of Lord Matlock, would certainly hold sway within the family. Mr. Darcy was lost to her, if he had ever been hers at all.
* * *
“Elizabeth, we would like you to come with us on a trip to Derbyshire, where Madeleine spent her childhood.” Mr.Gardiner spoke quietly to Elizabeth as they sat in the parlour. “You need to avoid being seen in London, but not stuck inside the house all day. Lords Matlock and Wellington have issued, in The Times, a rebuttal of that scurrilous article in the Morning Post, but there are many in society who will believe it anyway, for they ever wish to think meanly of people.”
“But surely you cannot go,” she replied. “What of the children?”
