Lady Catherine sniffed and held out her hand, while Mr. Fitzroy extended his arm. “Lady Catherine. May I escort you into dinner?”
She reached up and patted his cheek. “Oh, George, my dear brother. I knew you would come to save me.”
Darcy nearly wavered hearing his aunt mistake him for his father but recovered quickly when she demanded he escort her into dinner.
He felt the tug on his arm and looked down at his aunt. “Lady Catherine?”
“I expect I shocked that upstart. He has no place at the head of my table!” Her vehemence was strong, and Darcy remained silent. “Do not worry, Darcy. Your secret is safe with me.”
He went rigid. “Lady Catherine, I must ask why you insist on calling me Darcy? My name is William Fitzroy.”
“If that is what you wish,” she said as he pulled the chair out for her. “You will sit to my right, Mr. Fitzroy.” She raised her voice and said, “Mr. Bingley, you will sit to my left. I am not fond of a tradesman at my table but, in this instance, I need men I can trust on both sides of me.”
She persisted in arranging the seats until they were to her satisfaction, and then she sipped her wine.
“Mr. Collins. I believe you must remind Mr. Wickham of the ills of sin. He was unable to attend your services this past Sunday and missed your thoughtful sermon.”
Wickham’s nostrils flared, and his jaw tensed. “Lady Catherine, I believe you forget yourself.”
“No, Wickham. I believe I am remembering myself.” Turning to Darcy, she said, “Darcy, you and Bingley must go for a ride with me tomorrow in the barouche box. I insist. Tell my sister, Lady Anne, we have business to attend, and her company is not needed.”
Lady Catherine stood then and threw her napkin on the table while everyone stared at her, eyes wide, before the men stood. “I am tired and have decided I will take a tray in my room. Darcy, I will expect you and Bingley at ten tomorrow morning. Do not be late.”
“Yes, Your Ladyship,” Darcy said as the rest of the room watched her go in silence.Does she still believe I am my father?
After she had exited, a quiet buzz began down at the other end of the table. Darcy looked from Wickham to Anne. One’s eyes were filled with steel while the others were filled with triumph.
An imperious smirk played across Wickham’s lips before he said, “Mr. Fitzroy, Bingley. I hope you are notconcerned with keeping that appointment at Rosings tomorrow. By morning, Lady Catherine will have forgotten her antics and will not be expecting you.”
Darcy watched Anne’s features and replied accordingly, “I thank you for the advice, Mr. Wickham, but I can only speak for myself. I will arrive by ten. If Lady Catherine changes her mind, I will return to the parsonage.”
“As will I,” Bingley said tightly.
“Bingley, there is no reason for you to come. She will be horrified to think she requested your company.”
Bingley reached for his glass and took a sip of wine. His emotions were barely beneath the surface. “I thank you for your concern, Wickham. But I have learned to abide my own counsel.”
There was a slight gasp from Mrs. Collins, and an unspoken tension grew. Darcy saw Elizabeth reach for Georgiana’s hand. Only Mr. Collins seemed oblivious of the scene playing out in the dining room as he finished the last of his white soup.
Day 7
Lady Catherine de Bourgh had been a formidable force. In Darcy’s other life, she had ruled Rosings with an iron fist, not allowing the whims of any one person to drown out her own will. Her behavior since his arrival had left him stupefied, and he was grateful her fortitude had resurrected the previous evening.
He still had no idea what his aunt was about with her summons to Rosings. Still, he knew she did not intend to forget their appointment, as Wickham had so unceremoniously stated the night before. And she had not. With rugs tucked around her legs and a hot brick at her feet, the party of three passed the village of Hunsford.
“And who do you have watching your shop today?” Lady Catherine asked Bingley, her eyes fixed on the passing fields out the carriage window.
“I have a boy from the village who helps, Mr. John Clarkston’s son, Your Ladyship. He is quite capable.”
“That is well, then. Maybe you will learn economy and your father’s fortune will be replenished.”
Bingley seemed to stiffen but offered a small smile as a reply.
“And you, Mr. Fitzroy? What do we know about you?”
“I have an estate in—”
“Yes, yes, in Salisbury, I have been told. But what about you threatens Mr. Wickham so?”
