Chapter 12

F our days later, as the sun began to reach its full brilliance, a rider arrived at Longbourn, bearing a letter addressed to Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Mrs. Bennet, her hopes high for romantic progression, intercepted the missive with a gleam of eager anticipation in her eye.

"A letter for you, Lizzy!" she exclaimed, handing it to her daughter with a knowing smile. "From Mr. Darcy, no less. How romantic! A letter before breakfast!"

Elizabeth accepted the letter with a blend of slight reluctance and curiosity. Why should Mr. Darcy feel the need to write to her? What could his letter possibly contain? These questions swirled in her mind as she offered her mother a polite smile, then quietly withdrew to the privacy of her own bedchamber. Jane, her face marked by gentle concern, followed close behind.

Once inside, Elizabeth broke the seal and began to read, her eyes scanning the familiar, precise handwriting:

My dear Miss Bennet,

I trust that this letter finds you in better spirits and that your leg has healed fully. It is with a heavy heart that I write to you, for I have come to realize that in all that has transpired, I have yet to offer you a true apology for the hurt I have caused.

My behaviour at the assembly was inexcusable. I allowed myself to be governed by emotions that I scarcely understood at the time. My words were harsh and unworthy of you, and I can only attribute them to the confusion and turmoil that seized me in that moment. I have never been comfortable in crowded assemblies, and the falsehoods being spread about me—particularly the rumour that I had come to Longbourn with the intention of proposing—served only to heighten my agitation. I know now that these are poor excuses for the way I spoke to you, and I am sincerely sorry.

Moreover, I deeply regret that my intended subsequent actions have placed you in a situation where your honour is in question. This was never my intention, and I am burdened with the knowledge that our engagement is now a matter of necessity rather than choice. Please believe me when I say that I did not intend to compromise you in any way.

I ask only that you might find it within yourself to forgive me, and that in doing so, you might look beyond any prejudice and see me for the man I truly am. I do not seek to excuse my actions but rather to express my genuine remorse for the distress they have caused you.

I also wish to inform you that Sir. William Lucas has kindly offered to write to the Archbishop of London to expedite the issuance of a special license for our marriage. It is my hope that, once the wedding takes place, it will put an end to the rumours that have begun to circulate in Meryton.

Yours sincerely,

Fitzwilliam Darcy

Elizabeth read the letter twice, her feelings a tumultuous mixture of confusion, indignation, and a faint stirring of something she could not quite name. Darcy's words were far from what she had expected, and though they did little to erase her resentment, they added a layer of complexity to her thoughts. While she was surprised that he had chosen to write at all, Elizabeth could not help but feel that his letter was more a product of duty than of genuine remorse. After all, that seemed precisely the sort of man Mr. Darcy was. If he were genuine, why hadn't he sent the letter earlier or even visited since his last appearance? "Lizzy, what does it say?" Jane asked softly, her concern for her sister evident in every word.

Elizabeth handed her the letter, allowing Jane to read it for herself. When Jane finished, she looked up with an expression of sympathy mixed with hope.

"He seems truly sorry, Lizzy. Perhaps he is not as proud as we thought."

Elizabeth sighed, taking back the letter and folding it carefully. "I am not certain what to think, Jane. He offers his apologies, and yet..."

"And yet?" Jane prompted gently.

"And yet, I cannot help but wonder if his regret is genuine or merely a matter of duty. He speaks of protecting my honour, of doing what is right, but what of his earlier insults? Can I trust that his remorse is as sincere as he claims?"

Jane placed a comforting hand on Elizabeth's arm. "Perhaps time will reveal his true character, Lizzy. But I believe he is trying to make amends. That must count for something."

Elizabeth nodded, though her heart was not entirely convinced. She wished to confide in Jane about Mr. Wickham's tales of Mr. Darcy, but her father's words urging her to reconsider Mr. Wickham's motives held her back. Instead, she said, "He mentions that Sir. William has written to the Archbishop for a special license. It seems the marriage is to happen soon."

Jane's eyes widened slightly. "So soon, Lizzy? But surely, you must have some reservations? Do you truly wish to proceed with this?" Though Jane's gentle voice carried the inquiry, her eyes betrayed her understanding that Elizabeth was bound by duty and had little choice in the matter.

"I must," Elizabeth replied, her voice steady but tinged with resignation. "For the sake of our family, and to preserve what little honour remains to me. There is no other choice."

While they spoke, a knock sounded at the door. Mrs. Bennet entered, her expression one of eager excitement.

"Lizzy, my dear, you have a visitor. Lady Catherine de Bourgh has come to call! She seems to have travelled all nights as she heard the news. No doubt, she is here to see the lady that has captured her nephew."

Lady Catherine de Bourgh? Elizabeth's heart sank. She exchanged a troubled glance with Jane, neither of their expressions offering much reassurance. Elizabeth could only surmise what this visit might portend, and Mr. Collins' earlier descriptions of Lady Catherine did little to inspire confidence. How could she have learned of the arrangement so quickly? Surely, Mr. Darcy had not written to her. Elizabeth doubted it, for not once had he mentioned his aunt in all the times she had heard him speak, unlike Mr. Collins, who exalted her at every possible opportunity.

"Very well, Mama. I shall go down at once."

As they descended the stairs, Elizabeth could not suppress the sense of foreboding that settled over her. Lady Catherine de Bourgh was waiting in the drawing room, her imposing figure draped in rich fabrics that confirmed her wealth and status. She wore an elaborate gown of deep burgundy silk, adorned with intricate embroidery and pearls. Her sharp eyes, framed by a face that bore the marks of both age and authority, surveyed the room with a haughty air.

Mr. Collins hovered nearby, practically bowing at every word that fell from Lady Catherine's lips. When Elizabeth entered, he immediately scurried forward, his voice a mixture of obsequiousness and self-importance.

"Ah, Cousin Elizabeth, Lady Catherine has most graciously come to offer her counsel. I had written to inform her of the situation and sent the letter by express four days ago, and she has taken it upon herself to address the matter with all due urgency."

Lady Catherine's lips pursed in disapproval as she looked down at Elizabeth, her raised eyebrows and narrowed eyes revealing a blend of disdain and imperiousness. "So, you are Miss Elizabeth Bennet. I must say, I had expected someone of a more... refined appearance."

Elizabeth, striving to maintain her composure, offered a respectful curtsy. "Lady Catherine, I am honoured by your visit."

"Indeed," Lady Catherine replied, her tone dripping with disdain. "I have come to speak with you about this... engagement to my nephew. I am told that you have somehow contrived to ensnare him into a marriage that is entirely unsuitable."

Elizabeth felt her shoulders stiffen and her jaw tighten at the unjust accusation, but before she could muster a reply, Mrs. Bennet, who was lingering anxiously nearby, stepped forward with haste.

"Lady Catherine, I assure you, there has been no such contrivance. Mr. Darcy's proposal was entirely his own decision, made out of a sense of honour when faced with the circumstances as they truly are."

Lady Catherine's eyes narrowed as she glanced at Mrs. Bennet. "Honor? Nonsense! My nephew has been betrothed to my daughter, Anne, since they were children. This marriage you seek to force upon him is a disgrace!"

Elizabeth's temper flared at the insult, but she held her tongue, unwilling to further provoke the lady.

Lady Catherine continued, her voice sharp. "I am willing to offer you a substantial sum in compensation if you will release my nephew from this absurd engagement and leave him be. Consider it a fair exchange for your... inconvenience."

Elizabeth met Lady Catherine's gaze with steady resolve. "I must ask, Lady Catherine, does Mr. Darcy know of your visit?"

"He does not, but that is of no consequence. I am acting in his best interest, as I always have."

Elizabeth's eyes flashed with defiance. "It seems to me that pride is a common trait among your family, Lady Catherine. You accuse me of ensnaring Mr. Darcy, yet it is you who seek to control his every move."

Lady Catherine's expression darkened. "You are an impertinent young woman! How dare you speak to me in such a manner?"

Elizabeth opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, Mr. Collins interjected with a horrified gasp, "Cousin Elizabeth! You must not address Lady Catherine with such disrespect. It is most unbecoming."

"What kind of uncultured cousin do you have, Mr. Collins? I am highly disappointed in her breeding. Mrs. Bennet, it is clear you have not raised your daughter with the proper decorum befitting a young lady." Lady Catherine said, turning her disapproving gaze upon Mr. Collins first, then Mrs. Bennet.

Mrs. Bennet, flustered and wringing her hands, stammered, "I assure you, Lady Catherine, I have done my best. And while I acknowledge that Lizzy have always been a headstrong girl, you insult us with your words."

The argument ceased momentarily as the door opened, and Mr. Bennet entered, having just returned from his visit to Sir William. He surveyed the scene with a raised eyebrow.

"Lady Catherine de Bourgh," Mr. Collins said with a nervous smile as Mr. Bennet looked from his face to the woman standing in their drawing room. "My cousin, Mr. Bennet," he added, gesturing toward Mr. Bennet as if seeking to smooth over the tension.

Lady Catherine merely tipped her head slightly in acknowledgment.

"Lady Catherine, I see you have graced us with your presence. To what do we owe this honour?" Mr. Bennet inquired; his tone polite but edged with curiosity.

Lady Catherine turned to Mr. Bennet with an air of superiority. "Mr. Bennet, surely you are a reasonable man. I am prepared to offer your daughter a generous sum to end this engagement. It would be in the best interest of your family."

Mr. Bennet, his tone polite but firm, replied, "Lady Catherine, while I appreciate your offer, I must decline. You see, my daughter's honour is not something to be bartered for. Unless Mr. Darcy himself cancels the proposal, we have no further conversation to entertain."

"You insult me, sir!" Lady Catherine saif, her eyes blazing with fury.

"Not at all, Lady Catherine," Mr. Bennet said with a slight bow. "I simply respect my daughter's right to make her own decisions and I would expect a woman of your standard to do same for your nephew."

Lady Catherine turned on her heel, her voice sharp as she addressed Mr. Collins. "How could you have let this happen, Mr. Collins? I expected better judgment from you."

Mr. Collins, now thoroughly abashed, stammered, "I—I did not foresee this outcome, Lady Catherine. I had hoped to propose to my cousin Elizabeth, but..."

Lady Catherine cut him off with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Enough! I shall take this matter up with my nephew. This is not over."

With that, she turned on her heel, her skirts rustling as she walked away. As she reached the door, she cast a disdainful glance around the modest drawing room once more, her nose wrinkling as if she had caught a whiff of something unpleasant. "It is a wonder how anyone could live in such a condition and yet carry themselves with airs far above their station."

Mr. Bennet, with a raised brow and a smile playing at the corners of his lips, couldn't resist a final retort. "Indeed, Lady Catherine, it is equally astonishing how some people can be so grand and yet possess so little civility."

Elizabeth bit her lip to stifle a smile, her eyes filled with gratitude as she looked at her father. On the other hand, Mr. Collins's countenance was a study in fear and dismay as he hastened to follow Lady Catherine, his steps unsteady on the polished floor. In his eagerness to appease her, he nearly lost his footing, all the while bowing with obsequious fervor and murmuring apologies, his voice quavering as he sought to reassure her of his continued and unshakeable devotion.

****

The sound of carriage wheels crunching over the gravel drive heralded the arrival of Lady Catherine de Bourgh at Netherfield. Alighting from her equipage with Mr. Collins, who cowered obediently at her side, she approached the grand entrance with an air of authority that seemed to chill the atmosphere. The occupants of the drawing room—Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley, Miss Bingley, Mrs. Hurst, and Mr. Hurst—rose as one, their surprises clearly written on their face

"Lady Catherine," Darcy began, his voice betraying a note of surprise, "to what do we owe the unexpected pleasure? You have arrived without sending word."

Darcy's eyes flicked to Mr. Collins, a knowing glance passing between them, for it was evident who had sent word to Lady Catherine. Lady Catherine, however, responded with a tone that brooked no argument. "I traveled with scarcely a pause over the past two days to reach Meryton this morning. There was no time to send word, as the matter demanded immediate attention." Her gaze fixed on Darcy with a piercing intensity. "I have come to inquire about the rumours I have heard, rumours that you intend to marry this... Miss Elizabeth Bennet."

Darcy's expression tightened, though he maintained an outward calm. "I had hoped to handle this matter with discretion, Lady Catherine. However, since you are now aware, I can confirm that these are not mere rumours, but indeed my true intentions."

"Discretion?" Lady Catherine retorted, her voice sharp with disbelief. "I have already made my sentiments known to that lowly family. They are under the delusion that such a match could ever be possible. What damage have you wrought by indulging in this folly?"

"What have you done, Aunt?" Darcy quizzed, his eyes bewildered.

"A marriage forced merely for the sake of securing a comfortable situation—an opportunity that the little Miss Elizabeth may have orchestrated or, at the very least, seized upon to trap you. Surely you see the possibility of such from a lady of low connections and no sizable fortune." Lady Catherine pressed.

Darcy's voice was firm as he replied, "I assure you, Miss Bennet did nothing of the sort. Fate had its plans, and it appears that my path and Elizabeth's are destined to converge.""

"I have tried to reason with Mr. Darcy, Lady Catherine, but he refuses to see the folly in this. It is most unfortunate." Miss Bingley interjected before Darcy could respond, her voice dripping with false concern.

Lady Catherine turned her disapproving gaze to Bingley. "This is your doing, Mr. Bingley. If you had not dragged Darcy to this insignificant corner of the world, he would not be in this predicament."

"Enough, Lady Catherine," Darcy interjected, his voice firm as his patience waned. "I am entirely capable of making my own decisions and bearing the consequences that accompany them. If you cannot respect my intentions, then perhaps it is best that we do not continue this conversation."

Lady Catherine's eyes narrowed. "But you were promised to Anne. Your late mother and I agreed upon it. Do you forget your duty?"

Miss Bingley, though clearly discomfited by this revelation, maintained a carefully composed expression, her displeasure hidden beneath a veneer of restrain.

"I made no such promises, Lady Catherine. You have often spoken of this arrangement, but I do not recall my mother ever telling me of any such betrothal to Anne. Anne herself is content with our relationship as it is and at peace with us being brother and sister. I see no reason to force a connection that neither of us desires."

"But it is your duty! You must see reason, Darcy. Mr. Collins, surely you understand the wisdom of this." Lady Catherine said, her frustration growing palpable.

Mr. Collins nodded vigorously, "Indeed, Mr. Darcy, Lady Catherine speaks with the voice of experience and wisdom. It would be prudent to consider her counsel."

"I will say nothing more on this matter. My decision is made." Darcy said, "Lady Catherine, you are welcome to stay at Netherfield if you wish, I believe Bingley would be accommodating. If not, there are inns nearby, or I wish you a safe journey should you choose to return to Rosings."

Lady Catherine, her face flushed with anger, shook visibly as she declared, "Perhaps I shall seek the counsel of Colonel Fitzwilliam. He may yet talk sense into you. I shall not remain in Meryton a moment longer."

"Do as you wish, Aunt, but know that my mind will not be swayed, not even by Colonel Fitzwilliam."

Lady Catherine turned sharply on her heel and stormed out of the room, Mr. Collins scrambling to follow, his obsequious apologies trailing after her.

The Bingley sisters exchanged bewildered glances as Lady Catherine left. They had never witnessed Darcy speak in such a manner to his aunt.

Mrs. Hurst, recovering first, remarked, "It seems, Mr. Darcy, that you have truly made up your mind."

Darcy, his expression betraying a tumult of emotions, abruptly excused himself and withdrew to his chambers, leaving the others to grapple with the gravity of what had just transpired.