Chapter 11

Eleven

Not a week had passed before wonderful news arrived from Longbourn: Jane was engaged to Mr Bingley. Jane's happiness overflowed in her letter, and Elizabeth was genuinely pleased for her dearest sister.

She was also envious. Mr Darcy had neither called nor left word of any kind. A tiny tentacle of hope that had refused to be crushed was finally withering its slow death. Realising he had not been forced to honourable action, he had reconsidered his options. It is all for the best , she told herself. According to Jane, there was not a whisper of rumour regarding her reasons for removing to town. All was well. There was time, if she met him in the future—perhaps even at Jane's wedding—to learn to pretend. She was now rehearsing the pretence every day; never mind that she expected to do so for the rest of her life. After all, once having been almost in love with Mr Darcy, who else could compare?

She and Mrs Gardiner were sitting together in the breakfast parlour on a grey winter's morning the very day after the news of Jane's engagement, when their attention was suddenly drawn to the window by the sound of a carriage—a chaise and four coming up the drive. It was too early for visitors, and besides, the equipage did not answer to that of any of their neighbours. Neither the carriage, nor the livery of the servant who preceded it, were familiar to them. As it was certain, however, that somebody was coming, she and her aunt went to the formal drawing room to await them.

The housekeeper soon entered. "Lady Catherine de Bourgh," she said, giving her card to Mrs Gardiner. A large, tall woman followed the presentation of the card.

"We have not been introduced," the woman announced to the room at large, her tone imperious, her every feature a demanding imprint upon a face which might once have been handsome. "I expect, however, that you know who I am."

Elizabeth recalled the name—Mr Collins's patroness, and Mr Darcy's aunt—possessing a daughter she wished him to marry.

"You are Miss Bennet?" she said, rounding upon Elizabeth.

"I am," Elizabeth replied. The uncivil air of the woman put her back up; however, she was determined, for Mr Darcy's sake, to be polite.

"And that lady is your aunt?" she asked ungraciously.

"She is. Mrs Gardiner," she added, although no introduction had been requested.

Lady Catherine proceeded, in very short order, to issue a critique on the location of the home and its placement off the street, the west-facing windows, the arrangement of the furniture, and the fabrics used in its upholstery, saying all as if she was entitled, by right of birth, to come into a stranger's home and issue disparagements.

Elizabeth glanced at Mrs Gardiner—and to her surprise, she saw that her aunt was holding back laughter. In that moment, something inside of her eased. She did not have to protect anyone here today. She would benefit from Mrs Gardiner's example, and live up to the behaviour of a true lady—regardless of birth—while this one made herself ridiculous.

"Since you hold such disapproval of my home," Mrs Gardiner interrupted when Lady Catherine paused for breath, "you will please forgive my surprise that you have entered it. I am certain I received no prior warning of your arrival."

Brilliant, Auntie! Elizabeth thought. Lady Catherine had never before called nor left her card—vulgar violations of basic etiquette.

Lady Catherine simply pretended not to have heard. "Miss Bennet, I require a private word with you. Does this home even possess a garden walk? I should be glad to take a turn in it, if you will favour me with your company. "

But the lady had not counted on Mrs Margaret Gardiner, who refused to be cowed by her disdain. "Unfortunately, your ladyship, I do not know you, and nothing in our very brief un -acquaintance leads me to believe my niece ought to be left alone in your company. If you have anything to say to her, you may say it in my hearing. Anything which I may not hear is, frankly, better left unsaid."

Lady Catherine looked down her nose with a hostile stare, and narrowed her eyes; Mrs Gardiner remained implacable and unaffected. Finally, her ladyship gave it up and proceeded, again, to pretend the other woman did not exist.

"Let us sit down. Miss Bennet, you can be at no loss to understand my reason for coming."

They sat, and Elizabeth did not hesitate in replying. "Indeed, you are mistaken. I have not been able to account for it at all."

"I have been to visit my nephew, Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy. Do you pretend to be unacquainted with him? I have heard an insupportable claim, and I demand to have it countered."

"Until I have any idea what the claim is, I can hardly contradict it."

"It is that you so deceived my nephew as to convince him of some false notion of rescue, so that instead of marrying my vicar and remaining in the sphere you were born to, you might marry him instead. He says that the marriage has not yet taken place, but he refuses to promise that it never will."

Despite Lady Catherine's disingenuous description of the affair, it was all Elizabeth could do not to smile. "How kind of Mr Darcy. He wishes to protect my reputation."

The housekeeper entered with a tea tray, and Lady Catherine was forced to hold her tongue until the servant departed.

"The very idea is insupportable! He is engaged to my daughter!"

"Then you have nothing to worry over, do you?" Elizabeth, copying Mrs Gardiner's disinterested, unaffected air, turned instead to the tea tray. "Might I serve the tea for you, Aunt?"

Lady Catherine glared at this activity, as if they ought to remain awed in frozen silence while in her presence.

"Their engagement is of an informal nature. It was the dying wish of his mother. Are you so lost to delicacy, that you could ignore his family's claims upon him?"

Elizabeth poured her aunt's cup, adding a touch of fresh cream. "If I can ignore your insults, I can certainly ignore that . Here you are, Aunt. Biscuit?"

"Thank you, yes, Elizabeth," Mrs Gardiner said, taking a sip. "You know just how I like it."

Her ladyship's eyes narrowed. "Unfeeling, selfish girl! Do you not consider that a connexion with you must disgrace him in the eyes of everybody?"

Mrs Gardiner frowned, opening her mouth to respond, but Elizabeth gave her a little shake of her head. "I certainly do not. You are wasting your time. I am neither standing in the way of his marriage to Miss de Bourgh, nor preventing him from offering for her. If he wishes to do so, he certainly might—and, it seems to me, could have already."

It was as if she had not spoken. "You have no regard, then, for the honour and credit of my nephew?"

"It is due to his honour and credit that he has refused to give you the promise you demand."

"Nonsense! Mr Collins has told me of a disgusting scene—at a public inn, no less—in which you made a sordid spectacle of yourself, but I have sworn him to silence! Believe me when I say that he shall not ever mention it again—he will never dare even think of it! You are to understand, Miss Bennet, that I came here with the determined resolution of carrying my purpose. You have no fortune, I am told. Providentially, I am a most generous woman. You will be happy to learn that I have decided to take your impoverishment under consideration, in examining your previous conduct. Promise that you will not marry my nephew, and a thousand pounds will be yours now—the same amount, I understand, you will receive upon your mother's death. I have not been used to submit to the whims of any such a person as you. You will accept my liberality, and our association will be at an end. I have not been in the habit of brooking disappointment."

That blabbermouth Mr Collins obviously gossiped, and this shrew believes me to be a grasping, conniving, deceiver! Had Elizabeth not been determined to counter the old lady's coarseness with an opposite behaviour, she might have sunk to her level with a few sarcastic rejoinders.

"I am certain you believe yourself to be offering protection to your nephew, but you betray your daughter's private concerns to a disinterested party. I will never speak of what occurred on the road to London. It is all to be forgot. You waste your time and mine mentioning it. It is to him that you must give your assurances, and fifty times that amount would not buy me."

"Assurances! He requires more than that, obstinate, headstrong girl! He swears he will wed you before the year is out whether Collins speaks or not! He has been confounded by your arts and allurements, and in a moment of selfish infatuation, has forgot his obligations."

"You have said more than enough," Mrs Gardiner said, standing. "I shall see you out. Perhaps you are satisfied with such unbecoming conduct as you have demonstrated in word and action this morning—but my niece is accustomed to a much higher standard of behaviour. We are finished here."

Lady Catherine's voice rose to the level of a shriek. "I am shocked and astonished. But do not deceive yourself into a belief that I will ever recede. I shall not go away till I have been given the promise I require!"

It looked very much as though, if Mrs Gardiner wished her ladyship gone, she would have to have her removed—perhaps with ropes and oxen, Elizabeth feared. But at that moment, Vincent, Mr Gardiner's man, entered without knocking. Vincent was quietly dressed and even quieter of manner. However, having been raised on the docks, he had made himself indispensable to Mr Gardiner in a hundred ways—one of which was his ability to scent trouble from two floors away.

"Shall I call for the master, Mistress?" he said in his very quiet voice.

There was something about Vincent that warned one not to cross him, and even Lady Catherine was not proof against it.

She stood, sniffed, and stalked out, Vincent stepping back to permit her exit—and probably to ensure she actually departed. But at the door, she stopped. "You do not deserve my attention. Do not suppose this matter is finished. I will carry my point."

Vincent closed the door behind her; Elizabeth and Mrs Gardiner stared at each other.

"Well," said her aunt. "That was something."

Elizabeth grinned, and then, because she could not help herself, laughed aloud.

Mrs Gardiner raised a brow, although she smiled back. "She was absurd, was she not? I did not mind her silly opinions of my home, but her accusations against you were insupportable. I cannot find amusement in it yet, but give me an hour or so. I am certain by the time I relay the tale to your uncle, we shall all be chuckling."

"There is little to respect about her," Elizabeth agreed, reining in her laughter. Nonetheless, she could not help the happiness bubbling through her.

Mr Darcy was a man perfectly capable of speaking his mind—and was also a man of strong opinions. It was possible that his aunt had goaded him into saying it, but the very fact of his refusal to affirm that a marriage was not imminent—never mind promising her that it was —told Elizabeth that his feelings remained unchanged. It was not, perhaps, the message Lady Catherine had intended to deliver, but it was the one received.

He wanted to marry her, still. She did not understand why he stayed away, but hope, like the resilient phoenix, rose up again from the ashes of her disappointment.

Exactly two weeks after Darcy and Elizabeth's adventure on the road to London, he presented himself upon the Gardiners' doorstep. He wore his finest coat, a green wool tailored by Weston, his boots polished to a nearly blinding gleam; his man—obviously sensing romance in the air—had fussed over his cravat endlessly. He felt like a dashed fop, even clutching a posy in the hopes of catching the eye of his lady-love while sporting an over-elaborate, dandified neckcloth.

Those nerves faded the moment he set eyes upon Elizabeth. She was dressed charmingly in yellow, her dark eyes shining, her perfect, pretty mouth smiling. For a moment he was utterly dumbfounded as feelings of adoration rushed through him, urging him to his knee right there in the parlour while her aunt looked on. He only just managed to contain them.

"Mr Darcy," Elizabeth murmured, in response to his bowed greeting. "How lovely to see you again." She glanced at the flowers. "Are those for me?"

The sound of her voice sent a thrill through his very being. "Yes," he said, thrusting them at her like a green lad and then feeling equal parts foolish and lustful as she twinkled up at him from amongst the blossoms.

Mrs Gardiner, whom he had hardly noticed upon bringing Elizabeth to Gracechurch Street, greeted him graciously, took the flowers from Elizabeth, and made some excuse about putting them in water. Unbelievably, within minutes of his arrival, he was alone with the woman he loved.

"My aunt says you require fifty thousand to marry me," he said.

"Did she?" Elizabeth raised a brow. "And how did you respond?"

"I told her I would write the bank draft at once, if I thought you would take it—but as you are worth a hundred times the amount, I did not believe I could get you so cheaply."

She grinned, and warmth flooded him.

"Such a reasonable answer to give. Although I suppose it did not please your aunt."

"I could not care a farthing for her opinions." He could wait no longer, and foolish and gauche or not, he dropped to one knee. "Elizabeth, my love, keeping away from you to assure that your hand would not be forced has made for the longest two weeks of my life. Please say you will marry me, and that this is the last separation we must ever endure."

To his surprise, she, too, went down on her knees before him. "I am not nearly so honourable as you," she said, wrapping her arms around him. "I shall endanger your reputation, thoroughly, so that you shall have to marry me immediately." She moved her lips to his.

She was far too innocent to know exactly what her words meant, he realised, and happily returned her kiss; what she lacked in experience, she made up for in enthusiasm and he quickly realised he could be carried away, right here in her aunt's parlour unless he allowed his better self to govern at once . Carefully he stood, drawing her up with him, struggling to contain his own passion.

"I missed you," she murmured against his lips, and his heart swelled.

"I shall get a licence," he said.

"I shall write to Papa today. He can give any permission necessary." She bit her lip, looking up at him with a little hesitation. "Did you know that Mr Bingley is returned to Netherfield? He has evidently asked for Jane's hand."

"I knew. I was not certain your sister wished to give her hand to Bingley, but I told him that she is a woman of integrity and he must be very certain of her feelings before pressing." He smiled. "I did hope he would press, however. I was devious, you see. I thought perhaps if your sister became attached to my good friend, you might think better of my own suit."

She smiled back. "I do like how you think, Mr Darcy. However, Jane's feelings for Mr Bingley have never been in doubt. Cannot you tell a woman in love when you see one?"

He brushed her cheek with one hand. "I am afraid to hope. We did not begin— I did not begin well."

"It is fortunate, then, that we are to be given more than one beginning," she replied softly.