“ThenIconcur with Aunt Catty’s advice.”
The woman in question, detecting from her nephew’s tone of voice that he was wholly unserious in his agreement with her, made an annoyed sound, and said, “Whatever you two might say, locomotion upon those crutches is unsightly, undignified, and makes you look more like a beggar than the possessor of one of the greatest fortunes in the land.”
The dinner bell rang, ending this discussion. At the table Darcy sat next to Anne. He made some effort to engage her in conversation, but she spoke little for the first half of the dinner, and what she did say was mostly upon how her feet were perpetually cold in the winter, and a litany of health complaints.
Much as usual.
However at one point, as the group was engaged in a general conversation upon the improvements which Lord Matlock was considering in making to his estate, Anne suddenly exclaimed to Darcy, “Our new vicar has written to us about the kindness which you showed to his cousins while in Hertfordshire.”
“You mean Mr. Collins?” Darcy asked after having to think for a moment. Though he had met the man several times, the vicar had not made any impression, except as a bore.
“Yes, Mr. Collins. Is he not such a kindly man? He always says the nicest things to me.” Anne seemed serious, but there was something about the way she spoke that gave Darcy the impression that this was meant as a joke.
“What is this kindness that you showed?” Lady Amelia asked, with a smile at him. “You were always such a generous boy.”
“Nothing of the sort,” Darcy replied. “One of his cousins became very sick while visiting Mr. Bingley’s sisters at Netherfield, and I merely called from London the physician who developed my plan of treatment to examine her.”
Lord Matlock laughed. “Called a London physician twenty-five miles out of town to consult upon a case. He must depend upon your patronage a great deal.”
“Mr. Thompson’s aid was invaluable in setting me on the correct course to recovery,” Darcy replied, a little stiffly.
“You haven’t recovered,” Lady Catherine replied. “You cannot walk.”
“I can.”
“Crutch walking is not walking.”
“Madam,” Darcy replied to his aunt, “in the previous sentence you referred to it as ‘walking’.”
“What, should you now claim that if you were to walk upon your hands like a circus performer that thattoowould be walking?” Lady Catherine replied sharply. Darcy always believed that his aunt enjoyed arguing about the proper use of a word as much as he, or any other disputatious gentleman, did.
It was rather a pity in Darcy’s view that the oldest daughter of the earl had not been the youngest son, and thus sent off to study law. She would have made a fabulous barrister or judge.
“And what happened to the girl?” Lady Amelia asked softly, to break up the argument between her sister-in-law and nephew.Shenever enjoyed watching such disputes. “Did your doctor cure her?”
“No,” Anne answered for Darcy, her voice light and soft, “Mr. Collins says that she is completely blind, with no hope of any improvement. It must be a curse of God upon her, for she was very beautiful.”
“Only poor luck,” Darcy replied annoyedly. “She was only unlucky — and at least she survived.”
“Oh, how horrid,” Lady Amelia said.
Darcy’s mind returned to Elizabeth. What had she been doing since they parted? It had not been long at all. She had been so worried for Jane.
Anne turned to Darcy, and she also said, “Mr. Collins also said you had been kind to the cousin of his who he has the most particular interest in.”
“What?”
“An Elizabeth. That you two talked often.”
“Mr. Collins has a particular interest in Elizabeth? I mean Miss Elizabeth?” Darcy replied with some surprise. “I saw nothing of the sort.”
Except he had.
Something about Mr. Collins's behavior with his “lovely cousin” implied that he was likely to ask her to marry him. Perhaps he already had.
No.
Elizabeth was too… clever to marry that fool. Certainly she was?
