Chapter 12

Twelve

With cold fingers, Elizabeth held fast to her bonnet as the phaeton lurched ahead and raced along the lane. Above the clatter of ponies' hooves, she heard Mr Darcy's shout as his horse gave chase.

Miss de Bourgh's voice rose above the carriage's rattles and the rushing wind. "Can you keep a secret?"

Elizabeth did not want to become embroiled in any further subterfuge. "Yes, I can . But I choose not to hear whatever you wish to divulge. Please do not involve me in your intrigues."

When the heiress took her eyes off the road and glanced at her, Elizabeth wondered whether the remorseful look spoke of guilt or of regret.

Eyes fixed straight ahead then, Miss de Bourgh masterfully steered her ponies past the parsonage and towards Rosings.

"You are coming home with me. With you by my side, neither Mother nor Darcy will dare chastise me. Besides, I wish to show you the glorious gown I shall wear to the ball." Reaching over, she covered Elizabeth's bare hand with her gloved one and beseeched, "Stay with me. Please."

Botheration! On second thought, she realised Mrs Collins would be at Mr Chapman's with her basketful of foodstuffs, and Elizabeth wanted to avoid being alone with Mr Collins and his prattle. It was a draw, but as long as Miss de Bourgh did not solicit her involvement in any sort of collusion, Elizabeth would rather spend time with Mr Darcy's cousin than with her own.

"Why yes, I shall be delighted."

When Elizabeth walked into the parlour arm-in-arm with Miss de Bourgh, Lady Catherine's air was even more than customarily ungracious. Her ladyship's beady eyes burnt as brightly and looked twice as hard as the gemstones flashing upon her fingers.

Deigning to grace Elizabeth with a slight inclination of her head, Lady Catherine spoke with stiff politeness. "Miss Bennet, I was not expecting you."

"She is my guest, Mother." Miss de Bourgh offered Elizabeth an apology, a seat, and refreshments. The first two were accepted, the latter politely declined.

Lady Catherine spoke in hushed tones. "Where have you been, Anne?"

The heavy tread of boots, echoing from the great hall and drawing near the parlour, belonged to Mr Darcy, who then appeared in the doorway.

"Ladies." He bowed but said he could not join them. "I have urgent business to which I must attend. Just in time for spring planting, I am afraid I have summarily dismissed Gilchrist from employment here at Rosings and must find a replacement. I shall explain later." He bowed again. "Miss Bennet." With that, he turned away.

Miss de Bourgh jumped to her feet, and her pinched face turned an alarming shade of red. Then she dashed to the door in a flurry of voluminous riding-habit skirts. "Darcy, stop right there! What did you say to Gilchrist? I hope you did not offend him. He does not appreciate anyone questioning either his knowledge or his integrity. Besides, you cannot send Gilchrist away. He is my employee, and I shall not have it! Do you hear me?"

Certain she had heard the gentleman reply ‘No' before the bickering cousins moved down the hall, Elizabeth—barely stifling a giggle—bowed her head and bit her lip. Once she had herself under control, she said, "My apologies, Lady Catherine, but with your permission, I should return to the parsonage now."

The instant Elizabeth stood to make an eager escape, Lady Catherine raised her voice. "Not so hasty, if you please. Where did you and Anne go today? I warn you, I am not to be trifled with. Though I had not thought you lost to every feeling of propriety and delicacy, I suspect you somehow have led my daughter astray. If Sir Lewis were still alive, he would be turning over in his grave!"

At Elizabeth's grin, Lady Catherine's eyes narrowed into slits. "I fail to find humour in this, young lady! Now, I insist upon knowing the truth. Were the two of you at Gilchrist's cottage? Did you leave Anne alone there with that man?"

Perhaps at her ladyship's age—no doubt similar to Mama's—one tends towards captiousness. Both of them certainly have no difficulty finding fault with me. "We paid a call there to collect anemones, but the gardener was not at home."

Breathless, Miss de Bourgh rushed back into the room. "Miss Bennet, I beg your pardon for abandoning you. Oh! Surely, you are not leaving, are you?"

Elizabeth nodded. "I feel I must."

"No. No, you cannot go without seeing my gown." Miss de Bourgh tugged Elizabeth's arm. "Come up to my apartments, please."

Thinking her rather pitiable, Elizabeth had not the heart to deny the entreaty. She seems so desperate for a friend.

As the two young ladies ascended the grand staircase, Miss de Bourgh had yet to let go of Elizabeth's arm. "Would you henceforth call me Anne?"

"If you wish. But, in turn, you must call me Elizabeth." She could not lament the acquaintance. Surely, it was not pity she felt but something more meaningful—the burgeoning of true friendship. In addition to being of an age, they shared something else in common. Ignominious mothers.

"Miss de Bourgh, Anne , speaking of gowns, I had no notion of attending a ball when my trunks were packed. However, I did bring one I wore last November at a private ball at which Mr Darcy and I stood up together for a set. So he has seen––"

Stepping away, Anne turned to face her. "I distinctly remember your telling me he did not dance with you because you were not handsome enough to tempt him. Good heavens, my friend! If that cousin of mine danced with you, conferring that special importance I mentioned, that means he likes you!"

Taking her by the arm again, she tut-tutted. "Do not fret. My lady's maid, Dubois, is adept with needle and thread. I shall have her embellish your gown in such a way that Darcy will not recognise it." Elizabeth demurred, but her protests fell upon deaf ears.

As they moved through the manor's maze of wings, galleries, and long passages with rooms opening off them, Elizabeth became entirely disoriented. If ever left to find my way out of this place, I might never escape. They will find my desiccated skeleton in some closet or other. With shelves, no doubt.

Eventually shown through Anne's apartments, Elizabeth thought them everything that money and good taste could provide.

Seated then in the commodious dressing room, the luxury of her surroundings faded to inconsequence when Anne proudly held up a sleek gown of ivory taffeta.

"Imagine, if you will, Elizabeth, this garment devoid of all its beautiful embroidery. That would be the gown my mother, even now, expects me to wear to the ball. But clever Dubois here"—she indicated the maid standing in the shadows—"spent endless hours sewing these narrow, indigo stripes and this spiralling, floral pattern upon it."

With a deep-blue fabric draped over one arm, the lady's maid stepped into the light. "Ah, but my masterpiece is this addition which I have yet to finish embellishing," she said in a faint French accent.

Anne took the darker garment and wrapped it round the gown, fastening it beneath the bodice. "Voilà! It is now an open robe. And do you see how Dubois has copied the gown's design onto the robe but in golden threads? It will shimmer in candlelight." She swayed the gown back and forth, making the robe billow. "But what is truly exciting is that, behind closed doors, I have been embroidering?—"

Dubois cleared her throat. "Mademoiselle?"

"Oh Dubois! Surely we can let Elizabeth know of our?—"

From somewhere in the apartments, Lady Catherine's voice calling for her daughter sent employer and maid into a flurry of activity, and they disappeared with the gown to secret it away.

While Elizabeth waited for Anne's return, Lady Catherine entered the dressing room. "Miss Bennet! Now what have you done with my daughter?"