Lady Catherine seemed well pleased by the attentions, which, of course, surprised Caroline, not at all. Occasionally she caught fleeting glimpses of boredom from Anne de Bourgh, but she could not be certain if the expression were born out of ill health or actual displeasure. Most of the time, Mrs Jenkinson acted to block the view of the heiress’ face from the rest of the room.
Lady Catherine had grilled poor Charlotte Lucas mercilessly, extracting every detail the young woman could tell about the Bennet family, Mr Darcy, Mr Bingley, and Miss Darcy. Miss Lucas was no fool and had been clearly reluctant to divulge what she knew, but the authority of her father and the pleasure of her betrothed compelled her to hold nothing back. Once or twice, Caroline was treated to a baleful glance from the plain young woman, but she quickly averted her eyes each time.
Lady Catherine certainly had the right of it when she insisted that Darcy could not marry Eliza Bennet, but her methods and her casual dismissal of all before her galled Caroline. Prideful in her own right, she detested being made to feel less consequential in the eyes of her prior acquaintances. The only good to come of Lady Catherine’s autocratic coup of Lucas Lodge was that its occupants were far too intimidated to ask why she, sister of a local resident, would be quartered at their home instead of her brother’s. Soon, she comforted herself, all would be put to rights.
“Collins!” the lady summoned.
Caroline watched as the parson, that witless fop, demeaned himself before his patroness. “Yes, your ladyship! I am in constant attendance! I beg your ladyship to-”
“You will draft a letter for me. We shall retire to the study, Lucas, and I require privacy while we carry out our task. I shall also require pen and ink. Your means are clearly modest, but I trust you keep a good supply of such items?”
“Oh! Yes, your ladyship!” Sir William trailed behind his future son-in-law as the lady showed herself to the room she desired.
Charlotte Lucas had begun to edge closer to the exit when the lady turned back. “Miss Lucas! I shall desire you to remain. Lucas, do you require your daughter to return to her room and consider carefully in what manner the future mistress of Hunsford parsonage ought to comport herself.”
Charlotte Lucas took a deep breath, lacing her hands and dropping her gaze demurely before the lady and her future husband. After the pair had passed on, her features hardened, and she fired a glare at Caroline, which could have scorched the frozen landscape outside.
Chapter 29
ElizabethandJanereclinedcomfortably by the fire in the drawing-room, having been shooed out of their father’s room by well-meaning Mrs Cooper. “Young ladies cannot spend all their energies in a sick-room! You both have other claims upon your attention,” she had insisted with a twinkle in her eye.
Elizabeth gave every appearance of poring over a book, but her mind wandered. She slid the tip of her finger under the next page, but it hovered so for a long time. Her imagination tended to dwell instead on a tall gentleman with a sonorous voice and the most unforgettable dimple she had ever seen.
Her eyes drifted from the print to the gold band on her finger. It was a little too large for her, and the heavy jewel insisted upon spinning downward toward her palm. She had not objected, as it made the ring less noticeable for the time, and she did not care to hear more of her mother’s triumphing over her new status. Now she flipped the ring over and admired the sparkling facets, her memory turning pleasantly back to the hopeful man who had offered it.
How secure and at home she had felt with him that morning! Rosy blushes came and went from her cheeks when she thought of his gentle touch and his tender kisses. His open vulnerability enchanted her. He so obviously aspired to her pleasure and approval, and she was helpless to withhold it. How could such an arrogant man have altered so abruptly? Of course, she knew the truth now. He never was arrogant. Her lips curved in innocent pleasure, reflecting upon the noble, kind heart she had discovered beneath his carefully polished exterior. She was very much going to relish peering into his private character further, and most assuredly planned to encourage more of his recent lapses in protocol.
“And just what are you girls doing?” Mrs Gardiner, fresh from a short walk with her husband, smiled at her favourite nieces as she joined them. She took a seat opposite Jane.
“I am trying to finish this point lace, and Lizzy is daydreaming about Mr Darcy.” Jane peeked slyly at her sister, waiting for the mortified glance which would admit her sister’s guilt. She would be disappointed.
Elizabeth perked up to return the volley. “Yes, I was just reflecting upon how agreeable it is to find oneself engaged to a handsome man of pleasing manners. He is wealthy as well, which a young man ought to be if he can possibly help it, but most importantly, I find his person and address quite amiable.”
“And he appears to be possessed of good judgement,” winked Mrs Gardiner. “Altogether a fine catch, I daresay!”
Elizabeth chuckled lightly, then glanced over her shoulder out the window when she heard some sound. “Ah, I see Mama and the others have returned.” She gave up trying to read her book and set it aside.
“Oh, my dears!” Mrs Bennet gushed as she re-entered the house. “It is all the talk! I never saw anything like it. Everyone is quite set against that dreadful Mr Wickham! Why, they say he has run off with Miss King, and her uncle still away! Did I not tell you, my loves, to be careful of a man who seems too amiable? What a foolish girl! Why, I am sure she had no great beauty. He can only have been after her ten thousand pounds!”
Elizabeth wilted in horror. Poor Mary King! Darcy had been hopeful that she could be found before talk escalated, but he had apparently underestimated the vigour and imagination of a town full of frivolous housewives with nothing better to do. Still, she was proud of him for trying to help a girl who could claim no connection to himself. He was good... and he was hers!
“Oh, Mama!” Jane interjected. “Pray, do not continue so! We do not know what may have happened.”
“Oh, yes, yes, we do!” Mrs Bennet cried with energy, darting a significant glance at the other married lady in the room. Mrs Gardiner hid her eyes in shame for the poor Miss King.
Kitty and Lydia had retired upstairs to carry on their own prattle uninterrupted. Mary plopped herself near Elizabeth, sharing a woeful glance with her next older sister. As Mrs Bennet continued her scandalized description of the town’s chatter, Elizabeth leaned near to Mary. “Georgiana?” she whispered.
Mary answered with a firm, satisfied expression. “Not even mentioned. Everyone is talking about how evil Mr Wickham is and how they all want to invite Colonel Fitzwilliam to dine. I daresay his evenings will be full while he remains in town.”
Elizabeth closed her eyes and drew a long sigh. “At least there is that.” Pity for Mary King stole the rest of her speech. Of course, the girl ought to have known better than to run off with that man! Now, however, Elizabeth understood how easily a sheltered, innocent young gentlewoman could be deceived. Naivety was absolutely required of a young lady, rendering her utterly vulnerable to such an artful deceiver as Wickham. Her heart broke for the girl’s future. There would be little Darcy could do for her now, even if he could find her. Once a young lady’s ruin had been pronounced, it was nearly set in stone.
Elizabeth’s eyes were still down, but Mary stiffened beside her, drawing her attention back. She looked up and followed her sister’s gaze to the window. Her brow furrowed.
“Why, it’s Mr Bingley’s carriage!” Jane exclaimed. “But he was already here this morning….” Her tones mixed with confusion and pleasure, Jane rose to greet her betrothed.
It was not, however, Mr Bingley who dismounted the coach. The ladies watched in stunned fascination as first Mr Collins, then Miss Bingley descended from the box. At last, a stern-faced personage of great perceived importance stepped majestically down, making the humble yard of Longbourn shrink by her august presence.
“Who can that be?” wondered Mrs Bennet aloud. Propriety soon took hold, as it became apparent that their guests would naturally expect to be received. A flurry of activity ensued; books, bonnets, scraps of fabric and lace were snatched and stuffed out of sight in drawers, behind cupboards, and under cushions. In less than a minute, two decorous matrons and three proper maidens sat poised upon bulging cushions as they waited to receive their guests.
