Chapter 4

Lady Catherine entered the library and stared at him. He bowed. She acknowledged his gallantry with a slight inclination of her chin.

She looked about. “What do you call this... room?”

“It is the library, madam.”

Lady Catherine pursed her lips. Several seconds passed. “It is very small and poorly stocked.”

“I concur it is nothing compared to Rosings Park.” Darcy played along. He knew the musical score well. The prelude was observation and misdirection. “May I ask what brings you to Hertfordshire?”

“Do not be obtuse, Darcy, it becomes you not.”

“Are you going to spend the next hours insulting me? If so, I have pressing matters to attend to.”

I am not to be trifled with.

“Darcy,” she replied angrily, “you ought to know that I am not to be trifled with.”

“If you would get to the point, madam, we might move from mystery to matter.”

“Alliteration?”

“If it propels us along, yes.”

“Very well, then. Why are you here? Why are you not in Kent? With Anne?”

The prelude had ended. Act one had begun.

“Why would I be in Kent? It is well past Easter. I shall visit again in six months.” He narrowed his eyes. “As I always do.”

She banged her cane upon the floor. “It is no longer enough!”

Darcy was not amused. Her continued belief that she could speak to him as a child in leading strings rankled.

“I cannot understand your reaction, madam.”

Lady Catherine pursed her lips. Her face resembled a person sucking on a lemon.

“Since you shirk your duty to your family, I have come to now make my sentiments known to you.” She punctuated her threat with another bang of her cane.

Darcy clenched his jaw. Offering any resistance at this point was futile. He would wait her out.

“I have set things to right,” she announced.

Darcy remained silent. Wait. What? Sentiments? “What have you righted, Lady Catherine?” he asked. Something made little sense. Besides Mrs Collins, Miss Elizabeth was the only link between Hertfordshire and Kent.

“Have your senses further dulled by the low company you keep?”

Darcy refused to answer her insult. He stared her down.

“Yes, Nephew. I made my sentiments known. To that industrious chit who mocked her betters this past Easter.”

“Your ladyship, let us be clear. To whom are you referring?”

Lady Catherine raised her walking stick and shook it in front of him. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet!”

Darcy swallowed his gasp, but apparently, his widened eyes gave him away.

“So, it is true! You have been taken in. You.” She shook her cane in a raised fist. “Are you aware of what you are doing? What you have done?”

Darcy gestured towards a nearby chair. She grunted, then sat. Darcy walked to the door and spotted Nicholls. “Tea, Nicholls, if you would?”

“Very good, sir.”

Darcy returned and sat opposite her. She stared at him as if he were vermin. He cared not. In a battle of wits, she was unarmed. He sat back and crossed his legs.

“If you would do me the honour, please recount the justification for your journey,” he politely requested.

Darcy counted to himself. At seven, she opened her reticule and handed him a letter.

Miss de Bourgh,

I must bring to your attention the undesirable attention Miss Elizabeth Bennet is paying to Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy and he to her. I cannot surmise if she knows of his betrothal to you, but she may not pay notice of such an obligation.

The note was unsigned, though the masculine prose sparked a sense of the familiar. Darcy pocketed the note. “I see. You have paid heed to gossip in its basest form. I am surprised a person of your cleverness would fall for such a scheme.”

Lady Catherine stammered. “What? Who? What? How?”

He waved off her incoherence. “What was your next action, madam?”

“I had Mr Collins attend to me.”

“The author of the note’s accusations?”

“No. He confirmed it was not from his hand,” replied Lady Catherine with a pause, “as did I.”

Darcy bit the inside of his cheek as he pictured her with a jeweller’s glass myopically peering back and forth comparing the note with a past sermon from her sycophant. “As did you.”

Lady Catherine glared at his repetition. “Before your interruption, I stated that I held an audience with Mr Collins.”

“Yes, I, too, have had that unfortunate pleasure,” Darcy replied taking care to remain sedate. “A full ballroom watched as your parson felt it was his place to make himself known to me. An ill-mannered and vulgar disregard of propriety and wholly ignorant of standing.”

Putting her on notice regarding the preservation of rank gave him the upper hand. The doors opened, and servants efficiently delivered a light repast. Moments later, they exited.

Lady Catherine did the honours, albeit fixing tea begrudgingly. “Mr Collins had offered marriage to Miss Elizabeth Bennet. She refused him.”

Darcy schooled his emotions. “I find a fantasy such as that hard to believe.”

“Believe it, you may. Mr Collins would dare not lie to me.”

Darcy raised an eyebrow.

The myriad of emotions that crossed Lady Catherine’s face would have been comical had he been less affected. “There was truth in his looks,” she admitted. “I daresay a man would not lie about being rejected.”

“Provided that I accept your premise, pray, defend your man.”

“Collins, in the ineptest manner possible, listed his reasons for marrying. He was quite eloquent when he restated the event. He gave his reasons for marrying as: first, he should set the example of matrimony in the parish; second, marriage would add greatly to his happiness; third, he sought marriage as he was following particular advice from his patroness—me!”

Darcy sipped from his libation. That toad of a parson offered for Miss Elizabeth and did a better job of it than me!

“I remain puzzled that two unrelated, second-hand communications impelled you to travel more than half a day’s journey. I would not call that a very easy distance.” Darcy pressed his lips together to squash a smile. Every remembrance of Elizabeth’s debate was a joy to savour.

“Nevertheless, Darcy, here I am.”

“Yes, here you are. Pray, continue.”

“I travelled to Mr Collins’s future estate as quickly as safety allowed. There, I encountered the chit’s family.”

Darcy held up a hand. “Remember who you are, Lady Catherine. Who we are.”

“Quite right, Nephew.” She sipped her tea. “I invited Miss Elizabeth to walk with me.”

Darcy waited for the insults to start.

“Miss Elizabeth seemed surprised at my journey hither. She could not offer a reason for my presence. ‘Dare not trifle with me,’ I told her.”

Because you are celebrated for your sincerity and frankness.

“My character is celebrated for its sincerity and frankness.”

“And?” he prompted.

“I informed her that an alarming report had reached me.” Lady Catherine dabbed her lips. “That she would be united to you in matrimony. Although I knew it to be false, I had to speak my mind.”

“Did Miss Elizabeth confirm your suspicions?”

“No, she practised her rhetoric.”

“Rhetoric?” repeated Darcy.

“Yes, rhetoric, Darcy. My word. If your senses dull any further, you may as well enter a trade.”

Darcy withheld his chuckle. Lady Catherine, albeit tiresomely condescending, had a unique sense of humour. Were circumstances less dire, he would have enjoyed playing along with her. “You were saying, madam?”

“Miss Elizabeth argued that if I disbelieved the impossible, my journey hither was nonsensical.”

Elizabeth is brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.

“I informed her I desired to hear her contradict such a report.”

“And Miss Elizabeth’s response?” He could hardly wait for the riposte.

“She said my coming to see her was a confirmation of it. Then she qualified her answer by questioning the report’s veracity.”

Darcy was enthralled. She may never like me, but I can bask in my time with her. Lady Catherine continued unimpeded.

“I questioned her knowledge of the rumour. Whether she had spread it abroad.”

“And what did she reply?” he asked.

“She claimed never to have heard of it. She ran me around in her little verbal circles, like one of those tedious barristers, confirming nothing and avoiding a direct answer.”

Lady Catherine examined her fingernails. “I informed her of your long-standing obligation to the family, to Anne.”

“We will not allow that subject to detour us. Pray, continue.”

Lady Catherine’s mouth was open, most likely to protest—push her familial authority, remind him of his duty—but she did not.

“I reminded her of her place. Of her sphere.”

But she is equal to me in rank. We are both progeny of gentlemen.

“She hid behind her father’s ownership of an estate. But her mother, her aunts and uncles.” She narrowed her eyes. “You cannot be ignorant of their condition.”

Darcy lowered his chin and widened his eyes.

“So, you have reconciled yourself to an alliance tainted by trade?” she demanded.

“I shall not dignify that statement with a response.”

“Then nothing remains to be said.”

“I beg to differ.”

“What remains between us, Darcy? You refuse to do your duty. You desire to take up with those well below your station.” She stood. “I shall no longer recognise you after today.”

Darcy paused. Shall I allow her to remain in ignorance? No. I cannot. “What remains between us, Lady Catherine? I can think of one very important matter.”

“Which is?” she asked.

“Anne.”

Lady Catherine fell back into her chair.

“Whatever do you mean?”

“We must settle Anne.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “You must.”

“No, Lady Catherine. We must.”

He waited. She would eventually realise his meaning. She was overbearing, opinionated, and irrationally frank. But she had a good heart and loved her daughter. Her family.

She produced a handkerchief and dabbed her eyes. “Say that I accept your scheme. Who do you speak of, Darcy?”

“Another Fitzwilliam, madam.”

She did not smile. “The spare.”

Darcy released her hand and sat back. How dare you! “His name is Richard,” he hissed.

“Fine. I relent.” She pursed her lips. “He is a Fitzwilliam in name.”

“Do you not understand, Lady Catherine? Did you never consider the consequences should I consent to marry Anne?”

“Whatever do you mean?”

Darcy took a breath then released it slowly. “That Rosings Park would eventually return to the de Bourghs.”

Lady Catherine’s eyes widened. “How sure of this are you?”

“Very. Sir Lewis made Anne his heir, as you are well aware. Any man who marries her must surrender his surname for de Bourgh. He clearly enumerated this in his last will and testament.”

“But not a Fitzwilliam,” she whispered.

“No, not a Fitzwilliam. That was his exception, quite heartfelt, if I may say, to you and your family. The sole exception would be a Fitzwilliam of the Matlock branch—your branch. Anne’s health may not allow her to endure the birth of a child. If the Almighty saw fit to allow her to bear my child, it would be a Darcy.”

“Should she birth a child with the... Fitzwilliam, they would maintain the inheritance chain,” she replied.

She is already converted from ‘her ‘to ‘they’. How nice for Richard and Anne.

“With or without a child, Rosings Park would remain in the Fitzwilliam conservatorship.”

Lady Catherine sipped her tea. “Why are you offering this solution now? Why did you wait for so long?” Her voice rose.

“Current events allow me to do so.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Fitzwilliam’s injuries are enough to warrant a permanent change.” Darcy smiled. “Lady Matlock will direct his selling out.”

“Then it is done. No son of Matlock would dare challenge her ladyship’s directive.” She smiled. “I shall send my concerns regarding Fitzwilliam’s health. A six-week in Kent would be just the thing.”

“I am pleased he may now move on to a less dangerous milieu than a battlefield.” He grinned. “Shall his next campaign be in Kent, Lady Catherine? Will he receive a hero’s welcome?”

“Allow me to prepare for a house party. A few weeks, in the least.”

“Of course,” he answered.

Lady Catherine stood, then resumed her chair. “One last thing, Darcy.”

“Yes?”

“Concerning your Miss Elizabeth.”

“She is not my Miss Elizabeth.”

She waved him off. “I asked her if she was engaged to you.”

Darcy’s mouth dropped open almost as rapidly as his heart fell into his Hessians.

“Close your mouth, Nephew, or you will catch flies. Ghastly insects.”

Darcy swallowed. “Her reply was in the negative?”

“It was. I quote, ‘I am not’. Although, I did sense something in her manner that I could not like.”

“Something you could not like?”

“Yes, a certain je ne sais quoi.”

Darcy rolled his eyes. “Now you choose to display your talents, madam?”

Lady Catherine pressed her lips together. Her smile was evident. “For as much as Miss Elizabeth is frank to the point of impertinence, in this conversation she appeared to be hiding something. I decided I would press her further.”

“And then?” he asked, barely controlling his anxiety in the matter. A light sweat had broken out on his palms; he blotted them against his trousers.

“I demanded that she promise never to enter into such an engagement with you.”

Darcy closed his eyes. His last, final seed of hope was whisked away with the wind. He raised his hand and massaged his temples with his fingertips.

I am the last man she could ever be prevailed upon to marry.

Tears threatened. I shall never wed, not while Elizabeth is somewhere in the kingdom. Georgiana shall inherit. There is no entail on Pem...

“Darcy! For the love of St Peter, did you not hear me?”

He shook away the maudlin. “Pardon me, Lady Catherine, you were saying...”

“Miss Elizabeth’s answer. Did you not hear me?”

“Forgive me. Please say that again.”

Lady Catherine grunted. “As I said, I demanded that she never accept your offer. Her reply was, ‘I will make no promise of the kind’.”

Darcy paused.

“She refused not to entertain my offer?” he whispered.

“A double-negative? How tiresome young lovers are.”

“Lady Catherine!” She is smiling at me. Laughing at me.

“She did,” Lady Catherine replied.

Darcy blinked. What do I do now?

“Have your man prepare you for a most important day,” she instructed.

“What?”

“Really, Darcy. I must insist you improve your immediate circle. Speaking your thoughts aloud? How plebeian of you.”

Darcy chuckled, unable to stop himself.

Reaching across the divide between them, she took his hand and squeezed it, her rings cutting painfully into his fingers. He cared not a whit for the mild agony. His aunt had proved an unlikely ally. “Show her your regard, Nephew. Such truth is irresistible.”

“Now you are an expert on properly courting a lady?”

“I am proficient in most things, my dear.” She patted his cheek and departed.

Barty appeared. “Sir, may I prepare us for our most important day?”

Darcy stood as he laughed and grasped his man’s shoulder. “Yes, Barty, you may. Let us begin.”