Richard’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “You told her everything, didn’t you? Darcy, I never thought to see you so wholly let your guard down. There may be hope for you yet, Cousin!” Richard gave him a playful shove on the shoulder.
Darcy smiled, a warm satisfaction growing. “I am glad you approve.”
Richard grunted. “Now, if you please, my bed? I stayed out half the night drinking with the colonel for your sake, and I deserve my beauty sleep.”
Thegreydawndisappointedmore than one person in the general vicinity of Meryton with its heavy downpour. At Longbourn, Elizabeth chafed at being denied the spirited long walk she had desired for herself. Some rebellious part of her had even fantasized that she might encounter Mr Darcy out on one of his early morning rides. A sly little smile curved her lip when she thought what a lovely backdrop Oakham Mount would make for a private conversation. She discovered that she truly wished to speak to him more, to study his character again in light of her new knowledge.Will he still desire to speak to me?
If Jane were correct, he would, and the idea was unreasonably flattering. Elizabeth was not insensible to the compliment of such a distinguished man’s affections. What could have occasioned them? She had never sought his favour, but he seemed to have bestowed it despite her attacks on his honour. She pursed her lips thoughtfully. Only a man of true integrity—or unreasonable obstinacy—would maintain his attachment to a woman who was admittedly beneath his stationandextremely rude to him.
She flushed with mortification at the things she had said. Such wrong assumptions she had made! For the first time, she felt that her barbed tongue had led her into great error, and she began almost to see the sense of some of her mother’s complaints. Mrs Bennet had always bemoaned her daughter’s wit, claiming that no sensible gentleman would want a wife who fancied herself cleverer than he. Elizabeth could not help her cleverness; the words simply came to her in the moment. Her father had trained her to think, and her mind was quick and nimble. If only her tongue were less so!
She owed him an apology, she knew. She recalled his stiff response from the day before when she had challenged him with his failure to correct an error. It wasshewho had made the error, andhewho should have been granted the benefit of the doubt as an honourable man.Well, she resolved,I will do it, no matter the cost to my pride. She was still uncertain about the idea of marriage, but she felt fully convicted of her shameful treatment of him. He deserved at least to hear her apologize. After that, he was free to do as he chose.
Elizabeth went through the motions of her morning, doing her level best to tolerate her mother’s gleeful praise. Nothing she could do was wrong in her mother’s eyes today. She had supplanted Lydia as the favourite daughter and Jane as the most promising. The fickleness of her mother’s compliments annoyed her so greatly that in self-defence, she forced her thoughts in a happier direction. She withdrew to her father’s room and Mrs Cooper’s company to read aloud.
Charlotte Lucas paid Elizabeth a visit in mid-morning, sitting with her for a while as she read to her father. Elizabeth was grateful for her company, but she felt terribly awkward discussing her friend’s engagement. Elizabeth could not easily reconcile herself to the idea of her intelligent, sensible friend wed to the pompous fool that she found Mr Collins to be. Still, she would not wound Charlotte for anything and had recently good cause to regret hasty words. By tacit understanding, little was spoken of any engagements after the first acknowledgement of the news.
Mercifully, Mr Collins intended to take his leave this morning so he could return to Hunsford to make preparations for his wedding. Even now, the housemaid was preparing the room he had occupied for Aunt Gardiner’s arrival. Despite her misgivings about relating all the events of the past days, Elizabeth looked forward to her aunt’s visit with every expectation of pleasure and relief.
“Thepostisarrived,my lady,” the ageing butler snivelled, extending a small silver tray within his mistress’ obliging reach.
Anne de Bourgh’s eyes fluttered open at the intrusion. The remedies the doctor had been employing of late tended to make her very drowsy, and she had an unsettling habit of dropping off in the middle of meals. Mrs Jenkinson covered smoothly for her, bending her own lace-capped head near to block her mother’s view.
“You are late, Thompson!” the lady’s imperious tones scolded.
“Yes, my lady,” the butler bowed mildly, backing out of the room. It was pointless to protest his innocence, where the tardiness of the mail carrier was concerned. Safest, he had learned it was, to excuse himself quickly.
“Mrs Jenkinson, you put yourself too much forward. Anne must be able to see me.” The great lady’s eyes narrowed disapprovingly. Mrs Jenkinson fawned over Anne to the proper degree to please Her Ladyship but occasionally forgot her place. That was what came of taking on a reduced gentlewoman, she observed.
Anne’s pale face emerged from behind the laced cap. “Anne, you have not finished your soup. You must strive to improve your health! Little wonder Darcy has not formalized your engagement. Do not forget your duty, child!”
Anne was insensible to the exigency of a modest blush on her part in response to her mother’s exhortations. For better than the last ten of her seven and twenty years, she had heard the same diatribe against her health and her own apparent lack of willpower. Clearly, the great lady, who unfortunately must be counted as her mother, considered Anne’s indifferent state as a personal insult.
Lady Catherine frowningly surveyed the assortment of personages paying their respects via this day’s post. Lady Whitcombe, Lady Bramberg, Lady Trenton… all included the ladies’ burgeoning hopes of wishing Lady Catherine joy on her daughter’s upcoming nuptials. Also described by all were vague mentions of hosting a gala at some point, but never a declaration of specific dates or a forthright invitation. Spineless! Why, in her day, a lady acted with decision. The de Bourgh dowager would lend distinction to any such paltry gathering, should she deign to attend. She could not fathom why such fine ladies of thetonwould not simply pluck up and host their confounded events.
She had left the most satisfying letter for last. It always gratified her to read her parson’s eminently sensible observations. That, she congratulated herself, had been a providential appointment. William Collins possessed the proper degree of humility and deference and was not backward in paying his compliments.
Anne stirred her soup listlessly, lifting the spoon occasionally to watch the unappetizing liquid strain back into the bowl. A special healing recipe it was supposed to be. Anne thought it more akin to affliction than remedy. She drizzled the spoonful down over the saucer, wrinkling her nose in disgust. At least she was safe from her mother’s pointed observations as she did so—it was always obvious by the single-minded attention paid whenever her mother became engrossed in any correspondence from Collins.
She had just resolved to venture a single bite when an animal shriek split the room. Looking about instinctively for some poor scalded cat, her startled eyes, at last, found her mother. Lady Catherine rose shakily to her feet. Her heirloom dining chair flung backwards on the floor. Her face purpled, eyes flown wide in rage.
“Anne! We are leavinginstantlyfor Hertfordshire!”
MadelineGardinerarrivedatLongbourn at two in the afternoon. She braced herself as the carriage drew to a halt. She felt deep sympathy for her sister and nieces for their present distress, but it would take every drop of her reserves to cope with Mrs Bennet’s despair. She was grateful her new governess was already proving steady and reliable, so she needn’t bring her children. It was a comfort to know they were well situated at home in London so that she could focus all her energies on the Bennets’ present difficulties. She truly hoped that Mr Bennet had miraculously recovered since she had last had word from Jane.
The footman helped her out of the carriage and held an umbrella for her. She smiled her thanks and looked to the house. Instead of the tear-streaked girls she expected, Mrs Bennet herself bounded jubilantly out the front door. “Fanny! Is Mr Ben….”
“Oh, my dearest sister!” Mrs Bennet cut her off, waving her lace handkerchief. “We are saved! You will never guess, so I will tell you. Lizzy, my dearest, sweetest girl, is engaged to Mr Darcy! Is that not splendid! Oh, I shall go distracted. It has been such a thing for our girls! She will have so many fine carriages, and you know, she will be able to throw the other girls into the way of other rich men. Ten thousand a year, sister! Why, ‘tis as good as a lord! And you know, he has a house in Town, and that great estate in Derbyshire—Pemden or something like that.”
Mrs Gardiner’s eyebrows rose. “Pemberley?”
“Yes! Yes, that is it. Will she not be a great lady! I hear it is the finest estate in the entire country! My dearest, sweetest girl, Iknewshe could not be so clever for nothing! But come, come inside before you catch your death, and I will tell you everything!”
Feeling as though she had already been told almost everything, Mrs Gardiner followed, her eyes searching for her nieces. She was itching for a more sensible account of recent days’ events. She spotted Lizzy with a basin of some kind, surreptitiously sneaking by the opening in the top of the stairwell as she passed beneath. Elizabeth met her aunt’s questioning gaze with an awkward little smile and a small wave. She made a perfunctory gesture with her head toward her father’s room at the end of the hall and slunk away.
Mrs Gardiner’s curiosity was truly piqued. Elizabeth engaged and too embarrassed to tell her of it—too abashed, even, to greet her properly? That wasnotlike Lizzy, who was always frank with her. Moreover, the family’s letters had not breathed a word of any engagement besides Mrs Bennet’s designs on one Mr Bingley for Jane. This all must have come about since Mr Bennet’s accident.
She remembered Lizzy’s last letter, written only the week before. Elizabeth had mentioned meeting Mr Darcy but had not sounded very pleased with the acquaintance. Rather, she had written of a preference for a new recruit in the militia. Indeed, a great deal must have happened!
