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Lady Catherine was a woman of almost overpowering presence, wearing a carriage dress of gros de Naples in a greenish colour not found in nature; the maid who sat beside her nearly disappeared in comparison. There was no such thing as a conversation, only interrogation, and it was a very good thing, Lizzy supposed, that she was accustomed to swallowing her own pride, because the great lady had no difficulty in expressing the most impertinent of opinions.
“You are a relation of Mr Collins,” she pronounced upon meeting Lizzy for the first time practically at the carriage door—a different carriage than the ornate one her ladyship had arrived in. Lizzy recognised it from Hertfordshire; it was Mr Darcy’s brougham, she was certain.
“Yes, my lady,” Lizzy replied, once installed beside Georgiana in the seat facing opposite Lady Catherine. “My family recently had the privilege of hosting him at Longbourn.” She prayed Collins had not revealed every detail of his recent stay.
“Your father’s estate is entailed upon him, as I recall. I see no occasion for entailing estates from the female line. It was not thought necessary in Sir Lewis de Bourgh’s family. How many sisters do you have? Collins took a wife elsewhere, although there are a great many of you, I believe.”
“There are five of us, ma’am.”
“One of you ought to have been clever enough to snatch him up. A pity.”
Georgiana visibly cringed and plainly sought to change the subject. “It was certainly a happy surprise to see you in Ramsgate, my lady.”
“You ought not to have been surprised. You wrote that I was needed. You should have known I would come.”
“Oh-oh, of course, Aunt. It is only that Lady Matlock was so certain that Fitzwilliam—”
“I am almost the nearest relation your brother has in the world, not my brother’s wife,” she interrupted. “I am entitled to take charge of all his dearest concerns. I came here with the determined resolution of carrying my purpose. Nor would I be dissuaded from it by the earl’s sorry excuse for a physician—I have not been used to submitting to any person’s whims, least of all Mr Younge’s. Such an unsatisfactory person!”
Lady Catherine kept up a running commentary on multiple topics: the many talents her daughter possessed—or would have possessed had her health permitted—as well as the successes of her manifold interventions in the lives of her neighbours, all intermingled with officious, meddlesome questions regarding Lizzy’s upbringing, parents, relations, and marital prospects. Georgiana’s tentative attempts to turn the conversation—and to discover any details about her brother’s journey—were either ignored or given unsatisfactory replies.
They kept a good pace, but as they pulled into an inn at dusk, Lady Catherine announced that they would stop for the night.
“We will be on our way early, so do not dawdle. I mean to reach our destination speedily.”
The inn was a fine one, and Lady Catherine was given all the attention she required. Even better, Lizzy and Georgiana were given a room to themselves, and for the first time that day, they were able to speak unhindered by Lady Catherine’s formidable presence.
“I am so sorry!” Georgiana apologised the moment they were alone. “I wished so desperately you could come, but of course, you could not have known beforehand how awful she is. I knew I would have to leave with her—there is never any use in arguing, and besides, she has my brother.”
“I was very happy to accept your invitation,” Lizzy replied, “however unconventional its delivery.”
Georgiana, in her distress, hardly seemed to hear. “I apologise for her intrusive questions. I daresay it was why she allowed me to have you—she is dreadfully interfering and curious, besides liking another excuse to leave Mrs Younge behind.”
“It is amazing that she could even care to hear such inconsequential stuff. Her vicar is the man who asked for my hand, received my refusal, and prompted my parents’ anger. Thankfully, he must not have revealed to her of his botched proposal.”
“No! Truly?” Georgiana cried, surprised.
“Truly. But you must tell me—what of Mrs Younge? Does she mean to follow you, do you think?”
“Oh, I hope not, but she was very sly. She does not dare question my aunt’s orders and demands, only saying things like ‘Of course Miss Darcy knows how to behave herself’ whilst giving me that hard look of hers. I understood her threat—‘say nothing or else’.”
“Hmm. It would take a bold person indeed to present oneself, uninvited, at your aunt’s estate. Of course, I suppose we can expect that she and the doctor will both be sending expresses to Lord and Lady Matlock. But thankfully, it will be Lady Catherine who must deal with them henceforth. She certainly seems fearsome enough to go up against anyone in the realm, even the king.”
“Yes,” Georgiana agreed. But she appeared troubled, even so. “My aunt is not usually so helpful. Or rather, she imagines she is, but instead is awfully meddlesome. She cares most about the inconsequential doings of her neighbours whilst refusing to let my brother enact changes that are much needed at Rosings. He is usually so very frustrated with her.”
But Lizzy could not worry about the modernisation of estate practises. Mr Darcy was free of the Younges, and she was free of Harriet’s whims. As she settled into the comfortable inn bed for the night, she could only think that this had been, in all, the nicest birthday she had ever had.
* * *
‘Early’, Lizzy learnt, had a different meaning to Lady Catherine than her own definition. It was after the ten o’clock hour before she appeared in their private dining parlour and nearly eleven before they were on the road once more. Daylight was fading long before they finally reached the outskirts of London. Wheeled conveyances of every type clogged the roads, and people of every description drove, pushed, or walked beside them.
The noise is incredible!she thought. She was not quite certain how one accustomed themselves to it all: vendors hawking wares, drivers shouting and cursing, pedestrians calling, dogs barking—the endless din of a million bodies in such close proximity. Finally, however, they turned onto quieter streets—and the quieter the street, the more impressive the homes upon it.
Georgiana, who had mostly ceased trying to make conversation with her difficult aunt, continually peered out the window and finally ventured to ask her plans. “Excuse me, ma’am…but do we stop at Darcy House tonight?”
“Of course. Tonight, tomorrow, and thereafter. I will, naturally, oversee Darcy’s recuperation from London.”
“Oh, of course. It is only…I thought I heard…did not you say we would go to Rosings?”
