Chapter 4

E lizabeth was furious with Charlotte for assuming that she would confront Mr Darcy. Yet, within the depths of her soul, she had the same fear. In the drawing-room or the library at Netherfield, where they had discussed topics, she had long debated with her father, she remained Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn. However, at Rosings, she realised she had become Mr Collins’s ‘dear cousin’, and, most unsettlingly, his status in Lady Catherine’s household was quite uncertain.

Her eagerness to meet new people in the elegant setting of Rosings almost vanished as she recalled that each time they dined there, the mistress of the house made every effort to emphasise her superiority. Her discourse disturbingly echoed the words Elizabeth had heard from her ladyship’s nephew’s lips at the Meryton assembly—that she was not handsome enough to tempt him.

Yet, as she gazed into the mirror, she saw a woman who could tempt him. Despite her usual modesty and indifference to fashion, she was pleased with her appearance. She owed thanks to her aunt Mrs Gardiner, who had generously gifted all the ladies of Longbourn with new gowns for Christmas, and to Charlotte’s maid, who had worked wonders with her hair.

Although she had worn the gown at a previous dinner at Rosings, she retrieved a pale pink shawl from her trunk, a gift from her sister Jane, which added a touch of elegance to her attire. After one last glance in the mirror and a graceful pirouette, she descended the stairs to join the others in the parlour, her confidence in facing the evening now somewhat restored.

Regrettably, the awkward encounter she had dreaded at Rosings occurred not in the grand house itself but in the Parsonage. As she appeared before the placid and indifferent Mr Collins, he exclaimed, “Dear cousin, you look quite smart!”

Elizabeth was shocked, unable to utter a word. When she turned her gaze towards Charlotte, she saw her friend seething with anger. It took her a moment to grasp the situation. Then, amidst the oppressive silence during the carriage ride to Rosings, she realised that Charlotte was indeed displeased with her husband’s response.

Oh , Elizabeth thought with genuine regret, the poor girl is almost jealous!

Fortunately, Maria remained unaware of the tension in the carriage and began to chatter animatedly about the forthcoming dinner. Meanwhile, Elizabeth’s unease about the impending meeting deepened .

She recollected the last dinner they had attended at Rosings, where they had joined the party in Lady Catherine’s drawing-room at a proper hour. Her ladyship had received them with a semblance of civility, though it was evident their company was only tolerated because it was all that could be had. The evening had been filled with a flow of questions, all aimed at ascertaining that her parents had made huge mistakes in raising their daughters without a governess or tutor.

Stepping into the exquisite drawing-room now, Elizabeth made an effort to calm her nerves. To her surprise, she was met with smiles all round. Even the usually aloof Lady Catherine displayed an almost benevolent expression.

The butler announced her name, and the smiles in the room did not wane. On the contrary, when it was her turn to curtsey, a well-known voice presented her to Mrs Barstow and introduced Colonel Fitzwilliam. Then Mr Darcy smiled at her, again—for the tenth time since her arrival.

Only then did Elizabeth allow her anguish to fade away, suddenly feeling that her presence was expected with interest.

What is happening , Mr Darcy? Her mind raced with questions, but ultimately, it did not matter. Even Mr Collins failed to reassert Lady Catherine’s dominance over the gathering, as no one paid any heed to him or his patroness.

Mrs Barstow took Elizabeth’s arm, leading her to the dining-room, away from Lady Catherine’s imposing presence. Other guests were still arriving, but the elderly lady whispered in the most familiar way, “Come, Miss Bennet, you can meet them later. Let us find seats where we can converse easily.”

Elizabeth heard Mr Darcy and his cousin laughing behind them as they eavesdropped on the ladies’ conversation.

Led by Mrs Barstow, Elizabeth took her seat towards one end of the table, as far from the mistress of the house as possible, making her wonder why this lady was being so friendly to her.

The two cousins were less fortunate, obliged to sit next to Lady Catherine, her orders impossible to disregard. Mr Darcy’s eyes sought out Elizabeth’s, but there was little that could be done. Fortunately, that evening’s gathering was relatively small, allowing them to participate in the same conversation.

Elizabeth admired the room, delighted by the fine table, and polished plates and glasses beneath the glow of the chandeliers. Rosings appeared in the most resplendent way.

“Catherine may have her faults, but she certainly knows how to host a dinner!” Mrs Barstow remarked. “When did you arrive in Kent?”

“Almost two weeks ago,” Elizabeth replied, surprised that Mr Darcy’s aunt knew she did not reside there.

“And what brings you here?” the lady asked, genuinely interested.

“I am visiting my childhood friend Charlotte, who is now the wife of Mr Collins,” Elizabeth replied discreetly, gesturing towards Charlotte.

“Yes, yes, Darcy told me,” Mrs Barstow said .

Elizabeth tried hard to hide the surprise on her face, but it was impossible to conceal her startle from the eyes of the pleasant old lady, who laughed with much benevolence. “Even men share confidences!”

Elizabeth looked again towards the other end of the table, where Mr Darcy and his cousin talked; they were remarkably similar and obviously close friends.

“I am Darcy’s aunt,” Mrs Barstow said unexpectedly, drawing Elizabeth’s attention back to her. “Yes, they are like two schoolboys on holiday. They have been inseparable since birth. Richard, the colonel, is even more attached to Darcy than he is to his own brother. There is only a few months’ difference in age between them.”

“You are quite far away,” Lady Catherine interjected, addressing Mrs Barstow. “I shall have to shout for you to hear me!”

“We can hear you perfectly well, dear, without you shouting,” Mrs Barstow replied. Elizabeth could hardly believe anyone in the world would address Lady Catherine so familiarly, and the evening suddenly took an intriguing turn. When she glanced back towards the other end of the table, she caught Mr Darcy’s gaze fixed on her as though he had a message to convey. She smiled but could not imagine what he might wish to tell her.

“Well, Miss Bennet, now we can have a little chat. Tell me more about yourself,” Mrs Barstow said.

“What would you like to know about me?” Elizabeth asked graciously.

But Lady Catherine’s vehement interruption from the opposite end of the table halted their conversation. “What are you whispering about there? This intimate dinner is meant for everyone to engage in the same conversation!”

“I was asking Miss Bennet about herself,” Mrs Barstow replied calmly. “I enjoy meeting the younger generation of accomplished ladies who have aspirations beyond merely being good wives and mothers.”

“And what might these aspirations be?” Lady Catherine grumbled. “I believe women have always wanted to be mothers and wives without complaint. I fail to see how you can judge Miss Bennet as accomplished when she has barely uttered a word.”

“That was what I intended to discover if you would allow her to speak,” Mrs Barstow countered. The others around the table froze, seemingly unable to grasp the relationship between the two ladies. But surprisingly, Lady Catherine was silenced by this—an unexpected turn of events.

“I cannot say whether I am accomplished, as you suggest, Mrs Barstow—”

“You are, Miss Bennet! I have some pertinent information regarding the young ladies from Hertfordshire,” she said, glancing at Mr Darcy.

“Oh!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “I did not anticipate such favourable remarks about the young ladies from Hertfordshire .”

Mrs Barstow’s insight was only about Elizabeth. Still, she was a woman of the world and knew how to save a situation. “And why this modesty, Miss Bennet? Looking at you and Mrs Collins, anyone could deduce that Hertfordshire boasts some attractive young ladies.”

“Being attractive is not the same as being accomplished,” Lady Catherine interjected.

“Well, then,” Mr Darcy replied, “I can vouch for both Mrs Collins’s and Miss Bennet’s accomplishments.” Elizabeth silently thanked him while Charlotte blushed with pleasure at being included in such a compliment. Elizabeth hoped her friend had forgotten Mr Collins’s earlier remark in the parlour, but Charlotte still avoided looking at her, even though her husband was the guilty party.

“Thank you, Mr Darcy,” Charlotte murmured.

Despite Mrs Barstow’s skilful attempts to steer the conversation away, they were left to endure Lady Catherine’s relentless questioning. She delved into Charlotte’s domestic concerns familiarly and minutely, gave her a great deal of advice as to the management of them all, told her how everything ought to be regulated in so small a family as hers, and instructed her as to the care of her cows and her poultry. Elizabeth found nothing was beneath this great lady’s attention, which could give her an occasion to dictate to others. Then, she addressed a variety of questions to Maria and Elizabeth. As these topics also interested Mrs Barstow, she let Lady Catherine continue her enquiry. She wanted to know whether Elizabeth’s sisters were older or younger than herself, whether any of them were likely to be married, whether they were handsome, where they had been educated, what carriage her father kept, and what had been her mother’s maiden name. Elizabeth felt all the impertinence of her questions but answered them very composedly.

“Your father’s estate, Miss Bennet, is entailed on Mr Collins, I believe,” pronounced Lady Catherine, her words emerging quite abruptly and far from the subject of their current conversation. Her aim, unmistakably, was to continue leading the discussion. “Yet for your sake,” she continued, her gaze shifting to Charlotte, “I am glad—”

“Catherine,” interjected Mrs Barstow with a vehemence that belied her previously amiable demeanour, “this topic is hardly suitable for the dinner table!”

“And why not?” asked Lady Catherine. “It is a predicament not unfamiliar to many, though, I confess, we have never faced such concerns in our family.”

“You ask me why?” retorted Mrs Barstow. “I shall tell you. The notion of entail, or any such practice that directs inheritance exclusively to male heirs, is entirely unjust.”

A profound silence engulfed the room, the weight of Mrs Barstow’s words hanging heavily in the air.

“I can only agree,” spoke a voice from the opposite end of the table. It was Colonel Fitzwilliam. “But the matter extends beyond male heirs. It affects second sons like me—”

“And daughters, such as I,” added Mrs Barstow. “In a woman’s case, regardless of her position in the family, she is invariably overlooked.”

“Women are supposed to marry,” said Lord Metcalf, who possessed an estate close to Rosings.

“And she is supposed to bring a certain dowry when she comes from a wealthy family!” Mrs Barstow said in such a jesting tone that Elizabeth looked at her with interest.

Mrs Barstow’s remark piqued Elizabeth’s curiosity, leading her to wonder about the lady’s connection to Mr Darcy .

“The issue transcends mere inheritance laws,” Elizabeth ventured. “It is more about a father’s regard for his children, regardless of gender. I am convinced that had my father’s estate not been entailed, he would have endeavoured to divide it equitably amongst his daughters.”

“Estates are ruined by dividing them,” Lady Catherine declared. “These laws exist to maintain an estate’s integrity.”

“They are unjust when they cause harm to rightful heirs,” interjected Mr Darcy, to Elizabeth’s surprise. “Why are you astonished, Miss Bennet?” he continued, noticing her response while she wondered how closely he had been observing her to see the expression on her face.

“I am surprised because you are the master of a large estate. Would you divide it equally among, say, five children?”

“I would not sell Pemberley if that was the question,” Mr Darcy responded, “but I believe in fair distribution of wealth among all my children, as my parents did.”

“Enough of this matter,” Lady Catherine abruptly concluded.

“Yes, enough,” echoed Mrs Barstow, her voice tinged with a hint of frustration. Elizabeth caught her eye, and the lady nodded. “Old, long story…perhaps one day you will hear it.”

Elizabeth wondered again why this lady was so friendly. She was Mr Darcy’s aunt, probably on his father’s side, and that could mean only that the aloofness was not a family trait or due to their social circle. Still, some people were afflicted with it like an illness. Looking at the other end of the table, she wondered if it was, after all, a temporary ailment, for she observed Mr Darcy speaking and smiling and looking at her from time to time as if it had always been that way.

“Do you play and sing, Miss Bennet?” asked Lady Catherine.

“A little,” Elizabeth replied.

“Oh! Then we must have the pleasure of hearing you. Our instrument must be superior to what you have at home. Do your sisters play and sing?”

Elizabeth could not help but fear that particular moment when the ladies withdrew. The separation of the sexes at Rosings signalled the beginning of a tedious period, as Lady Catherine’s never-ending monologues often induced drowsiness among the ladies after the rich dinner they had just eaten.

However, on this specific evening, a pleasant diversion awaited Elizabeth. Instead of entering the drawing-room, Mrs Barstow invited her to the music room, explaining to the rest of the party that Elizabeth wished to rehearse her musical repertoire before performing. Without waiting to hear Lady Catherine’s expected objections, they quickly retreated, hearing her ladyship’s voice protesting and calling them back as the door closed behind them.

Elizabeth looked gratefully at Mrs Barstow, who responded with an amused smile. “I was a friend of Fitzwilliam’s mother, yet I came to befriend Catherine only when Anne died…if you are wondering how we came to be friends.”

She smiled, but there was a hint of malice in her words, as the two older ladies were obviously quite different.

“Oh, I would not have dared to question your friendship,” Elizabeth said. “Besides, people change. A dear friend can become estranged because life takes her in another direction…not bad but different, and then friendship is just a name. Charlotte—”

Elizabeth paused, overwhelmed by embarrassment as she was about to make a not-so-pleasant confession to a near stranger.

“Miss Bennet, I am more than thirty years your senior, and with age comes the ability to discern the thoughts and sentiments of those around us.” Mrs Barstow laughed, and Elizabeth smiled in return as she took her seat at the pianoforte.

Elizabeth began to play while, to her delight, Mrs Barstow continued their conversation.

“Let us put you at ease, Miss Bennet. I am Fitzwilliam’s father’s first cousin. Our fathers were brothers, and as is usual, our grandfather determined that his eldest son would inherit Pemberley. In contrast, my father received only a small allowance, so he was compelled to pursue a career in the military. Colonel Fitzwilliam mentioned the difficulties of being a second son during dinner, but I assure you that his situation is far more favourable than my father’s.His mother, Lady Matlock, dotes on him and is entirely devoted to securing his future. Even if the title and estate go to his elder brother, the colonel will still enjoy a comfortable life thanks to his mother’s efforts. She would go to great lengths to ensure her son’s safety and well-being. Lady Matlock will never allow anybody to send her son to the battlefield. She is ready to take the Commander-in-Chief of the Army to her bedroom to keep her son safe.”

A minor disruption in the beautiful music prompted Mrs Barstow to pause and observe Elizabeth closely; she was concentrating on the keys, her face and neck on fire. It took Mrs Barstow a few moments to understand Elizabeth’s discomfort. She had spent most of her life in London, where young ladies of twenty-one were well-versed in the art of seduction—and more. This intelligent, witty, and cultured young woman possessed an unexpected quality that few of her peers had—purity. And that discovery hugely pleased the older lady, who smiled with satisfaction.

She had wanted to meet Elizabeth because, during her time at Mr Darcy’s London residence, she had overheard some unintentional yet revealing remarks made by that gentleman about Hertfordshire and a particular lady . Furthermore, she had observed his response to the news from Rosings regarding the presence of a certain Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

With a knowing smile, Mrs Barstow continued, “Lady Matlock would move heaven and earth for young Richard. However, that was not the case with my unfortunate father. We lived at Pemberley. I considered it my home as, at that age, you do not understand all the details of a situation. My father died in India when I was ten, and my father’s brother, who was the master by that time, blamed my mother—irrationally, as she could not possibly have been at fault. We left for London, and you can judge for yourself when I tell you that I utterly understand your situation. Of course, you are blessed to have your father, and I hope he will be with you for a long time. But our life in London was not easy.”

“Oh, I am truly sorry to hear that. You can be sure I understand. The entail is a burden to us all—not only my parents,” Elizabeth said, touched by the difficult confession and the openness of the lady, even though she did not fully understand why she felt the need to share such intimate details with her.

“And now I arrive at my friendship with Anne. Lady Anne as she and Lady Catherine are Lord Matlock’s daughters. I met Anne at their estate, twenty miles from Pemberley, and we became friends on the spot. Then, as her family lived mostly in London, our friendship deepened. When I was eighteen, my uncle died, Fitzwilliam’s father became the master of Pemberley, and the first thing he did was to call us back. And if you were wondering why I am telling you family secrets, now you have the answer—I wanted you to understand how generous and kind the Darcys are. My cousin, George Darcy, was a grumpy bear with a heart of gold, while Lady Anne Darcy was an angel on Earth, sharing kindness and helping everyone. Anne was my only friend.”

“Oh!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “You introduced your cousin to Lady Anne!”

“Exactly,” Mrs Barstow confirmed.

Their conversation was interrupted as the other guests entered the room, taking their seats, eagerly awaiting Elizabeth’s performance.

Mrs Barstow, in a firm tone, directed Mr Darcy to turn the pages, and Elizabeth concealed her smile as his help was unnecessary. Still, she accepted the offer, even though it was unusual; where she was from, such assistance was generally reserved for engaged couples. But it seemed that these people had other habits.

“Miss Bennet,” he addressed her.

“Mr Darcy,” she replied, and they shared a smile that did not go unnoticed by Mrs Barstow as she settled into her own chair, revelling in the joy of bringing two intriguing souls together.

For the first time in her life, Elizabeth felt a trace of nervousness when she placed her hands on the keys. She wanted to excel in an art that she had never truly mastered. In haste, she remembered the few pianoforte lessons she received in Aunt Phillips’s house from a tutor who had come to Meryton with other interests.

“Pay attention to your hand positioning, finger strength, and general technique,” resonated in her head. “ Begin slowly and gradually increase the tempo, and most of all, remember to enjoy the journey of playing the pianoforte .”

She closed her eyes for a few seconds, and when silence descended upon the room, she began playing, imagining it was that tutor and not Mr Darcy next to her.

“Your playing has much improved,” Mr Darcy said with genuine admiration at the end of the short concert.

“Perhaps because she had help with the pages,” Mrs Barstow said, and she observed with satisfaction how both smiled as they looked at each other.