Page 51 of Beyond Pride, Past Prejudice

Darcy looked on with a quiet smile as Anne and Georgiana practised archery in the garden behind Pemberley.

From a terrace on the top floor, he was enjoying a peaceful morning, far from Lady Catherine, to whom he had declared himself occupied.

He could hear the laughter of the girls and of the few young guests from the surrounding area invited for what Georgiana proudly called the Pemberley Tournament .

Anne had begun to blossom since they had left London—just as he had hoped.

Away from her mother and in the company of Georgiana and other young people, she was slowly becoming less timid, freer, and perhaps, in time, happier.

He could now imagine her as his wife, and the prospect of such an alliance no longer seemed impossible.

The only matter left unresolved was ensuring Lady Catherine would not remain nearby—an obstacle difficult to manage since she never arrived by invitation or even with notice.

She descended upon them like a storm whenever it pleased her, just as she had done a few days earlier, despite his hope of not seeing her that summer.

“Sir!” His valet’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. He turned to see Johnson approaching with an uneasy expression, pausing awkwardly between his words.

“I must tell you something…difficult…unexpected…possibly serious.”

Darcy gave a tolerant smile. Johnson was not one to hesitate, accustomed as he was to his master’s habits and preferences, and quick to act when needed.

“Spare me the preamble. What has happened? Has someone broken a vase?” he asked in good humour, clearly unconcerned about whatever the matter might be. But the man shook his head, clearly embarrassed by the subject.

“Several days ago I noticed that I delivered one fewer letter than had arrived for you…”

“How is that possible?” Darcy asked, his tone already more guarded. He recalled Johnson asking whether he had taken a letter from the hall tray, to which he had replied indifferently that he probably had.

“You said you could not recall, and I assumed all was in order—”

“And?” Darcy asked, now impatient.

Johnson took a breath, steadying himself.

“Speak, Johnson, for heaven’s sake.”

“The maid who cleaned the guest rooms this morning…while changing the bedding in Lady Catherine’s chambers…she found something. A letter addressed to you. The missing letter, I believe.” The poor man flushed with shame, aware that he was accusing Lady Catherine of something his master would detest.

He handed Darcy the letter and left in silence, his task completed.

Darcy stared at it for several moments. The seal had been broken, though someone had taken care to conceal it.

His anger flared, and when he opened it and read the missive, a fury unlike any he had known took hold of him.

He looked down into the garden, hoping to see Lady Catherine, but the tournament had already ended.

He found them in the drawing-room, drinking lemonade—Georgiana, Anne, their companions, and Lady Catherine.

He entered, the letter raised in his hand, and waved it in front of Lady Catherine, who understood at once what had happened.

“Since when do you censor my correspondence?” he asked, his fury unchecked.

“Darcy! Let us not discuss this here, in front of—”

“We shall speak wherever I choose, Lady Catherine. This is my house. How dare you hide a letter from me!”

Lady Catherine, however, would not yield easily.

“What sort of house is this, where servants go through the belongings of guests? Perhaps my pearls have gone missing as well.”

“Mother!” Anne exclaimed with indignation.

“You remain silent, girl. No one asked for your opinion. All of you—leave,” she said, turning to the girls and their companions, who had already risen.

“No one leaves until I say so,” Darcy declared. To Lady Catherine’s apparent displeasure, everyone resumed their seats.

“The Gardiners and Miss Bennet wrote to announce their arrival, as Georgiana requested. They are ten miles from here and have been for”—he glanced at the date—“at least ten days. And you dared to keep that from me by hiding the letter. When did you intend to give it to me?”

He did not wait for an answer, his voice now low but sharp with suspicion.

“Did you know the Gardiners and Miss Bennet would be here?”

He fell silent, the very idea sounding absurd even to him—but the flush that spread across Lady Catherine’s face told him he had guessed correctly.

“How did you know?” he asked, his eyes fixed on her, demanding a reply, suddenly aware that she had controlled his correspondence because she suspected Elizabeth would come.

“From Anne,” she said thoughtlessly.

But then something remarkable happened. Anne stood and, in a calm yet clearly angry tone, replied, “How can you speak such lies, Mother?”

The room went still. Even Lady Catherine looked stunned, her flush deepening. Then she rose as if to strike, shouting, “Silence, you foolish girl!”

She seemed about to approach Anne, but Darcy stepped between them, and Lady Catherine, defeated, sank back into her chair.

“I knew nothing, Fitzwilliam,” Anne said with quiet courage. Her courageous and determined voice seemed newly born. He looked at her with admiration, taking her hand and pressing a kiss upon it.

“I believe you,” he said. He realised then that his relatives in London must have concealed Miss Bennet’s visit from Lady Catherine.

Lady Oakham had shown evident delight at the prospect of a match between them and had tried to bring them together.

Inviting Elizabeth to stay in her family home had surely not been a coincidence.

“From whom did you learn of her visit?” he asked again.

“Oh!” exclaimed Anne, drawing all eyes as if on the verge of a revelation. “From Mr Collins…or rather, from Mrs Collins.”

“Her closest friend… Efficient spies you have at Rosings, Aunt. Congratulations!” said Darcy, his voice heavy with disappointment and scorn.

In an instant, he called for his horse and departed without another word.

∞∞∞

He stopped in front of the Matlocks’ house, hoping to find them still there, to apologise for what must have appeared like horrible behaviour. But the windows were wide open, and the house was clearly being cleaned. A servant came out and took his horse.

“Have the guests departed?” Darcy asked, still hoping they had merely gone for a walk or into the town.

“Yes, sir. They left this morning, around eleven.”

“Do you know where they went?”

The man shook his head. “Not exactly, sir. I heard the young lady say she could not wait to be home, but I could not tell you where that is.”

Darcy was about to mount again when the servant added, “There was a lady here this morning—certainly from Pemberley. Perhaps she knows more…”

“An older woman?”

“Yes, sir,” the man confirmed and bowed.

Darcy rode away as quickly as he had arrived but stopped less than two miles from the boundary of his estate. He dismounted and sat on a stone bench, reflecting more deeply than he had allowed himself to until then.

Lady Catherine had indeed saved him in London from a mistake that would have cost him a lifetime of misery—but that gave her no right to interfere as she had now done.

Whatever the nature of his past with Elizabeth, their friendship had been real.

That she had come to Derbyshire was proof that she believed so too.

Georgiana was waiting for him in front of the house, visibly expectant. She had hoped to see Miss Bennet, and she read the disappointment on his face as he told her about their departure.

Together, they began strolling towards the lake, both wishing to be alone and enjoying each other’s company.

“What happened?” Georgiana asked eagerly. “Were they truly here?”

“Yes, and they let us know they had arrived, but Lady Catherine had learnt of their coming from the Parsonage. That is why she appeared here four days ago, just in time to conceal the letter. No doubt she would have returned it to its place in a few days…or perhaps never.”

“Oh dear!” exclaimed Georgiana, her disappointment plain.

“But why did we not receive word from London about their arrival?” she asked, blushing—for though their plan in London was no longer relevant, it was better left unspoken.

Yet Darcy did not notice her unease. His gaze was fixed in the distance, towards the hill where the roads to Pemberley and Lambton diverged.

“Perhaps Miss Bennet chose not to inform us beforehand, preferring instead to announce their arrival upon reaching this place. She, like me, detests games and contrivances,” he said, and again failed to see the small smile that rose to his sister’s lips.

She gave him a gentle nudge. “Do something, Fitzwilliam, I beg you—do something!”