Chapter Eleven
The next several days proceeded in much the same manner. Lady Catherine continued to try to force Mr. Darcy to spend time with Anne, and each day saw Mr. Darcy and the Colonel coming to tea and spending the better part of an hour in lively conversation with Elizabeth at the parsonage.
After Mr. Darcy and the Colonel had – again! – come to tea and had – again! – left the parsonage upon hearing that the master of the house was soon expected, Mr. Collins entered the house, wild-eyed.
“Mrs. Collins, Lady Catherine has informed me that Mr. Darcy has refused to propose to her daughter, and it is all the fault of Cousin Elizabeth!”
Elizabeth spoke from the parlour door. “I beg your pardon, Mr. Collins, I was coming to speak with Charlotte and could not help but overhear you.”
Mr. Collins swung around to face his fair cousin. “Cousin Elizabeth, Lady Catherine has asked that you make arrangements to leave Hunsford as soon as may be.”
Elizabeth stared at him, shocked. “But I have done nothing wrong!”
“It does not matter. You must write to your father and have him send a carriage for you as soon as may be.”
“Very well, Mr. Collins.” Elizabeth turned away from him and ran upstairs, ignoring Charlotte calling after her. Elizabeth could see that nothing she could say would change the situation. Her holiday had turned sour, and there was nothing to do but to go home. She would send a message to Papa immediately, requesting that the carriage be sent for her.
***
Mr. Darcy reflected on his situation as he and the Colonel returned to Rosings. He had spent over a week trying to placate Aunt Catherine by spending time with Anne. Unfortunately, the more he saw of Anne, the more he was certain that she could never be the mistress of Pemberley. This decision would injure his mother, and knowing that grieved him deeply.
He knew that his obsession – and yes, his feelings deserved that word! – with Miss Bennet was not helping matters. Or perhaps itwashelping matters, for Miss Bennet was Anne’s direct opposite in every way. Where Anne was sullen, Miss Bennet was sunny. Where Anne was dull, Miss Bennet was witty. Where Anne was weak, Miss Bennet was strong. Miss Bennet seemed to him to be a perfect wife for himself and a perfect mistress for Pemberley.
But would his obsession stand the test of time? If he had met her in Meryton, visiting Bingley as he had intended, would he have been interested in her? If he had met her in London, where she would be compared with the glittering ladies of theton, would he still have found her irresistible? Was she only special in comparison with Anne de Bourgh? He could not know, and until he was certain, he could not advance their relationship.
Perhaps he should return to London and wait; once she was back in Meryton, he could see her there while visiting Bingley. Nowthatwas a promising notion!
“Tomorrow we leave for London, Richard,” he told his cousin. “I have given Aunt Catherine the time she asked for, but it is enough.”
“I agree; but what of Miss Bennet?”
“I will wait at Darcy House until she returns to Meryton.”
“Ah, and then visit Bingley. Excellent notion.”
“Will you accompany me?”
“To London, yes, but no further. I am bound to return to my regiment and would prefer to spend some time with my parents before doing so.”
“I will be sorry to lose your company.”
“And I yours, but there it is.”
“Let us go downstairs and inform Lady Catherine of our decision,” Mr. Darcy said. As they entered the house, Mr. Darcy heard a familiar voice. He froze.
“Darcy? What is wrong?” the Colonel asked.
“My mother is here, doubtless at our aunt’s request. And doubtless that is why Aunt Catherine cajoled me to spend more time here, knowing it would take several days for my mother to arrive.” Mr. Darcy’s tone was icy.
Richard swore under his breath. “Darcy, you cannot give in to your mother. Your entire happiness depends upon it.”
“I know it now. I did not before we came here, but now I am certain that you are correct.” Jaw tight, face grim, Mr. Darcy walked into the drawing room, with Richard right behind him. “Hello, Mother.” His voice was cold as he looked at his parent, perfectly coiffed and dressed in the latest London fashion, with one of the many Darcy family necklaces fastened about her slim throat.
“Hello, Fitzwilliam,” Lady Anne said. “Heavens, what a face to show to your mother, who has traveled many long hours to be here with you!”
“And why, I wonder, has my mother traveled these many long hours?” Mr. Darcy asked, frostily.
“Why, to see you and my sister, of course. And my nephew! Come, Richard, give your Aunt Anne a kiss.”
