Elizabeth felt at one moment that she might cry from shock, fright, and humiliation, and at the next that she was too angry for tears. That she should have been compelled to leave in such a manner was not the most pressing part of her concern. The inconvenience would soon be remedied. Her family would receive her, and the explanation, however imperfect, might be given when there was leisure to do so.
What occupied her more immediately was the circumstance from which the whole had arisen.
Lady Catherine’s meaning had not been obscure.
That she should attribute to Elizabeth adegree of intention which had never formed, and a design which she would not have knowingly pursued, was mortifying, but not, upon reflection, entirely surprising. Her ladyship was not a woman to suppose that others might act without reference to the distinctions she herself held to be of such importance.
Yet the conclusion Lady Catherine had drawn did not follow from the premises she had assumed. Elizabeth shook her head at Lady Catherine’s folly. She could not believe that Mr Darcy’s conduct had been so entirely misunderstood. With a steadiness that was not easily shaken, she recalled all that had passed between them during the last days of her stay. There had been nothing in his manner that could justly give rise to the suspicions his aunt had expressed. His attention had been marked, but not improper. His regard had been evident, but not presumptuous. He had distinguished her, it was true, yet always within the bounds of that respect which she could neither misinterpret nor resent.
If there had been any fault, it had not been his, and she could not believe that his feelings would be altered by what had passed. He was not a man to be governed by the interference of others, however closely they were connected to him. His judgement was his own, and not easily turned.
That his aunt should attempt it was entirely in keeping with her character. That he shouldsubmit to it was not. The thought steadied her.
Darcy would be surprised when he learned what had been done. He would be displeased, perhaps greatly so, and when he understood how she had been sent away, he could not remain indifferent.
What he might do next, she did not attempt to determine. It was enough that she did not doubt him. Darcy would find her.
The road stretched on before them, the distance increasing with every turn of the wheels, yet Elizabeth found that her thoughts did not follow it. They remained fixed where she had left them, in the quiet garden at Hunsford parsonage, and in the conversation that had changed everything.
Whatever might follow, that could not be undone.
Chapter 20
“Was there ever a longer day?” Fitzwilliam groaned as their horses turned up the gravel drive that led to Rosings.
Darcy looked at his cousin with amusement. “Surely you have had at least one or two in the army.”
Fitzwilliam shook his head. “When I have spent all day on the march, or convincing new recruits not to point their guns at their fellow soldiers, at least I know I have accomplished something of purpose. I do not know that we have accomplished anything today.”
“I cannot disagree,” Darcy said thoughtfully. The whole day had been consumed in visiting tenants on Lady Catherine’s instructions, but the urgency that had dominated their aunt’s manner before they set out had no reflection in what they had accomplished. “Rarely have I spent a day in anything that felt so much like a wild goose chase.”
“Perhaps it is not surprising,” Fitzwilliam saidwith a shrug. “We have both contested Lady Catherine’s authority more than once on this trip. This may be our aunt’s way of regaining the upper hand. Did my mother never tell you how Aunt Catherine would try to hide her letters if she displeased her when they were girls?”
Darcy laughed a little at that. “No, but you might tell me now.”
By the time Fitzwilliam had finished relating the story, the supper gong rang, and they were obligated to retreat to their rooms and freshen their dress in haste.
At the supper table, Lady Catherine’s mood was unusually pleasant. She made no objection to the near-total lack of success they had in carrying out her errands, and in fact thanked them for going. Darcy accepted the thanks warily. He would have thought Lady Catherine was mellowing with age, had such a thing not been all but impossible to picture. More likely, his aunt had perhaps received some news that pleased her, or had some other triumph they would soon hear of at great length.
When supper ended, Lady Catherine did not lead the other ladies in retiring. Instead, she turned to Darcy.
“We shall speak now,” she informed him, and without another word, she turned and left the room.
Darcy looked after his aunt in astonishment.The strangeness of her manner was beyond all explanation. “Excuse me,” he said at last to the others, and followed her.
Lady Catherine led him to the room she used for the business of the estate, though it was not the chamber her late husband had used as a study. She had chosen a larger space, which allowed Lady Catherine to place a great chair behind a large table of carved oak for herself, and another, smaller chair facing it, for those she wished to cow into submission.
Lady Catherine took the great chair now, and motioned Darcy to the other. He took it without protest, for anyone truly master of themselves did not need furniture to make the point.
“Well, Lady Catherine?” Darcy inquired. “What is it that you have to say to me?”
“I am your aunt, the closest relation you have living,” Lady Catherine began abruptly, in a rather curious dismissal of her own sister. “You ought to listen to me, Darcy, if to anyone. I have been patient with your delay in wedding Anne, but this has gone on too long.”
“You have made your wishes clear,” Darcy replied. “That Anne and I are not betrothed is not due to any lack of understanding, but to our mutual disinclination. Much as I respect my cousin, the match is entirely unsuitable.”
“Unsuitable!” Lady Catherine exclaimed. “Unsuitable! There could hardly be a more fitting match. What is unsuitable is your recent relations with Elizabeth Bennet.”
“My ‘relations’, as you call them, are none of your concern,” Darcy retorted. “Nor are they such as anyone could reprove. Miss Bennet’s honour, and my own, are above reproach.”
