Chapter Seventeen

Three mornings after the child’s birth, Jane Collins and her son were judged fit enough to walk across the park, attended assiduously by Mr. Collins, the sisters of Mrs. Collins, several footmen, two maids, and Mr. Darcy himself.

After they had reached the parsonage and Darcy saw Jane settled onto a divan, preparing once more to feed the infant, he took his leave.

He smiled warmly at Elizabeth and gained in turn a similar smile. Just looking at her made him feel warm and happy. His stomach still jumped every time their eyes met.

Everything in his life was filled with a warm glow.

Then he left Elizabeth to make her announcements while he went to make the most difficult of his own. Most of his announcements had of course already been made.

Colonel Fitzwilliam had deduced the matter, the deuced fellow. The previous day Darcy had written letters to Georgiana, to his uncle, Lord Matlock, to Mrs. Reynolds, to Mr. Bingley, to several other friends, and finally he’d sent in the money to have an announcement printed in The Times .

From what he understood, Elizabeth had sent off her letters already as well.

All that was left was to tell Lady Catherine, and then he would speak to those of his servants who were present at the estate. And finally, Emily, but he and Elizabeth had determined that they would tell the girl together. Given Emily’s increasing attachment to Lizzy — the previous morning Be-ne had transformed somehow into Lizzy, though the pronunciation had an adorable lisp — Darcy foresaw no objections from that little person. Especially not if she was given a lemon tart, a chance to read a book, and a game with a ball along with the announcement.

Upon his entry to the house, Darcy found Lady Catherine in the drawing room, and he asked if he might speak with her in private. The two of them withdrew to one of her sitting rooms.

Lady Catherine’s surly expression suggested to Darcy that she might not be wholly surprised by what he was to say, though they had attempted to act less affectionately together when in front of her.

“Nephew, what do you have to say?”

“Madam, I wish for you to know that I have agreed to marry Elizabeth Bennet.”

Lady Catherine was silent.

From her expression Darcy suspected that whatever it was that she’d thought he would say, this was not it. At last, she said, “I am not unaware of her connections. She has family in trade, and the rest are of no consequence, except for Mr. Collins, and she has no fortune.”

“I was already aware of her situation in life,” Darcy replied.

“You said, you said to everyone — to my brother, to my sister-in-law, even to me, that you would never marry again. You said you would never marry again. Have you no concern for my grandchild?”

“Emily will be happy to have Miss Bennet in her life.”

“And you shall replace her true mother! Is the shade of my daughter to be thus disrespected? For a descendent of the Fitzwilliam and de Bourgh lines to be replaced by Miss Nobody, the daughter of No One?”

“If you wish to see matters in such a way, I cannot prevent you from doing so.”

“But have you no respect for Anne’s memory? Is she already forgotten? You said you would honour her.”

“I only now have begun to honour her as she wished to be honoured. She told me as she died that she wished me to marry again, and to make myself happy.”

Lady Catherine seemed to stagger at hearing that. She rocked back and forth and then closed her eyes. A deep set frown. “So, she spat upon me once again as she died. Why did she hate me so? Did she say that before or after she knew that it was a daughter?”

“I do not believe that she thought of you at all.”

“She was dying!” Lady Catherine slammed her hand on the side of her chair. “Dying! — of course her mind was upon her mother. Where else would it be?”

“On her daughter, on her husband. On the Almighty.”

Lady Catherine sneered. “She told you that to mock me, to mock my goals. That is also why she gave the girl that horrid name.”

“I like Emily.”

“She named it after her doll!”

“Lady Catherine, as much as it pains me to see how you think upon the matter, I shall never see it likewise.”

Darcy recalled then that Anne had thought about and mentioned Lady Catherine once in her final words. She had made Darcy promise to not let her mother have any part in Emily’s education.

To tell the old woman that would be both unkind, and only serve to convince Lady Catherine that her daughter was mocking her and spitting in her face as she died.

The poor pathetic woman.

Lady Catherine slumped inwards. “And it is done. You have made her the offer, and she has agreed. There is nothing to be done. Nothing to be done. But you have full disposal of the estates — you could tie Pemberley to Emily, even if Miss Bennet bears you a son. Then Rosings and Pemberley would at least be united. Something would be gained for all my efforts.”

“I shall not do that. You know that I shall not.”

“Miss Bennet’s low cunning is astonishing. I showed her kindness. I spoke with her. I even once unburdened my heart to her.”

“Whatever confidences you gave, she has shared none of them with me.”

“And you, like any senseless bull, have been drawn in by her arts and allurements. What did she do to make you forget your duty?”

“She was kind and my friend.”

“Ha! That lively energetic girl? She knew how you looked at her, believe me she did.”

“There is nothing amiss in that. Men and women were made by the Almighty to look towards each other. She should feel no guilt in liking that I like the look of her.”

“I know that there is nothing I can do. But know that I do not approve. I know that you do not wish to have my blessing. But I will recognize Miss Bennet as Mrs. Darcy, and I will visit after she is married. The world will see that there is no breach.”

“I thank you,” Darcy replied.

Some part of him had hoped that Lady Catherine would break off relations, but he suspected that was unlikely, since it was clear that as frustrating as Darcy found it to protect Emily from her grandmother’s orders and complaints, Lady Catherine was, in her own way, delighted to have Emily nearby. And Darcy was not a man who could wholly prevent a grandmother from seeing her only living descendent without strict necessity.

“I was never disappointed in you ,” Lady Catherine said then. “A little now. If you determined that you must marry, you could have done better by far than Miss Bennet.”

“I could have found no one who suited me better.”

“Young lovers, always speaking nonsense. Foolishness. I thought you were made of sterner stuff. But no man can ever resist the charm of a too pretty woman.”

That was unfair, Darcy thought, he had certainly resisted the charms of a great many women. Though perhaps none of them had been “too pretty” whatever that might mean.

“It is Anne who disappointed me. She could not survive one birth. Almost every woman survives at least one . I survived three! She could not present you with a son — she could not ensure that Pemberley would stay with the Fitzwilliam family, she could not—”

“You may have forgotten,” Darcy replied, “that I am also a Fitzwilliam.”

“Half of Emily’s blood is from my parents. What children you have with Miss Bennet will only have a quarter of it.”

There was really nothing that Darcy had to say to that, beyond the simple point that it was not a thing which made him unhappy.

“I did everything I ought to have,” Lady Catherine said. “Everything in life. I always performed my duties. Yet the Almighty cursed me with such a girl. I deserved a better daughter.”

“No, Anne deserved a better mother.” Darcy stood to walk from the room. He had no interest in anything further Lady Catherine might say.

But despite that, ingrained politeness and the long taught belief that he ought to show respect to his family members made Darcy stop for a brief moment when Lady Catherine exclaimed, “Wait! Fitzwilliam!”

Darcy turned to look at her.

“I pray you’ll never need to know in my grandchild, or in any child that you have with Miss Bennet, the deep disappointment I have known. No parent deserves to know that their child was wholly unworthy of their care.”

“Nothing. Nothing,” Darcy snarled at his aunt, “Nothing Emily could ever do would make her deserve such an attitude as you hold towards Anne. I loved Anne, I admired her, and she was kind, good and sweet. You were a tyrant, and by God. By God, I shall ensure that Emily is never in your presence without myself or Elizabeth to shield her from what viciousness you might teach her. Good day.”