Page 15 of Beyond Pride, Past Prejudice

While the atmosphere during that night’s dinner at the Parsonage had been acceptable, at times even surprisingly pleasant, the situation at Rosings was quite different.

When Darcy arrived in the drawing-room after a slight delay, he found only the members of the household present, already rising to proceed to the dining room.

Startled, he looked around, half-expecting the door to open and their guests to arrive.

But Lady Catherine, displeased by his distracted gaze, turned to him and said in an acid tone, “This evening, we finally dine as a family. It seems you do not appreciate such an arrangement any longer.” The message was for him only, and still, he did not understand.

Darcy looked to the colonel, who shrugged helplessly. He, too, had been unaware of their aunt’s decision to cancel the invitations.

“We were supposed to have guests tonight,” Darcy said, suddenly furious. It was one of the last evenings before their departure, which had already been fixed. “I myself delivered the invitation to Mrs Collins when I saw her this morning at the Parsonage.”

“And I have since rescinded it,” replied Lady Catherine. “I believe we have dined quite enough with those at the Parsonage. We need an evening to discuss matters regarding our family, which concern us alone.”

“And what matters might those be?” Darcy asked, his irritation far from subsiding.

He was deeply disappointed, for he had hoped to speak to Elizabeth, to break through the wall of trivialities that had come to surround their every conversation, and to learn more about her and about her feelings.

For his own feelings were clear: he loved her.

And although he had tried to find reasons to abandon the idea, to leave for London and put an end to it, he had not succeeded.

That morning, he had resolved to ask for her hand, and he had needed this evening to help her understand that his admiration for her was far more than a passing inclination.

Yet Lady Catherine, in her autocratic manner, had shattered that hope.

His disappointment was palpable, hanging in the air like a heavy cloud.

“For instance, to give you the chance to spend more time with Anne,” his aunt replied sharply. “You are at the Parsonage or with the ladies there all day. Anne is your betrothed—”

“Lady Catherine, I must ask you to refrain from making such proclamations,” the colonel interrupted hastily, fearing Darcy would launch into an argument that could only lead to unpleasantness.

“And I must ask you not to interfere, Richard! Are you Darcy’s secretary?”

“He is not my secretary,” Darcy said, somewhat more composed, “but he speaks the truth. We are not engaged, nor do I intend to become engaged to my cousin.”

Only then, as if realising that the conversation concerned Anne, who was present, did he turn to her with a small smile.

“Forgive me, Anne,” he said. “I do not wish to be unkind.”

“No, you are not, Cousin,” she murmured in a small yet sweet voice.

“Quiet, girl!” Lady Catherine shouted.

Darcy and the colonel looked at each other quite helplessly. They genuinely felt sorry for their cousin, who was so oppressed by her mother. Speaking in that way in their presence was even more frustrating and damaging to the poor young lady.

“You and Anne must marry,” continued Lady Catherine. “I trust you understand that such obligations must be fulfilled.”

“There is no obligation, Lady Catherine,” Darcy replied composedly, yet his face was far from reflecting the same quietness.

“But of course there is! Your mother and I decided—”

“My mother is dead and cannot confirm this decision,” Darcy continued in the same even tone. However, the exasperation was now visible on his face. “I do not wish to marry Anne, nor does she wish to marry me.”

“She is not to be asked,” the old woman fumed, waving her spoon about, sending droplets of soup onto those around her.

“You are mistaken. She should be consulted. I would never marry a woman who is thrust into my arms by her mother without her full consent and love for me.”

“Love!” Lady Catherine scoffed contemptuously. “I did not think you were a man to concern yourself with such trifles. This is about ensuring that our wealth remains within the family.”

“My fortune is more than sufficient. I have no need for a single penny more. I shall not marry Anne, and this discussion ends here.”

“Perhaps you have some other young lady in mind!” cried Lady Catherine in such a furious and severe tone that it was scarcely characteristic even for her.

“I do not believe that is any concern of yours, madam,” said Darcy with unyielding calm.

“It is my concern. It is a matter that concerns our family, upon which you might well bring shame!”

“Lady Catherine,” interjected the colonel in his turn, “let us not lose our tempers without cause. Darcy has not made any decisions regarding marriage.” Yet looking at his cousin he saw how close he was to making one.

Only it was not what Lady Catherine had in mind—or did she know more than she was willing to divulge?

“We shall see about that!” Lady Catherine declared in such a menacing tone that all present turned to her, startled—even fearful.

“Please do not threaten me, Lady Catherine. I am not one of your servants,” Darcy replied coldly, then, looking affectionately at Anne he said, “You will always be welcome in our home, Anne, as our cousin.” He was confident that she would understand that it was not a casual invitation but a serious offer to escape from her mother.

Darcy was tempted to leave the table at once and go to the Parsonage to speak to Elizabeth or simply tell her he intended to ask for her hand.

But he refrained, for something vicious in his aunt’s gaze made him fear she might attempt to frighten Elizabeth somehow.

Yet, as he rose from the table and made his way to the library, the colonel following close behind, a smile flickered across his face, for he realised that nothing could possibly intimidate Elizabeth, and opposing Lady Catherine might, in fact, even bring her some small satisfaction.

∞∞∞

“What was that? What is this hurry?” Darcy asked, holding a generous glass of brandy. “Has she somehow sensed that I am fond of Miss Bennet?”

“Sensed?” the colonel laughed. “No great intuition was required. Since your arrival, you have circled around Miss Bennet, and your behaviour and face has betrayed your feelings more than once. Lady Catherine is not subtle, yet you have been far from concealing your own sentiments.”

Darcy was still, reflecting on his cousin’s words, then he spoke with obvious regret. “It seems I have revealed my feelings to the wrong person. I have had no indication from Miss Bennet that she has understood.”

“Perhaps she has understood you admire her but not how profound your admiration is. There is a difference between having an interest or affection for a lady—flirting with her—and appearing resolute in your intention to ask for her hand.”

Darcy sighed and shook his head. The colonel was correct.

His heart burned; he was in love for the first time in his life, yet he was uncertain about marriage.

A critical consideration had stood in the way of such a decision.

But in the end, he had overcome all the obstacles—which had, in truth, been entirely within himself.

The opinion or wishes of Lady Catherine did not concern him.

Neither she nor his family could stand in the way of his decision; he alone had the power to choose.

“I am finally resolved,” Darcy said, and the colonel exhaled in relief.

He had never seen his cousin so unsettled, so deep in thought, or so uncertain.

But since meeting Miss Bennet, he had come to understand she was the wife he needed.

Beautiful, intelligent, and fiercely independent, she was the woman who would create the atmosphere required within Darcy’s home—love and laughter, seriousness, and a particular state of perpetual battle that would keep a marriage alive.

Over the last two weeks, he had come to know her, to appreciate her, and, above all, to wonder why his cousin did not see clearly that she was the woman for him.

But such a thing could not be said aloud.

He knew Darcy too well; he was stubborn—and sometimes arrogant enough to dismiss advice outright.

“My God, you have finally come to your senses!” he dared to exclaim yet immediately regretted it as Darcy seemed once again overwhelmed by his old doubts. Nevertheless, he answered as he needed to talk, and the colonel was the only one in the world who could listen to his concerns.

“I resolved to make peace with her family—her mother, sisters…Mr Collins,” he finally said, and the colonel approved with a slight nod.

“A good decision, Cousin. Her family cannot be an obstacle. I am glad you understand.”

“You have not grasped the depth of my worry.”

“So tell me,” the colonel replied, but faced with Darcy’s silence he continued, “Tell me, even though I am confident I have understood everything.”

“First…” Darcy hesitated. “First…you tell me what you think about me navigating this strange situation and not finding a solution while I am sure of my feelings for her.”

But the colonel shook his head in denial; it was difficult to tell Darcy the truth.

“Come, Richard, you are like my brother. You cannot hurt me, and I need your honesty.”

Finally the colonel’s forthright nature led him to decide in favour of complete candour, indifferent to the consequences.

“Then… Well… I am not the most subtle man in the world, yet I think the real obstacle is your pride regarding yourself and our family that has made you regard with arrogance anyone who seemed below your…our social status.”

Darcy’s grimace was difficult to interpret, but luckily his words came at once.

“Lately…I have tried to move beyond pride. But it is not about lacking refinement or elegance—I would not expect such a thing—but the fundamental conduct befitting society. I find it difficult to describe them, and I do not wish to do so tonight, for I fear that by morning, I shall awaken resolved to leave directly for London.”

“But Darcy, I met her aunt, Mrs Gardiner, in London. I found her to be a highly respectable lady—kind, and a close friend to Lady Oakham.”

“Unfortunately, one decent person in the family is not enough. I assure you that I have hesitated for so long precisely because what I encountered in their household was a mother entirely devoid of decorum—indeed, outright vulgar—and with a shocking lack of scruples in her relentless pursuit of husbands for her five daughters, all of whom, except for Miss Elizabeth, resemble her in every way.”

“It cannot be as dreadful as that,” the colonel said in a conciliatory tone.

“I do not think you should judge them so harshly. We have dear Lady Catherine in our family. And you are mistaken if you think our aunt’s siege upon your hand has only just begun.

When she first brought Anne to our house, I recall that, during the first dinner, she declared the engagement between you two was as good as settled. ”

Darcy sipped his brandy and said nothing.

“My father seemed to agree, but my mother, later that evening when it was just us, without Anne and Lady Catherine, laughed heartily at the notion along with Lady Oakham and said that no one could force you into marriage. I believe both ladies know you quite well.”

“Lady Matlock is a woman of subtlety and refinement, who knows human nature well,” Darcy agreed. He had even secretly hoped that, in the event of a marriage, she and Lady Oakham would guide Elizabeth, helping her to become acquainted with London society.

“Lady Catherine is not my main problem now,” he continued reflectively.

“Obviously. But still do not misjudge her power. I do not think inviting Anne to your home was a wise decision,” the colonel said.

Darcy looked at him, waiting for him to explain.

“You were too angry to notice, but Lady Catherine calmed herself when you extended the invitation. She will, without a doubt, send Anne to you—either to London or Pemberley—hoping she might sway your resolve.”

“It will be too late,” Darcy said, setting down his glass. “For I hope that I shall be engaged by tomorrow.”