As it happened, Lady Catherine insisted that Graham accompany Fitzwilliam and Lady Rebecca. Thus, she and I removed to the drawing-room. We took seats, and I sipped on tea.
“You must feel exceedingly proud of yourself.” Disdain coloured her statement.
What a wretched beginning! I blinked at her. “Why do you presume me to be proud?”
Her ladyship’s tea cup landed on the saucer with a clang. “Do not be coy with me! You cannot be ignorant of my meaning. In a shocking show of cunning and deceitfulness you took advantage of my extraordinary condescension and stole my daughter’s intended out from under my nose!”
My lips pursed. Not this again. She referred to April of 1812, when I stayed with Charlotte and Mr. Collins in Kent. Lady Catherine had granted Mr. Collins the living at Hunsford Parsonage. No engagement ever existed between my husbandand his cousin Anne. “Despite what you may think, I had no design whatsoever for Fitzwilliam back then. At that time, I did not even like him.”
“You did not like him?” She spat the words. “What a nonsensical statement. How could you dislike a responsible, handsome, and respected man of fortune capable of elevating you from your plebeian origin and ensuring the comfort and well-being of your pitiful family? In your place, even the most obtuse of young ladies would have found something to like in Darcy. I can think of many repugnant words to describe you, but ‘obtuse’ is not one of them.”
I stifled a sigh. “Obtuse” could well describe my stubborn adherence to faulty opinions about Fitzwilliam back then; I had discounted any new information in opposition to my views and refused to budge from my mistaken beliefs until Fitzwilliam had resorted to providing me a frank letter that revealed private information. “Did you not notice that on my visits to Rosings, I gave Cousin Richard far more attention than I ever gave Fitzwilliam?”
“Yes, I noticed the abominable mode in which you used my other nephew for your own purposes. If Richard had a fortune of his own, he may have been your object instead of a pawn in your elaborate plan of seduction. Your scheme to make Darcy jealous served you well, for he fell right into your trap.”
Good gracious,she had a fertile imagination! “I had no plan of any sort. At the time, I believed Fitzwilliam disapproved of me. I liked Richard and enjoyed his company, but I did not aspire to wed either of them.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Do not take me for a fool! I know the depths of your perfidy. The maid at the parsonage informed me of the instances when you met with Darcy alone. You dare not deny that.”
Fie!Lady Catherine appeared to view those instances as assignations. “On a couple of occasions, Fitzwilliam called when the others were away, but not by design.” At least not bymydesign; no doubt when Fitzwilliam had sought me out to make his ill-advised proposal, he had expected to find me alone.
“That is not all I know.” Her speech increased in vigour. “My grooms spotted you and Darcy walking out alone together on no less than three occasions. Do not try my patience by telling me you came upon him by happenstance.” Her clenched hands, taut jaw, and deep carmine complexion exemplified her firm conviction and depth of feeling. In all likelihood, nothing I could say would convince Lady Catherine to abandon her firm beliefs.
What if I tried a penitent approach? I took several moments to gather my thoughts. “As I reflect upon my conduct at Hunsford, I concede to a few instances when I did not behave as I ought to have done.” I drew my lower lip between my teeth.My biggest regret is the abominable way I treated Fitzwilliam following his proposal, but you would not be pleased to hear that.“Rather than delve into my tangled courtship with your nephew, I shall convey my sincere regret for any disappointment our marriage caused you and Cousin Anne. Nevertheless, I cannot be sorry for wedding him. Your nephew and I love each other, and we are happy together.”
She stared at me, her features warping into a depiction of enmity. “Your regret, even if I accepted it as genuine, would do nothing to assuage the devastation my Anne felt when she learned Darcy had forsaken her. My daughter became depressed and inconsolable. As the weeks passed, anger consumed her.”
Lady Catherine’s clasped hands twisted in her lap. “For many years, Anne lived with the expectation that she would marry Darcy. I had told her this from the time she was a child. My sister and I spoke of their future union often, and it was her favourite wish. When Darcy grew to be an honourable and responsibleadult, I knew he would be the perfect husband for my daughter—until you came along and blithely ruined our plans. You made him forget everything he owed to his family.”
The wrathful turn of Lady Catherine’s visage sent a shiver down my spine. How could another person feel such animosity towards me? It seemed our period of estrangement had done nothing to reduce the lady’s fury. Did I own a portion of the blame for this situation? Should I have pressed harder to urge my husband to reconcile with his aunt before now? “I am grieved to hear of Anne’s disappointment. I never meant to hurt anyone.”
“If you speak the truth, it is proof of how dangerous you are. How much damage would you have done if that had been your ambition?”
“You cannot be certain Fitzwilliam would have married Anne if he had never met me. If he had had any intention of marrying her, why did he not make the engagement official?”
“If not for you, I have no doubt he would have done so. If he had been decided against the marriage, he could have declared this on one of his visits to Rosings. He never told me he would not marry her, and he could not have doubted my expectation.”
A suffocating sensation of weight settled over me, and I sank lower in my chair. If she could be taken at her word, why had Fitzwilliam not made his intentions explicit? In his place, I should have protested the concept to eliminate the possibility of any misunderstandings. Had he expected to marry Anne at one time? If so, that would explain why he had never denied his aunt’s designs for them. An image came to me of Anne with her eyes red and her cheeks streaked with tears. “Pray, how does your daughter fare now?”
Lady Catherine glowered at me. “She still blames me for having led her to believe Darcy would be her husband. Yet how could I know you would come along and steal him away?”
My upper body swayed back and forth. It had never occurred to me that Fitzwilliam’s timid, infirm cousin might still be suffering almost three years after our wedding. Had Anne been in love with him—or worse, did she love him still? My gaze lowered to avoid Lady Catherine’s disdainful glare. “I wish you had brought Anne with you. Given the opportunity, perhaps she and I could become friends.”
“Are you mad?” The question sputtered from her. “Do you think Anne could have any desire to see you married to the man who ought to have been her husband?”
I gripped the arms of my chair with sufficient force to make my fingers ache. “If you have no wish to reconcile with me, then why did you come?”
Her cold, menacing eyes pierced through me. “I had hoped upon my arrival to see that Darcy had learned to regret his marriage, but he has not yet acknowledged his mistake. He is still blinded by your charms. You provided him with an heir, which worked well in your favour. For the moment, you retain his good opinion, but not for long. I brought Lady Rebecca here to show him the kind of lady he could have chosen. She is similar to you in appearance but far above you in every respect. Before our stay is over, Darcy will be convinced to rue his choice of wife.”
My breath caught in my throat.This is lunacy!“Why would you do this? What could you hope to achieve? Fitzwilliam and I are married and have built a life together. We have a child.”
“Since I cannot undo your union, my hope is to cause you the greatest discomfort, embarrassment, and pain in my power. To witness your husband’s seduction by a woman in your own home should have the effect I desire.”
My stomach muscles writhed. “I have never heard of anything so wicked!” Despite everything, my stubbornness set in. I pressed taller, unwilling to reveal my distress to Lady Catherine.
“I want you to feel a small fraction of the pain my daughter has felt over the past few years.”
How could my husband’s aunt harbour so much antipathy towards me? This went beyond all reason! A twinge of dizziness beset me, and I pressed a hand to my abdomen, willing the affliction to pass.
