Chapter Thirteen

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

ELIZABETH TOLD HER aunt of it that evening, her tone halting. Her aunt tried to speak about Mr. Darcy, but Elizabeth only lashed out sharply that it was nonsense, utter nonsense.

And then, Elizabeth didn't speak of it again.

She wanted to go home, in fact. There was no reason to be in town anymore, and she likely would have gone home if it weren't for the fact that two letters came. One was from Charlotte Collins, who wrote of the empty guest rooms in the parsonage and of how many guests she could entertain and of how she was enjoying so very much being the mistress of her own household. You see, he is easily led, my husband. I don't mean to say that I am manipulative, Lizzy, only that I believe men in love enjoy pleasing their women.

Elizabeth thought this was true. She remembered Mr. Bingley's offers of books and attempts to change himself.

What was wrong with her?

Why didn't she enjoy it when men attempted to please her? Why did she find Mr. Darcy's offhand comments about how she was not a goddess somehow more truthful, more reassuring, more real?

The second letter was from Jane, who recounted matter-of-factly that Mr. Wickham was engaged to be married to a Miss King, an heiress who'd recently come into ten thousand pounds. Jane professed to be happy for him and to have never had any especial connection to Mr. Wickham in the first place, but Elizabeth wasn't quite sure if her sister was being honest with herself. Perhaps she simply wanted someone else to be devastated with her.

At any rate, she found herself writing letters to both Charlotte and Jane, dropping various hints with both of them, and before long, it was all settled.

Jane would travel with Sir William and Maria Lucas to London, and they would all spend one night here, at Gracechurch Street. On the following day, they would travel to Kent. Sir William would leave on his own after a short time, but they would stay for an extended visit, possibly six or eight weeks.

By the end of that time, both she and her sister would have forgotten any slight that any stupid man had paid them. If they had broken hearts, they would be mended.

If she remembered that Lady Catherine de Bourgh was Mr. Collin's patroness, and that he spoke of her excessively, she did not pay that any mind. If she also remembered that Mr. Darcy was Lady Catherine's nephew, she certainly didn't take that into account during her scheming.

She definitely did not think that Mr. Darcy would be there.

INDEED, AT FIRST , he was not.

Mr. Darcy did not appear in Kent right away, but he did appear remarkably quickly. They had been there less than four days before he arrived, and she did wonder if he'd come after her. She could not but wonder at that.

But before Mr. Darcy's appearance, she gave him little thought. In fact, she wished not to think of him if she could help it.

That first night at Gracechurch Street, she and Jane spent as much time as they could, whenever they could get away from other listening ears, explaining to each other everything that had happened to them since they had last been in each other's company. They talked in the corner of the sitting room and they talked when the party went to the theater. She went down the hallway in the midst of the night with only a candle and the two sat up on Jane's bed and talked into the wee hours.

At the theater, they saw Mr. Bingley, also, which was horrifying.

Elizabeth pretended not to see him and walked on, but Jane was not good at this sort of thing, so she stopped and spoke to him, and she said he was very polite and complimented her gown and asked after her family's health and seemed disappointed to discover Jane would not be in town but was leaving immediately for Kent.

Was it Mr. Bingley who carried the tale of their destination to Mr. Darcy?

Elizabeth would never know.

Perhaps it was a coincidence that Mr. Darcy came to visit his aunt.

At any rate, Elizabeth was now readily informed about all that had happened between her sister and Mr. Wickham.

It seemed that Mr. Wickham had become quite the guest at Longbourn. A favorite of Mrs. Bennet because he teased her in much the same way he teased all women even though she was old enough to be his own mother and quite very married, he was often invited for dinner or afternoon tea. He was with them all so much that Jane said he had begun to feel like a member of the family, rather like the brother that none of them had ever had.

She said that Wickham confided in her that he had felt as if he'd lost his own family.

After the business with Miss Darcy, his own father had essentially disowned him. He'd once been doted upon and indulged by the elder Mr. Darcy, but that man had died. The younger Mr. Darcy hated him. He was alone and frightened in the world, and he felt as if he'd found a home with them in Longbourn.

"Lizzy, sometimes he talked as if we were already married," said Jane. "As if he assumed it was a foregone conclusion."

"And then he went off with this Miss King person?"

"Oh, heaven knows, we would have had to eat air if he had married me," said Jane. "There would have been little for us, and I do understand why he must do what he must. It is important not to starve."

"I know you cannot hate him," said Elizabeth. "But I think I shall hate him for you."

Jane laughed. "Must I hate Mr. Bingley for you, then?"

"No, I am doing just fine hating him all on my own," said Elizabeth, laughing, too.

It was only to Jane that Elizabeth admitted there was any merit to anything that Mr. Bingley had said, that she did feel strangely drawn to Mr. Darcy.

"When you were with Mr. Wickham," Elizabeth said quietly, "did you ever feel… did you ever sort of notice his, erm, his physical presence?"

"Yes?" said Jane.

"But did it ever entice you?"

"Yes?" said Jane, as if this was quite obvious and everyone who had ever been in love with anyone had felt such a thing.

Elizabeth wondered if the fact that she had not been enticed by Mr. Bingley had perhaps been more of a problem than she had thought.

Well, it was all over now. She was not to marry Mr. Bingley. She was free of all of that.

Now, she was in Kent, staying at the Hunsford parsonage. Now, she and everyone in the party were being invited to dine at Rosings, with Lady Catherine, in her very large house, and now, there was no point in thinking about men at all, enticing or not.

The dining room in Rosings was a grand, grand room, very large, with a table that would seat at least forty people. For this dinner, they all sat at one end of it.

Lady Catherine presided at the head of the table, a woman who had likely never been exactly beautiful, but had always been handsome in a fearsome way. Even now, she had a presence that seemed to make one wish to sit up straight and enunciate one's words.

She conducted what amounted to a bit of an exacting interview during the first time they dined there. Did the Misses Bennets play and sing, she wished to know.

Elizabeth said, "Oh, badly, very badly, I'm afraid," a sort of joke.

Lady Catherine did not laugh. "One does not get better unless one practices. And you, Miss Bennet, you also play?" This was directed at Jane.

"No," said Jane. "I'm afraid I don't."

"Well, you must do something else, then? You draw? Or paint?"

"I'm embarrassed to say that I do not," said Jane, bowing her head. "What your ladyship must be thinking. Dreadful, really."

Lady Catherine narrowed her eyes, tilting her head to one side. "Well, this is the fault of your governess, I think, Miss Bennet."

"We never had a governess," said Jane.

"No governess?" Lady Catherine had to stop and take a drink, she was so overcome by this idea.

"We had books," put in Elizabeth. "All the masters one might need to instruct anybody in anything at all. If a person wishes to be idle, however, she will be."

"Now, that is not true," said Lady Catherine, lifting her fork and pointing it at Elizabeth. "Miss Elizabeth, a governess will prevent idleness." She turned back to Jane. "If I had known your mother, I should have advised her most strenuously to engage one. You see, if only I had been there, all should have been rectified."

Elizabeth snorted.

Lady Catherine turned to look at her.

Elizabeth coughed, very hard. "Pardon me, your ladyship."

"I am so very sorry we were not acquainted at that point," said Jane earnestly, as if she truly believed this. Elizabeth knew her sister well enough to know that she, in fact, did. "I'm sure someone like your ladyship is equipped with quite a great deal of helpful advice."

"Oh, I am," said Lady Catherine to Jane. "Why, just last week, I spoke to Miss Granger at church, and she was thanking me ever so much for my advice to her. She said that she treasured it. Truly, those were her precise words. ‘Lady Catherine, I treasure your words of advice.' Just exactly that way. You may confirm it with Anne. She was there. Anne?"

Everyone at the table turned to look at Anne de Bourgh, who was reading a book under the table. "Yes, Mama?" said Anne, without looking up.

"You remember what Miss Granger said to me last week after the morning services?"

"That you were a treasure or something to that effect, yes?" said Anne, turning the page of her book.

"Anne, have you brought a novel to the dinner table?"

"No, Mama," said Anne.

"Anne, please look at me."

Anne lifted her gaze, smiling widely. "Yes, Mama?"

"Give me that book."

Anne closed the book and handed it to Mr. Collins, who was seated next to her. "Give this to my mother?"

"Anne would have been very accomplished at playing the piano if her health had allowed it," said Lady Catherine.

"Mmm, I'm incredibly sickly," said Anne with a shrug. She picked up her glass of wine and drained it.

Lady Catherine snatched the book from Mr. Collins and slammed it down on the table. She turned to Jane. "Are your sisters out?"

"Oh, yes, all of us," said Jane.

"All of you?" said Lady Catherine. "The younger ones too?"

"Yes," said Jane.

"I'm glad you're both here at Rosings," said Lady Catherine. "You must stay as long as you possibly can, really, so that I may exert some influence on the wayward paths your lives are taking, Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth. I confess, I see why Mr. Collins felt the need to chose outside your family."

Elizabeth drew back, stung by the insult.

But Jane only nodded. "Yes, we are grateful for any help you might provide us, Lady Catherine."

"As you can see," offered Anne, "my mother's advice is, you know, a treasure trove. Why, look at me ."

"Anne, quiet," said Lady Catherine. "You're too sickly to offer opinions."

"Mmm," said Anne. "I may be too sickly to do anything but read, in fact."

Lady Catherine glared at her but she handed the book to Mr. Collins, who handed it back to Anne, who opened it up right on the table in front of everyone and ignored everything else that anyone said.

Elizabeth rather liked Anne de Bourgh, she had to admit.

"Now, how old are you both?" said Lady Catherine to Jane and Elizabeth.

Elizabeth thought this was a rather rude, to simply come out with this, but Jane answered straightaway, without any seeming thought to it.

"I am two and twenty, and my sister is twenty," she said. "You mustn't get the impression, Lady Catherine, that our mother cares nothing for propriety. It is not that way at all. I think she would have loved to have employed a governess or to have taken us to town every year or to have us all painting and drawing. But my father, you see, he has very precise opinions of things."

"Yes, and objections to expense, as all men do," said Lady Catherine. "But that is prudent, of course, with so many daughters to see to, I suppose. Still, one governess would have done for all of you. Do you wish to learn to play the piano-forte, Miss Bennet?"

"Oh, of course, I should quite enjoy such a thing," said Jane, smiling. "I am afraid that I was always too timid to try. I did not wish to hurt anyone's ears with my initial attempts. "

Was this true? Elizabeth turned to Jane, wishing her sister might have said something. She had to admit it sounded quite like Jane, being too reticent to go after what she liked. Elizabeth realized that she had little problem in this area, and this was a difference between them. Had she only known, she would have provided the necessary encouragement.

"Well," said Lady Catherine, "you must come and practice here, then. We have an instrument near Mrs. Jenkinson's apartments. You will be in no one's way there, and no one will be bothered by your meanderings. You will come whenever you like, but I should suggest daily if you truly wish to make any headway, and you will play on that instrument. If you need some instruction, your sister can give it to you, I assume. Miss Elizabeth, you know the basics?"

"If my sister wishes to learn, I should be happy to assist her, of course," said Elizabeth.

Jane turned on her, beaming with a smile that was so bright it hurt Elizabeth somewhere. She had not known that Jane had been hiding away so much, but she should have realized she was.

"I must say, I like you, Miss Bennet," said Lady Catherine to Jane. "You seem to me to be so very kind and very sweet. You are a treasure."

"Well," said Anne. "High praise."

Lady Catherine ignored her. "I shall do what I can for you, Miss Bennet. It would be my pleasure."