“I have had similar reports from Derbyshire, though the flooding there has not been quite as severe.”
“Well, I do not know why anyone should have a bad harvest. We do not foresee anything of the kind here at Rosings,” Lady Catherine said.
“On the contrary, ma’am,” I said. “Your yields are looking to be halved if the rains do not clear quickly.”
“Halved? That is impossible,” she declared. “I have heard no such reports. You are much mistaken, Darcy.”
I certainly know how to allow my aunt her comfortable delusions, and I should have disengaged then and there. I had done so many, many times. But I suppose I was too irritable, my temper still too abraded, and most unwisely, I chose to contradict her.
“You have heard no such reports because you refuse to listen to them, ma’am. You demand your steward tell you only what you wish to be told, and I have yet to hear you ask a proper question of the man.”
In reply, she roared at the footman at the door. “Send Fenwick to me! We shall hear the state of my farms this instant!”
“No, you will not,” I said. “He might attempt to tell you truthfully the condition of your farms but couched in such conciliating language as must please you, and you will—as I already said—hear only what you wish to hear.”
“What insolence is this? Apologise this instant!”
“I cannot regret instructing you as to the facts. Your fields are in no better state than mine or Mr Bennet’s or any other landholder. Your servants and your dependents cannot inform you properly, and they endure such treatment as must make all your relations ashamed?—”
“Sit down!” She barked at Mr Collins and his party, who had all stood up with the intention to leave us to row in privacy.
It was then my turn to roar.
“Do you not hear how you address your dependents?” I had come forcefully to my feet and faced her. “You are speaking to the recipient of your benefice, not your slave, and he must submit to such humiliation because his livelihood depends upon your every whim. You forget yourself!”
She gasped. “Forget myself!” And then, “Sit down!” she bellowed, this time directly at Elizabeth Bennet who, having had enough, stood to leave with or without Mr Collins.
This was too much, and I also began to bellow. “You are embarrassing our guests and mortifying me. Do you also forget you are addressing a gentleman’s daughter?”
“A gentleman’s daughter?” she scoffed. “And who is this Mr Bennet? His estate is merely?—”
“He is my equal. His daughter is my sister’s equal—Anne’s equal!” Then, speaking with cold and deliberate clarity, I said, “Say your farewell respectfully to this lady, or you will never again see me in this house.”
“How dare you! She is notmydaughter’s equal, and you cannot cut me. You are to marry Anne!”
“No, madam. I have told you more than once I cannot do as you say.” I bowed stiffly and spoke with angry certainty. “I take my leave of you, and in doing so, all talk of my marriage to Anne must end.”
I then turned to the blur that was the shocked faces of our company and bowed again. “I beg your pardon for subjecting you to such a scene. Were it in my power to do so convincingly, I would apologise on behalf of my aunt as well. Might I see you out?”
I firmly shut the door on Lady Catherine’s roars of indignation and asked for my carriage to be brought round immediately to take our guests home. After this burst of industry there was nothing left to do save wait in the hall with Mr Collins and his party. Needless to say, we stood there—shocked, silent, and awkward.
It would have been polite of me to leave but I could not move. Everyone stared at the floor, or the walls, or indeterminate points in space. Only once did Elizabeth Bennet steal a glance at me with wide eyes. Her face had been a picture of alarm. Was shehorrified? Appalled? Her expression was unreadable. I fear mine was not. I was furious.
At last, the carriage came, and upon ushering them out the door I bowed and said to no one in particular, “Forgive me. You should not have been party to that disagreement.” I then spoke more purposefully to Mr Collins. “Do not despair, sir.Youhave done nothing to anger Lady Catherine.”
Two footmen then stepped forwards with umbrellas and sheltered the ladies to the coach, and I again stood on those same steps and watched a carriage disappear into the rain.
CHAPTER 9
The house became breathlessly still. The incident would have been broadcast in under a minute from the cellar to the attic. Stiff-backed and still smouldering, I took the stairs back to my room where Carsten stood waiting for me.
“We leave in the morning directly after the post has come,” I said. “And tell Keller I am aware of the state of the roads. We need not make London if it comes to that. I ask only for what miles can be gained to be also put behind us.”
By this time, I was speaking with dreadful calm, and no one who knew me for any length of time could mistake that I was in a dangerous state. Carsten attended me in silence as I continued. “Send the housekeeper to me.”
I then sat at a table with the inkstand and penned several letters.
Fitzwilliam,
