Page 50 of Beyond Pride, Past Prejudice

Usually, a journey to Derbyshire would have been a source of great joy for Mrs Gardiner.

The Matlocks’ estate lay only five miles from Lambton, where she had grown up and still regarded with deep affection.

She loved London and the life she had built with her husband, but Lambton remained the home of her happy childhood and youth, shared with cheerful and understanding parents, among caring neighbours and joyful friends.

“I shall write Mr Darcy a short note in the coming days to inform him of our arrival.”

“He may already know,” said Mrs Gardiner, glancing at Elizabeth. But her niece only shrugged; she had asked Lady Oakham and the colonel not to mention their journey explicitly, though it was entirely possible Mr Darcy had learnt of it since Matlock House belonged to his closest relations.

Although Mr Gardiner was looking forward to visiting Pemberley, he was far from idle in the meantime. Mrs Gardiner’s old friends surrounded them with warmth and joy, and invitations flowed freely—not only to dinner but also to fishing excursions, which Mr Gardiner greatly preferred to hunting.

In that cheerful and lively atmosphere, Elizabeth, too, found contentment. Yet no one objected when she chose to wander through the countryside rather than accompany her relatives.

More than once, Elizabeth had taken the carriage past Lambton to the place where she had learnt the boundary of the Pemberley estate began. She walked along the well-kept road but never saw anyone save the villagers or Pemberley servants, who passed her by with curious but respectful greetings.

She had considered writing a note herself, but in the end, her uncle had already shared everything necessary.

Then, the waiting began. She would have spent the entire day indoors, waiting, and when Mrs Gardiner managed to take her out for an hour or two on a walk, she would hurry back, feverishly searching through the letters or gazing sadly at the empty correspondence tray.

“I was certain he would reply,” she said on the third day, but her aunt only shook her head sorrowfully.

Even Mrs Gardiner had been certain he would reply, and at first, the silence surprised her. But then, seeing Elizabeth’s distress—although she strove to appear hopeful—she began, in her heart, to suffer for her niece. After three days, it became clear that he would not write back.

Mr Darcy’s silence stood as the most unmistakable sign of his desire to avoid their presence.

Proper decorum would have dictated a brief note, conveying some polite excuse—a prior engagement, perhaps, or an unavoidable absence.

Yet, in light of the delicate and tangled history that bound them, his silence might be met with a certain tolerance, if not complete comprehension.

In the meantime, her aunt had confided to Mr Gardiner parts of their history, though sparing him the particulars including the marriage proposal, merely allowing him to imagine that Mr Darcy’s strange behaviour was due more to caprice than to any true change in his regard towards them.

Mr Gardiner nodded, appearing to understand, though he was inwardly displeased that so trivial a reason had cost him the opportunity of securing a valuable client.

At times, they observed Elizabeth with quiet concern, yet there was nothing to be done but wait.

“How much longer shall we remain?” Elizabeth asked, ten days after their arrival.

“Two or three days at most,” Mrs Gardiner replied, and hope gradually deserted her, leaving in its place a sorrow to which she had by now grown accustomed.

Only this time, once they were seated in the carriage, there would remain no grounds for hope.

She had undertaken this journey in defiance of his parting words, hoping that once the affair with Lady Olivia was settled, he might again imagine a future in which she, too, had a place.

But his silence drew the curtain over the last act. Their story had come to an end.

She knew they would meet again in the future, owing to the connection between Lady Oakham and her aunt. Yet when that moment came, they would be no more than acquaintances—both fully aware that whatever deeper bond had once existed was now severed.

At night, she wept at times, but her tears fell in silence.

She did not wish her aunt to witness her sorrow nor to offer comfort.

This time, she sought resolution from within.

She had written nothing more to Charlotte beyond an initial letter, brimming with joy, sent during the journey.

A week ago, she had still clung to hope, but the sorrow that now enveloped her was not one she wished to share.

On the morning of their departure, she and her aunt resolved to take one final walk through the Matlocks’ beautiful park, where pheasants spread their splendid tails whenever they passed.

As though they wished to bid them farewell, their sharp cries brought a flicker of cheer to Elizabeth.

“I shall miss them,” she said with a smile, hoping to dispel the sadness that had settled over them.

Mrs Gardiner smiled as well, and together, they climbed the steps to the house one last time to fetch their travelling coats.

But just as they were preparing to leave, a commotion erupted in the hall—raised voices, verging on shouts—and although Elizabeth allowed herself, for the briefest instant, to hope it might be Mr Darcy, she knew well that such a stormy entrance did not suit his nature.

The fragile illusion dissolved at once as Lady Catherine swept into the drawing-room in her customary tempestuous manner.

“There you are!” she cried, and Mrs Gardiner looked at Elizabeth in confusion, for she did not know who the woman was. But once introductions were made, deep concern settled over her features.

“I wish to speak to Miss Bennet,” declared Lady Catherine, and Elizabeth reassured her aunt with a smile and a gesture. Although unwilling, Mrs Gardiner left the room.

Elizabeth waited in silence for Lady Catherine to speak, though she already suspected the reason for her visit.

Her ladyship pursued her aims with relentless obstinacy, determined to sweep aside any obstacle to her daughter’s supposed happiness.

She remembered what had happened in London and how fiercely she had fought against Lady Olivia and used any means to vanquish her.

Elizabeth could have reassured her that nothing remained between herself and Mr Darcy but preferred to be silent.

She had never liked the arrogant mistress of Rosings, and the prospect of a brief confrontation, however pointless, amused her.

“Miss Bennet, I have little time at my disposal. Accompany me for a few steps out of doors.” There was a command in her tone that Elizabeth knew all too well, yet her voice lacked its usual firmness.

She had never seen Lady Catherine walk out of doors before and thus regarded her with some surprise, but she nodded and followed her.

It was strange that they should be going out, the only explanation being that Lady Catherine did not wish their conversation to be overheard, yet no definitive reason was given.

In any case, nothing they might discuss held any interest for her now.

She longed only to leave Derbyshire and, with it, the entire past bound to Mr Darcy.

As they passed through the hall, Lady Catherine pushed open the doors to the dining parlour and drawing-room and, after a brief inspection, pronounced both to be in an acceptable state of order and cleanliness, then walked on.

“This used to be my home,” she said without the faintest trace of emotion.

As soon as they reached the garden, Lady Catherine began without hesitation.

“You cannot fail to understand, Miss Bennet, the reason for my visit. Your own heart, your own conscience, must tell you why I came the moment I learnt of your stay at Matlock.”

Elizabeth looked at her with astonishment.

“Indeed, you are mistaken, madam. I have not been able to imagine a reason for the honour of your presence here.”

“Miss Bennet,” Lady Catherine replied, her voice rising, “you must know that I am not one to be trifled with. However insincere you choose to be, you shall not find me so. My character has long been celebrated for its sincerity and frankness, and I shall not depart from either now, not in a matter of such importance. A most alarming report reached me some time ago—during your visit to Kent.”

Elizabeth turned to face her fully, ready to meet the attack. She felt composed, even strong, not in the least intimidated.

“I do not know to what you refer,” she said, with a smile she hoped would be as impertinent as possible before a woman unaccustomed to contradiction. And indeed, Lady Catherine’s temper flared all the more.

“You know very well! I have been told that my nephew made you an offer of marriage—”

“And I refused him,” Elizabeth replied.

Lady Catherine fell momentarily silent at those words as if gathering her strength. Then she resumed her original tone.

“I very much doubt you could refuse him, but, fortunately, my nephew’s moment of madness did not result in a union that would have been wholly illegal.”

“Illegal?” Elizabeth echoed. “How could a marriage performed in church between two unmarried people be considered illegal?”

“Because at the moment Darcy proposed—if indeed that happened in Kent—he was already engaged to my daughter. The engagement between them is of a particular nature. Since their infancy, they have been destined for one another. It was the favourite wish of his mother, as well as hers. While in their cradles, we planned the union.”

“Lady Catherine, I know Mr Darcy well, and whilst I admit he has faults, dishonesty is not among them. He is the most honourable man I have ever met. If he believed he had no obligation to your daughter, then I believe that to be the truth.”

“Obstinate, headstrong girl! I am ashamed of you. Is this the gratitude you show for my attention to you last spring? Do you owe me nothing for that? Understand, Miss Bennet, that I came here determined to achieve my purpose, and I shall not be dissuaded. I am not accustomed to submitting to others’ whims or tolerating disappointment. ”

“And what exactly is your purpose regarding me? If you already knew I had refused Mr Darcy’s proposal, what more could you possibly expect me to do to prevent his marriage to Miss de Bourgh?”

“Miss Bennet, do you know who I am? I am unaccustomed to being spoken to in this manner. I am perhaps the nearest relation he has in the world and am entitled to know all that concerns him most deeply.”

“Lady Catherine—”

“I will not be interrupted. You will hear me. My daughter and my nephew are perfectly suited. They are descended on their mothers’ side from the same noble line, and on the fathers’ from respectable, honourable, and ancient families.

Their fortunes are great on both sides. They have the full approval of every member of their houses, and finally, they are engaged. ”

Elizabeth stopped walking and looked at the older woman, and suddenly, Lady Catherine’s face held no anger—only an unexpected serenity. It could mean only one thing: the engagement had been renewed, not merely planned in childhood but made real recently.

“In one week, my daughter will be Mrs Darcy. The banns have already been read twice. And now I find, to my astonishment, that you and your family are staying in the very house where I was raised. You have come here, without scruple, to disturb what has already been solemnly promised between two people who have pledged themselves to one another.”

“That was never my intention,” Elizabeth answered with quiet dignity, though inside her heart was wracked by a storm.

Mr Darcy was going to be married, and she had learnt of it in the cruellest possible way from a woman who took pleasure in bringing her the news.

Mr Darcy had given her no sign because nothing was left to say.

His silence, once thought rude, had only been meant to hide what he could not soften.

“Miss Bennet—”

“You can have nothing further to say,” Elizabeth answered, her voice full of restrained hurt. “You have insulted me in every possible way, Lady Catherine, and we have nothing more to discuss.”

“So you are leaving without further attempting to disturb his happiness?”

“We are indeed leaving. But you must understand that I never intended to disturb his happiness. I respect him, and I respect his decisions.”

And without another glance, she turned and ran back into the house—into the arms of her aunt.

“He is married,” she said.

“Married?” Mrs Gardiner asked, utterly astonished.

“Not yet married, but the banns have been read twice. Let us go home.”