Page 9

A COLLECTIVE SIGH

J ust after noon the following day, a note arrived at Darcy House bidding Darcy and Elizabeth to get themselves to Himdale House at the earliest possible time.

Lady Catherine had ordered she not be disturbed all day by anyone for any reason, as she was scrutinising the plans and descriptions of Kew Gardens in preparation for an excursion the next day to inform the master gardener of all the things he was doing incorrectly.

Lord and Lady Matlock wished to discuss the fate of Elizabeth’s lesson plan whilst she was thus occupied.

“I am weary of being summoned from my own home,” Darcy said after Elizabeth read the message aloud.

She handed the note back to him. “Much as I desire to hear their schemes against Lady Catherine, and much as I wish not to prevaricate to your relations, a trifling cold would be a handy excuse to stay at home.”

“Yes,” he agreed, before looking worriedly at her. “But you are not—you are well, are you not? You said nothing of feeling poorly last evening, or this morning…I was thoughtless and would never have?—”

“Oh, I am glad you did, my love. Last night and an hour ago.” Elizabeth’s warm smile nearly undid him, but then she laughed and patted his hand.

“Perhaps you can invite your aunt and uncle here, instead? And ask the colonel to bring Georgiana as well. I should think them happy to escape their home while it is held by the Rosings invaders.”

Darcy grinned at her. “I believe the Romans were a bit more politic in their occupation, and certainly had better taste. Or perhaps you are suggesting that my aunt and cousin are comparable to Vikings or pirates?”

“I cannot speak to Lady Catherine’s fondness for fjords, but she is quite partial to gold, and from your uncle’s demand for a meeting, it may require quite a battle to bring this incursion to its end.”

Darcy strode to the writing desk and began to pen a reply to his uncle. “Be it through wordplay or swordplay, we shall win this battle.”

Within the hour, the party from Himdale House was ushered into the cosy yellow parlour at Darcy House. The earl’s face was thunderous but softened when Elizabeth rose and greeted him, Darcy noted.

“I hope you do not mind joining us here, Lord Matlock,” she said sweetly.

“Of course, of course,” he replied, examining her closely. “It was clever to hold our meeting here?—”

“To avoid spies.” Fitzwilliam burst into laughter. “Lady Catherine does have a rather sharp-eared lady’s maid skulking about.”

His father nodded and peered again at Elizabeth. “Anne, to no one’s surprise, has stayed in her bed since the ordeal my sister put you through yesterday. I hope you are well.”

“Georgiana and I are made of sterner stuff,” Elizabeth said, pressing her sister’s hand.

Darcy smiled at his wife’s ability to charm his gruff uncle and turned to Lady Matlock. She looked exhausted. He led her to a chair near the fire and offered her a sherry.

“No, I require a drink only when in Catherine’s company,” she said. “I shall need Barnes to restock the cellar before she leaves town.”

Elizabeth took the seat next to Lady Matlock. “And the wig? Has Lady Catherine learnt of its demise?”

“She was in such a temper and so bedraggled after yesterday’s promenade, she has had no time to take inventory?—”

“Or give a hang about my carriage!” roared the earl.

“First she appeared at Himdale House without warning or indication of how long she wished to remain, and now she has ruined my wife’s favourite carriage out of sheer pig-headedness.

There must be consequences! I will not permit her to attend the opera. I will not.”

Good! Darcy had no interest in attending the opera, let alone suffering through Elizabeth being presented and judged on her conduct by his insufferable aunt.

He could not stop himself from glancing at Fitzwilliam.

His uncle’s ire at Lady Catherine was so pronounced, he knew his cousin must be as astonished—and amused—as he.

Indeed, Fitzwilliam was fully engaged and hiding his smile behind his fist.

Lady Matlock shook her head at her husband. “It would be recompense enough if Catherine were to have the carriage repaired. The task could be accomplished in these next colder months when we shall not be in need of an open conveyance.”

“No. It is not enough. You do not know how she was as a girl. She requires a firm hand.”

“She is your younger sister, my dear, but she is no longer a child. Denying her the opportunity to attend the opera seems rather small-minded.”

“And I will not countenance Elizabeth being subjected to yet another of her ridiculous lessons!” Darcy interjected. “Yesterday she nearly killed my wife and sister!”

“We suffered little more than damp gowns and ruined bonnets, my sweet,” protested Elizabeth. “You arrived in the nick of time.”

“You could have become ill, or worse!”

“But I did not, and nor did Georgiana.”

Fitzwilliam thumped his hand on the table. “Beyond Father’s carriage, all is well. Tomorrow, as is her custom every few days, Lady Catherine will go forth and harangue all those shopkeepers and tradesmen who have disappointed or wronged her since she arrived in town.”

“She will not take another of my vehicles,” said Lord Matlock.

“Of course not.” Fitzwilliam shot an amused glance at Darcy and in a voice mimicking his aunt, added, “Her own carriage is the finest in the land, after all.”

“She will not return to Madame Badeaux’s?” Elizabeth asked worriedly.

Lady Matlock shook her head.

“More like Mrs Lucy Beddoes of Manchester, as I hear it,” Darcy snorted. “Castigating merchants and gardeners should occupy her all of tomorrow,” he said, feeling a palpable sense of relief, and some anticipation for having his wife to himself for an entire day.

“If we reckon that each shopkeeper will be berated for ten minutes, and if she might spend upwards of half an hour travelling from one place to the next, I calculate we shall be free of her presence for some three or four hours,” Fitzwilliam concluded.

The earl chuckled. “’Tis a relief for us all.”

“Particularly Anne,” said Fitzwilliam, looking away from his mother’s stern gaze.

There was a long moment of silence, during which Darcy assumed each was thinking their own thoughts about the very demanding Lady Catherine.

His uncle’s reference to her as having long been difficult prompted a distant memory of overhearing his mother speak of her younger sister’s frequent intrusions into her rooms to try on jewellery and bonnets.

The two had been five or six years apart in age—a veritable lifetime in childhood.

The Bennet girls had a scant seven years between them all, so imagine how they must have been on top of one another!

His eyes drifted towards Georgiana, who had been unsurprisingly quiet during the conversation.

She had never experienced the sweet and tart of having a sister.

How happy she is to have Elizabeth as one now!

“I regret that my efforts to promote harmony in the family seem to have led only to more discord,” Elizabeth said calmly.

Before Darcy could assure her that she was faultless in any regard, his wife went on, holding his gaze as she spoke.

“Yet, I should like to see the lessons to completion. I still believe this course of action might yield the hoped-for result. I know it is an inconvenience, and it is of course quite possible the excursion to the opera house will only make things worse. But I should like to try one last time.”

“She will only make a spectacle of herself—of all of us—with her improper behaviour,” Darcy replied.

“Your aunt can be a bit, um, extravagant in both her opinions and her person,” Elizabeth rejoined.

“But since Sir Lewis’s death, she has had no one to turn to, to moderate her views or assist in reining in her worst impulses.

She has been all alone save for Anne. It may have been her choice to remain ensconced at Rosings, but even so, is it so wrong for a woman to have strong opinions or to be bold in expression and appearance? ”

The colonel chuckled. “She has you there, Darcy. You have said many times that you find your wife’s own strong opinions attractive.”

Darcy gave him a fierce look. He had never liked how keenly Fitzwilliam observed Elizabeth and their attachment. “Yes, it is her wit and intelligence I love and admire. I do not wish her to become another Lady Catherine!”

Lady Matlock patted his hand. “There is no chance of that happening, my dear.”

“Of course not.” Darcy gave his wife an apologetic glance, hoping she understood that his family stirred his temper and rendered his words clumsy. The soft smile she cast him alleviated his worry.

Lord Matlock looked at Elizabeth for several silent moments. Then, seeming to come to an unspoken conclusion of some sort, he said, “Very well. I trust your judgment and your ability to sketch a person’s character. Catherine may join us in our box. One last lesson. No more.”

He looked at Darcy, who wished to protest but could not go against Elizabeth’s wishes or question the admirable character she displayed.

So he simply nodded. Fitzwilliam laughed at him, clearly relishing future events.

But he watched Lady Matlock smile her approval of her husband’s decision whilst Elizabeth inclined her head in thanks.

Georgiana, he saw, only looked at her sister in quiet admiration.