“You are very, very good to go to her. She and Anne will be glad to see you.”
That, no doubt, was part of Lady Catherine’s haste in getting him there. Darcy half expected to discover he could resolve the ‘problem’ with a letter or two, but his aunt would seize any excuse to have him spend time with Anne. It was a futile effort; he would never marry his cousin. To be sure, there would be a genuine dilemma of some sort awaiting his attention. Lady Catherine was not deceitful or prone to playing tricks of this nature. Yet, she continued to hope he would decide to offer for Anne, despite his repeated insistence that he would not. He and his cousin simply did not enjoy each other’s company, and they never seemed to know what to say to each other. It had been that way since they were children, likely since the first day their mothers had mentioned they intended for the couple to unite.
He sighed and attempted to rally his strength for spending a week or two at Rosings Park.
CHAPTERFORTY-TWO
During the long drive to Kent, Darcy told himself he should write to Bingley to tell him that he would be in town sooner than originally planned, since he did not intend to make the journey back to Derbyshire immediately. It was difficult to find the energy to do it, however, and he delayed.
He arrived at Rosings Park late on Wednesday and was subject to his aunt’s rebukes for travelling after the sun had gone down.
“You know my sentiments on the matter, Darcy! It is not safe,” she cried.
“I was close to my destination and decided I would rather not delay seeing you by spending a night at an inn less than an hour away.”
His words did little to lessen the scowl on Lady Catherine’s face. Sitting beside her, his cousin smirked in what he assumed was pleasure to witness him being upbraided. With her poor health—and even poorer disposition—Anne de Bourgh had been largely confined to the country. Darcy’s other aunt, the countess, speculated that jealousy at the health and freedoms available to her cousins was behind her sour manner and often ill-tempered behaviour. Whatever it was, Darcy avoided speaking to her as much as possible. He used the fact that they hardly exchanged a dozen words a day when he was at Rosings as an illustration of why they would not suit as marriage partners. Lady Catherine sometimes agreed with him, saying she had no wish to see either her daughter or nephew miserable, but at others, she insisted they could be happy together, if only they committed to making the effort.
“I was concerned about what I would find when I arrived. Your letter was vague about the matter requiring my attention. I am glad to see it is not that either you or my cousin is ill.” Darcy watched as Lady Catherine fought to maintain a haughty, disapproving expression. Flattery worked on her far better than it should, and she appreciated knowing he had rushed to her side when she said she needed him. She would not like the fact that it was largely because he found having a purpose helped distract him from his unhappiness. In other circumstances, he might have taken the journey at a slower pace.
“That was good of you. Was it not, Anne?” Lady Catherine said.
Anne muttered something too low to make out.
“Well, you are here now, and nothing dreadful happened to you along the way. I suppose there is no purpose to dwelling on your mistakes.”
Darcy fought against the temptation to pinch the bridge of his nose; between the travel and conversation, he had a headache. “What is the difficulty that requires my assistance?”
“It is eight o’clock and far too late to discuss such things. It is not such an emergency that we need keep ourselves up all night going over the particulars.Youmay keep town hours, butwekeep country hours. Mrs Jenkinson, is it not time for my daughter to retire?” Mrs Jenkinson was his cousin’s companion, though to hear Lady Catherine’s orders to her, one would think she was a nursery maid.
Once the pair were gone, Lady Catherine spent half an hour demanding details of his time in Worcestershire and Georgiana’s progress with preparations to enter society, even though that would not occur for another two years or more. As much as he tried to direct the conversation to the reason for his visit, he was unsuccessful, and when he and his aunt said good night, he remained ignorant of what would consume his attention in the coming days. With luck, it would be enough to keep him from obsessing over Miss Elizabeth, wondering where she was and whether she was happy with the choice she had made.
* * *
Thursday was spent mostly in the company of Lady Catherine’s steward and solicitor. There were several matters for Darcy to see to, none of them terribly worrisome on their own, but difficulties with tenants and investments had coincidentally arisen at the same time, and he understood why his aunt was anxious enough about it to want his immediate assistance. If they were not settled properly, it would result in a substantial reduction in the lady’s income, to say nothing of causing yet more problems in the future. This included the loss of one or more previously trustworthy tenants, who were currently threatening to depart if Lady Catherine did not accede to certain of their wishes, some of which were reasonable and some of which were not. It would take effort to untangle it all, less if his aunt did not insist on intruding and giving her opinion on what needed to be done to correct the issues and the supposed incompetence, if not criminality, of everyone involved—apart from her and Darcy.
As vexing as it could be, the work kept him busy, and for that, Darcy was glad.
Friday was spent in the same way, but the evening brought with it a shock that left Darcy with a renewed desire to be gone from Rosings as quickly as possible. They were in the dining room, halfway through the meal, and as he chewed a piece of unfortunately stringy beef, Lady Catherine made an announcement.
“I have invited my new parson and his wife to dine with us tomorrow, in order for you to meet him. You would on Sunday, in any case, but this will be better than a hasty introduction after services. He is a good man, if a bit stupid.”
Silently, Darcy could not help responding,Which is why you like him. His lack of intelligence makes it easier to bend him to your will.The thought was unworthy of him—and of his aunt, who was fundamentally a good woman, despite her imperious manner. He took the uncharitable thought as a sign that he was far from recovered from the loss of Miss Elizabeth.
“The candidate I selected last summer, the one I wrote to you about in August and that you failed to comment upon, decided he did not wish to be situated so far from his family, if you can believe it.”
Darcy only vaguely recalled Lady Catherine’s letters expounding upon her search for someone to fill the vacancy. It had taken place at the same time he had been most worried about Georgiana.
“I found another man. His wife is young, but, if she follows my guidance—as I expect she will—I suppose shemightbecome an estimable woman and a creditable wife to a man in his position and mother to their children. I am not sure he chose wisely. She is pretty and polite enough, I grant you, but only just. She has a thing or two to learn about giving proper deference to her betters,” Lady Catherine said.
Darcy knew his aunt meant the lady did not let her have her way in everything. He did not recall what had happened to the last parson, but the couple could not have been there more than two or three months. Yet Lady Catherine had probably already told her to rearrange every piece of furniture in her house, instructed her on her meal choices, and attempted to correct her manner of speaking to her husband, servants, and the parishioners.
The poor woman. I hope she is strong enough to stand up to my aunt.
“His name is Mr Collins.”
Darcy’s ears pricked up, and he regarded his aunt, his fork hanging midway between plate and mouth. “Oh? W-where is he from?”
“His family is in Hertfordshire, though he has other relations somewhere to the west. I cannot recall exactly what county. He lived with a cousin, whose estate is entailed on him. The silly man was unwise enough to only have daughters. It is truly unconscionable for someone whose estate is entailed. You know what I think of such arrangements, but if you have an entailed estate, you had best sire sons. The situation has been put to rights, as much as can be done in such a case. Mr Collins married one of his cousins.”
