Page 38 of Look on the Heart (Darcy and Elizabeth Variations #10)

Chapter Twenty

“Charlotte, I can see that marriage agrees with you.” Elizabeth sipped her tea, smiling at her friend over the top of the cup. “Why, I have never seen you glow so brightly!”

“Thank you, Eliza.” Charlotte took a bite of cake, chewing with thoughtful deliberation.

“Mr. Collins has proven to be an exemplary husband and partner. He performs small acts of kindness each day and strives to emulate my proper behavior. What is more, his devotion to Lady Catherine has begun to wane. Do not mistake my meaning—he still calls on her weekly as she demands, but he returns with more complaints of her highhandedness than praises for her beneficence or condescension.”

“And you had nothing to do with his transformation.” Elizabeth’s sarcasm was obvious, her grin shared knowingly with her friend.

“I may have pointed out a few things. Thankfully, he is receptive to gentle direction. Other men might insist they know better than their wives. I am well aware of the blessing it is to have a husband who willingly seeks to correct his faults.”

Sir William and Maria had claimed fatigue and retired to their chambers. Mr. Collins had departed on parish duties, leaving Elizabeth and Charlotte free to converse in private. Elizabeth relished the opportunity; how she had missed her friend’s good sense since she had married and gone away.

“I am very happy to be here,” she ventured, seizing the moment to speak her mind. “Mary is enjoying the attentions of a suitor in town—she begged me to convey her apologies for remaining in London with my aunt.”

“How has the season progressed for you?” Charlotte raised a brow. “I am not blind, Lizzy. There is a melancholy about you. It was present even before my wedding. I had hoped it would have lifted by now, but I see I was mistaken.”

“I saw Mr. Darcy yesterday,” she admitted.

“He was walking in Hyde Park. Mary hurried me away, and I ignored him, though he called after me.” She sighed and set her cup and saucer on the tray.

They rattled slightly in her agitation. “Should I have acknowledged him—turned to greet him, and permitted him to offer his excuses?” She set her cup and saucer down on the tray.

They rattled a little. Such was her agitation.

“The hurt in my heart has turned to anger. I want to shout at him for the pain he caused.”

Charlotte tut-tutted sympathetically. “I cannot say what would have been the best course of action. Perhaps he has a reason for his abandonment, though it does not follow the reason is an acceptable one. I should warn you—Mr. Darcy and his cousin come to Rosings Park each spring to assist with the management of the estate. Lady Catherine has already spoken of their impending arrival.”

Elizabeth swallowed. “I thank you for the information—and for the opportunity to prepare myself accordingly. When next we meet, I shall have regained my equanimity, and we may greet one another as common and indifferent acquaintances.”

Charlotte laughed. “You may say that if you believe it will be so. My dear Eliza, you are as much in love with Mr. Darcy now as you were when he departed after the Netherfield Ball. I know your temperament. Perhaps his visit to Rosings will allow you both to settle your differences and begin anew.” She sipped her tea, humming in contentment.

“Until you learn what drove him from Hertfordshire, I fear you will continue to be haunted by his memory.”

“I have imagined the worst. Mr. Bingley believes he overheard our conversation concerning Mr. Collins. Dear Charlotte—I owe you an apology for my words that evening. In the short time since our arrival, I see clearly that you are well-suited to my cousin. Forgive me.” Elizabeth regarded her friend with earnest affection, gratified to see no trace of resentment.

Charlotte grinned. “It is all forgotten. I cannot deny that it requires a particular sort of woman to manage my husband. In this, I am perfectly suited to the task. There is a long way for us to go—and an entire lifetime in which to do so. Now, you must not attempt to change the subject. Mr. Bingley believes our conversation at the ball was overheard. If that is the case, it explains much. Still, he ought to know you well enough to realize your words referred to another. Given his…history…I can understand why he left the company without a word.”

She sighed. “I can, too. My words were intemperate and wholly out of character. You cannot know how often I have regretted them. I am the cause of my own misery.”

“No,” Charlotte interrupted. “You cannot place all the blame upon your shoulders. Mr. Darcy is a grown man with experience in the world. He ought to have approached you directly. Though you have not been explicit, I gather he intimated something of his intentions before the ball. I should say his honor was engaged. A gentleman ought not to have left you with unfulfilled expectations.”

Elizabeth reached out and took Charlotte’s hand in gratitude.

“I value your staunch defense. Now it remains to be seen whether Mr. Darcy and I may settle our differences, or whether we must part ways forever. It will make matters exceedingly awkward going forward—Mr. Bingley, his dearest friend, is engaged to my sister.”

Charlotte clapped her hands in delight. “I had not heard! Is it recent?”

“Yes. Mary and I had a letter just before my departure. I am certain Lady Lucas will include the news in her next missive.” Suddenly restless, Elizabeth rose. “I believe I shall walk in the garden for a time. After spending the day in the carriage, I long to stretch my legs.”

Her friend chuckled. “Do not wander too far. I know well how many delights will draw your attention—and how many paths you will wish to explore. Tomorrow is soon enough.”

Elizabeth wandered through the gardens surrounding the parsonage.

They would be truly lovely in a few weeks’ time, once the flowers had begun to bloom in earnest. For now, the grounds appeared well tended, with no trace of dead foliage.

She wondered whether Mr. Collins or his wife had contributed to the neatness of the flower beds.

Charlotte had always enjoyed working with her hands.

The gardens at Lucas Lodge had been under her care before her marriage.

Mrs. Bennet had long labored to keep her own in equal condition, though she had never managed to surpass the splendor of those at Lucas Lodge.

No doubt Charlotte would transform the parsonage’s modest plot in a like manner.

Elizabeth mulled over the conversation they had shared in the small parlor at the back of the house.

More than anything, she wished for an opportunity to set matters right with Mr. Darcy.

Oh, why did I not speak with him in the park?

She knew the answer. I was not ready. Would she be ready when he arrived in Kent?

Would they have the chance to speak, or would he be too occupied with his aunt and cousin?

Choosing to let the matter rest until she must face him, she returned to the house.

The next day, Mr. Collins informed his guests that they were invited to dine at Rosings Park that evening. “Lady Catherine wishes to make the acquaintance of my guests,” he said simply. His words lacked the superfluous monologue Elizabeth recalled from Longbourn.

“What condescension!” cried Sir William, clearly delighted. “I had not expected such an honor. My dear Charlotte, what a compliment. You are very fortunate in your esteemed neighbor.”

Charlotte thanked her father, though Elizabeth noticed her press her lips together ever so slightly.

She wondered what sort of interference the great lady had already imposed upon the household of the parsonage.

Content to listen to the conversation around her, she ate her eggs and toast and said nothing.

“What shall I wear?” Maria asked in a tone verging on panic. “I did not pack anything suitable for a visit to a great house! Oh, Charlotte, I shall disgrace you!”

“Peace, dear sister.” Mr. Collins’s demeanor was surprisingly calm and reassuring.

“Simply wear whatever gown you have that is the finest. Lady Catherine will not object. Indeed—” he cleared his throat—“my patroness likes to see the distinction of rank preserved. Whatever you wear will be adequate to please her exacting standards.”

Charlotte gave her husband an approving nod, and Elizabeth watched as he straightened in his chair and returned the gesture. As dinner resumed, she reflected on how well matched Mr. and Mrs. Collins seemed. They will have a very happy life together, she mused. I could never have imagined it.

Later that evening, they strolled down the lane toward the great house.

Mr. Collins pointed out his favorite natural features and praised the gardens of Rosings.

“They will be bursting with blooms in a few weeks. The estate is renowned for its roses—which, I suppose, you might have guessed, given the name.”

Elizabeth much preferred Mr. Collins’s new manner of speaking to his monologue of last December, when he had enumerated the worth of Rosings and of the lady to whom he felt beholden.

She listened attentively now, offering the occasional comment.

All too soon, they arrived and were shown into a large, opulently furnished drawing room.

Gold leaf adorned nearly every surface, and the furniture was finely appointed and ornate.

Three persons occupied the room—two elder, one younger.

The lady seated in a grand, stately chair, Elizabeth judged, must be Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

Her countenance was impassive, though tinged with disapproval, as she examined her visitors.