Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

E lizabeth found Gracechurch Street a welcome respite from the chaos of Longbourn and the whispers she suspected were rampant in Meryton. Much as she missed Jane, she did not overly regret her absence from the business of the wedding arrangements; letters from her sisters spoke of laces and dinners at Netherfield and parties and ‘poor Jane having to call Miss Bingley her sister'.

Miss Bingley will be sister to all of you as well, she thought. And she is equally horrified.

She preferred the time spent amusing her little cousins, enjoying the novels and poetry that her aunt kept in her sitting room, and taking long walks accompanied by her maid or her uncle's man down the busy thoroughfares and verdant parks. Visits to the British Museum, the theatre, and bookshops gave her equal pleasure, particularly as Mr and Mrs Gardiner kept her close company and her uncle's glare was practised on any gentleman who dared to look twice at Elizabeth .

The three weeks which had proved such an antidote to Elizabeth's sensibilities were quickly forgot when she arrived in Kent with Sir William and Maria Lucas and laid eyes on her cousin. If marriage was said to be the making of a man, it had done Mr Collins no favours. His hubris had grown in tandem with his belly.

Charlotte must spend all her time letting out his trousers and jackets.

After a grandiose speech welcoming them to his ‘humble home', and allowing Charlotte to greet her father and sister, Mr Collins proceeded to pull them this way and that to point to and boast of the glories of Hunsford Parsonage. Nearly every sentence began the same: "Lady Catherine graciously suggested..."

Elizabeth caught Charlotte's eye and gave her a small smile. She knew she could not indulge her true feelings and mock the man to his wife, but she hoped Charlotte would tolerate her own need to make sport of the ridiculous. The ridiculous Lady Catherine, that is.

"Mr Collins has benefited greatly from the knowledge and advice of his patroness," Elizabeth said quietly as they watched the vicar leading the rest of the party into the garden.

"Lady Catherine has been generous indeed. Not even my father could offer more guidance or insight." Charlotte pressed Elizabeth's hand. "I have missed you, Lizzy. Your humour and good sense will be a balm to me."

Returning the squeeze, Elizabeth accompanied Charlotte on a slow pace towards Mr Collins and the Lucases. "Good sense is in short supply at Longbourn, but as I have replenished myself these past weeks at the Gardiners, I am sure to have much to spare you. "

"Thank you. As you see, Mr Collins is quite proud of our home and somewhat overawed by Lady Catherine. She is aware of your visit—Mr Collins has been effusive in speaking of my father to her, and of your position as my dear friend and the second-born daughter of the cousin he is heir to."

Elizabeth, all too aware of Mr Collins's lack of discretion, swallowed. "Effusive? Dare I ask after my description?"

"Worry not. She knows only that our families have long been friends, and that you enjoy walking, and play and sing."

"I do two of those things rather badly, as you know."

"I know nothing of the kind, Lizzy, but she will request you exhibit, and ensure you realise her own daughter would exceed your talent had she ever learnt."

Elizabeth stopped, delighted to see Charlotte's sly humour unaltered. "Truly? This is the glorious Anne de Bourgh with whom you are friends, and who was said to be engaged to Mr Darcy?"

"Shhh." Charlotte waved and called to her husband, who stood only yards away, staring curiously at them. "I shall go see to tea, Mr Collins." She tugged Elizabeth's arm and they began their return to the house. "Miss de Bourgh is everything opposite to what her mother and Mr Collins will tell you. She does have a certain sweetness, but is excessively lonely?—"

"I should imagine?—"

"And I have endeavoured to become her friend. You are a bold creature and while you may frighten Miss de Bourgh with your liveliness, she will like you. However, I must warn you of Lady Catherine's temperament. It will not shock you that she holds strong opinions and shares them frequently."

Accustomed to admonitions from her mother and aunts that she too shared her views rather frequently, Elizabeth simply nodded. "I will do nothing to offend her or lessen her approval of Mr Collins, Charlotte. I promise."

Whatever Elizabeth had anticipated of her first meeting with Lady Catherine, Rosings itself was overwhelming. Overwhelmingly oppressive and garish. As they were led through the grand hall and through a series of smaller, increasingly dark rooms towards the afternoon parlour where the lady awaited them, she reminded herself not to laugh aloud or stare too long at its shadowed opulence. She had been in museums and galleries and spent her childhood playing hiding games in the winding halls and elegant rooms of Meryton's grandest houses. But while those homes paled in size and grandeur to this palace, they, at least, had light and warmth within their walls.

The coldness extended to Lady Catherine's welcome, which Elizabeth would better characterise as an interrogation. Tall and proud in her high-backed gilt-edged chair, her faded beauty made harsh by years of frowning, she peered closely at Sir William and Elizabeth but—much to the relief of the trembling girl—appeared to dismiss Maria.

And then the questions began, and Elizabeth could not but admire Lady Catherine's disregard for manners as she spoke over Mr Collins' speeches and interrupted any replies she and Sir William attempted. Her life and family were canvassed and found wanting, and Mr Collins began apologising for the disappointment he too had found upon visiting Longbourn. Pleased for the respite, Elizabeth turned away and looked at Charlotte, who sat quietly, calming her sister and smiling serenely at Miss de Bourgh, a singularly unimpressive figure who attracted more sympathy than interest. Pale, and cloaked in a heavy shawl in the dim room, she appeared more spectral than flesh; only her sniffling and an occasional rise of a handkerchief betrayed her humanity. How could anyone believe her able to be the wife of a man as vigorous as Mr Darcy?

"Miss Bennet?—"

Elizabeth turned quickly back to Lady Catherine, prepared for judgment after confessing so much that had earned her disfavour.

"Your education is inadequate, you have no connexions of merit, and you profess yourself content to teach these meagre talents to your elder sister's future children? You are a pretty thing. Have you no interest in improving your own marriage prospects?"

"No, I do not."

The lady's squints and frowns made clear her displeasure. "Your cousin is a strange, impertinent creature, Mr Collins."

Seeing the obvious pleasure he took in Lady Catherine's unknowing agreement with his own judgment nearly caused Elizabeth to laugh aloud. Instead, she managed only to nod. "Your discernment is impressive, Lady Catherine, for while others have made similar observations of my character, you have concluded it so quickly. I am all admiration."

A pinched look was her only reward for such a compliment.