Page 57 of Intrigue and Inheritance (Crime and Consequences #3)
Chapter Twenty
Darcy stood in the drawing room doorway, watching as his aunt made her stately way about the room.
Lady Catherine’s unexpected arrival had cast a pall over what should have been a pleasant evening, and he found himself surveying his guests with the wary attention of a general assessing potential battlefields.
Elizabeth had briefed him on the afternoon’s confrontation with remarkable composure, though the tight set of her shoulders betrayed her true feelings on the matter.
His own anger had settled into cold fury as he contemplated Lady Catherine’s interference in Anne’s life and her presumption in attempting to resurrect the marquess’s suit against his cousin’s expressed wishes.
“Nephew,” Lady Catherine beckoned imperiously, “you must introduce me to this Mr. Hislop I have heard so much about.”
Darcy inclined his head slightly, unwilling to give her the satisfaction of seeing his irritation. “Of course, Aunt. Mr. Hislop arrived only moments ago.”
He guided her toward the young gentleman, who stood conversing with Anne near the pianoforte.
Anne’s face was composed, revealing nothing of her earlier distress, though Darcy noted how her fingers clutched her fan tightly, the knuckles showing white.
Mr. Hislop, unaware of the storm about to descend upon him, smiled with pleasure as they approached.
“Mr. Hislop, may I present my aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh,” Darcy said formally. “Lady Catherine, Mr. Timothy Hislop.”
“Lady Catherine,” Mr. Hislop bowed with proper respect, though without the excessive deference Darcy knew his aunt expected. “It is an honour to make your acquaintance. Your daughter has spoken of Rosings Park with great affection.”
Lady Catherine’s gaze swept over the young man with the clinical assessment of a buyer at a horse fair. “Has she? How fascinating that my daughter should find time to discuss her ancestral home while supposedly focusing on the London Season.”
Anne flushed slightly, but Mr. Hislop responded with unruffled good humour. “Miss de Bourgh has been kind enough to share her knowledge of classical horsemanship with me. Her father’s stables at Rosings were apparently remarkable.”
“Sir Lewis maintained horses as befitting his station,” Lady Catherine pronounced dismissively. “A gentleman’s hobby, hardly a topic suitable for drawing room conversation. Tell me, Mr. Hislop, what is your family’s principal seat?”
Darcy recognised the subtle trap in his aunt’s question. By asking about the “principal seat,” she implied multiple estates, seeking to expose Mr. Hislop’s more limited circumstances.
“My father’s estate lies near Worcester,” Mr. Hislop replied. “Hazelwood Park. A modest property of about five hundred acres, primarily agricultural, though he has allocated me a small portion for my breeding programme.”
“Modest,” Lady Catherine sniffed. “And what is your position regarding this... breeding programme, as you call it? Surely you do not personally involve yourself in such matters?”
“On the contrary, Lady Catherine,” Mr. Hislop replied with quiet pride. “I consider direct involvement essential to success. Theory without practice rarely yields outstanding results.”
Lady Catherine’s eyebrows rose towards her cap, her expression one of poorly concealed disdain. Before she could deliver what would undoubtedly be a cutting response, Harrison announced dinner, providing a momentary reprieve.
The seating arrangement, planned days before Lady Catherine’s arrival, now proved problematic.
Elizabeth had originally placed Mr. Hislop beside Anne, with Lord Shandly beside Kitty on the opposite side.
Lady Catherine’s inclusion required hasty adjustments that resulted in her occupying the place of honour at Darcy’s right hand, with Lord Matlock to Elizabeth’s right.
Anne and Mr. Hislop were separated by the full length of the table, a circumstance that clearly pleased Mrs. Jenkinson, who sat vigilantly beside her charge.
As the first course was served, Darcy attempted to direct conversation toward neutral topics, but Lady Catherine seized control with practiced ease.
“I understand the Marquess of Byerly was invited this evening but declined,” she announced, her voice carrying clearly down the table. “A pity. He is precisely the sort of connection Anne should be cultivating.”
Darcy felt Elizabeth tense beside him, though her expression remained placid. “Lord Byerly had a prior engagement,” she replied smoothly. “We were naturally disappointed.”
“I am certain you were,” Lady Catherine’s tone suggested the opposite. “Though perhaps not as disappointed as Anne should be, considering his interest in her.”
Anne’s cheeks coloured, but she maintained her composure admirably, focusing her attention on her soup with studied concentration. Darcy cleared his throat, attempting to shift the conversation.
“Lord Matlock, how do you find the new collection at the Royal Academy? Kitty and Lord Shandly attended the private viewing recently and spoke highly of it.”
His uncle recognised the diversion for what it was and responded with alacrity, describing several notable paintings with enthusiasm. This strategy might have succeeded had Lady Catherine not deliberately redirected attention to Mr. Hislop halfway through the second course.
“Mr. Hislop,” she called rudely down the table, interrupting his quiet conversation with Mr. Townend. “I understand you spend your days training horses rather than managing your estate. What does your father think of such an... unusual occupation for a gentleman’s son?”
The question, pointed in both content and delivery, created an immediate hush around the table. Mr. Hislop set down his fork with deliberate care before responding.
“My father holds traditional views on estate management,” he acknowledged with admirable composure. “But he has come to recognise that my breeding programme represents a significant business opportunity as well as a personal passion.”
“Business,” Lady Catherine repeated, as though the word itself were distasteful. “How remarkably modern. In my day, gentlemen engaged in proper pursuits such as hunting or politics, not trade disguised as hobby.”
Mr. Hislop’s jaw tightened fractionally before the young man managed a polite smile. “I consider it less trade than stewardship, Lady Catherine. The preservation and improvement of classical horsemanship benefits our national heritage.”
“National heritage!” Lady Catherine let out a short, dismissive laugh.
“How grandly you frame what is merely personal indulgence.” She turned to Darcy with an expression of exaggerated concern.
“I am surprised, nephew, that you encourage such connections for Anne. Her constitution has never permitted strenuous activities, and association with those fixated on horses can only lead to inappropriate exertions.”
“Anne’s health has improved considerably with moderate exercise,” Elizabeth interjected gently. “Dr. Winters has commented most favourably on her increased stamina.”
Lady Catherine’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “I did not ask for your assessment, Mrs. Darcy. Anne’s health has been my primary concern for one and twenty years, and I require no instruction from those who have known her mere months.”
The quiet but deliberate insult hung in the air, a direct challenge that Darcy could not ignore.
He felt his temper, usually so carefully controlled, rising close to the surface.
His anger was all the more powerful for its silence; unlike his aunt, his fury did not announce itself with volume but with a deadly quiet that those who knew him well recognised as far more dangerous.
“ My wife ,” he said, his voice low but carrying clearly in the sudden silence, “has shown exemplary care for Anne’s wellbeing. Any improvement in my cousin’s health speaks to Elizabeth’s excellent judgment, not to any deficiency in previous arrangements.”
Lady Catherine’s face flushed with anger. “Your loyalty to your wife is commendable, if misplaced. It does not change the fact that under her supervision, Anne has been encouraged in pursuits unsuited to her delicate constitution and in connections wholly inappropriate to her station.”
“I am not delicate, Mother,” Anne’s quiet voice surprised everyone, cutting through the tension with unexpected clarity. “And I find discussions of horsemanship both educational and enjoyable.”
Lady Catherine’s expression shifted to one of cold fury. “You have been coached to say so, no doubt. This household has clearly encouraged wilfulness where once there was proper obedience.”
“What you call wilfulness,” Darcy stated flatly, “others might term independence of thought. Anne is of age and entitled to form her own judgments about suitable activities and acquaintances.”
He was acutely aware of the many eyes fixed upon this family confrontation, but found he could no longer maintain the facade of polite dinner conversation while his aunt systematically undermined both his wife and his cousin.
Elizabeth placed a subtle, restraining hand on his wrist, her touch conveying both support and caution.
Lord Matlock chose this moment to intervene, his patrician voice cutting through the tension with authority.
“Catherine, I recall that Sir Lewis was an excellent horseman himself. Did he not maintain a fine stable at Rosings? I seem to remember several Spanish-bred animals that were the envy of the county.”
This diplomatic redirection toward memories of Anne’s father momentarily deflected Lady Catherine’s ire.
As she launched into a carefully edited recollection of Sir Lewis’s equestrian accomplishments, Darcy caught his uncle’s eye and inclined his head in silent gratitude.
The remainder of the dinner proceeded with strained civility, Lady Catherine dominating conversation but directing her barbs more generally rather than specifically targeting Elizabeth or Anne.