Page 29 of Mr. Darcy’s Honor (Darcy and Elizabeth Forever: Pride and Prejudice Variations #1)
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
HER LADYSHIP’S ULTIMATUM
Elizabeth sat at her father’s writing desk, sorting through her correspondence.
The house was uncommonly quiet—Mary had gone to practice at the church, Kitty and Lydia were visiting Maria Lucas, and Jane and her mother had driven to Meryton for ribbons.
Even her father had abandoned his library for a meeting with his steward.
Five days had passed since she and Jane left Netherfield. Every day, Bingley had sent a servant with news on Darcy’s condition. The ice baths and poultices have reduced his fever. However, Mr. Darcy hadn’t asked for her, and the servant could not give specifics.
“Lady Catherine de Bourgh, miss,” Hill announced, appearing at the door of the study. “To see you.”
Elizabeth rose, disbelief warring with dismay. Lady Catherine, here at Longbourn? The very notion seemed absurd. But Elizabeth walked to the drawing room to meet her.
“Miss Bennet,” Lady Catherine pronounced her name as if it tasted unpleasant. She wore a dark green velvet traveling costume, and her walking stick tapped sharply against the floorboards as she advanced.
“Lady Catherine.” Elizabeth curtseyed. “This is an unexpected honor. I regret that my family is not home.”
“That is of no matter.” Lady Catherine’s gaze swept around the modest drawing room. “It is you with whom I wish to speak.”
Elizabeth gestured toward a chair. “Won’t you be seated? May I offer refreshment after your journey?”
“I require no refreshment.” Lady Catherine remained standing. “I am on my way to Rosings Park, having seen my nephew sufficiently recovered to no longer require my presence. Before departing Hertfordshire, I determined to address certain matters with you directly.”
Elizabeth’s heart quickened at the mention of Darcy. “I am pleased to hear Mr. Darcy continues to improve.”
“No thanks to the unorthodox treatments initially employed. My own healer’s methods proved far more efficacious than cold compresses and poetry readings.”
The dismissal of her care stung, but Elizabeth maintained a composed expression.
“I suggest we walk in your garden,” Lady Catherine continued with imperial authority. “What I have to say is best conducted in private.”
The request—or rather, command—surprised Elizabeth. What could Lady Catherine possibly have to say that required such privacy? Nevertheless, she nodded and led the way through the French doors to the garden path.
They walked in silence until they reached a secluded bench beneath an old oak tree, well away from the house. Lady Catherine stopped, fixing Elizabeth with a penetrating stare.
“Miss Bennet, I will come straight to the point. My nephew’s behavior during his fever has given rise to certain expectations that must be crushed immediately.”
Elizabeth met her gaze steadily. “I nursed Mr. Darcy through his fever at the request of Mr. Bingley and the surgeon. There are no expectations beyond competent care.”
“I did not come to discuss medical care,” Lady Catherine snapped. “I speak of my nephew’s delirious claim that you were his wife. That Pemberley was half yours. That you had promised to care for Georgiana.”
Heat rose in Elizabeth’s cheeks. “Mr. Darcy was extremely ill. Anything he said during his fever should be attributed to delirium, not rational thought.”
“Precisely,” Lady Catherine agreed, her tone triumphant. “I have come to ensure you harbor no expectations based on these fever-induced ravings.”
“What expectations could you be referring to?”
Lady Catherine’s eyes narrowed. “Do not play innocent with me, Miss Bennet. Young women of your station are well-versed in the art of entrapping gentlemen of fortune. My nephew’s weakened state presented an ideal opportunity for such schemes.”
The accusation was so outrageous that Elizabeth nearly laughed. Only the genuine gravity of Lady Catherine’s expression prevented this improper response.
“I assure you, Lady Catherine, I have no designs on Mr. Darcy’s fortune.”
“So claim all young women with ambitions above their station,” Lady Catherine replied with a cutting tone. “You would not be the first to mistake delirium for declaration.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“There was a Miss Helena Mortimer, daughter of a minor baronet, who once fancied herself the object of my nephew’s affections,” Lady Catherine said, her tone conversational yet edged with warning.
“She misinterpreted common courtesy as particular regard. When her schemes failed to secure a proposal, she hid herself in his carriage, hoping to be discovered and thus compromised into marriage.”
Elizabeth could not suppress her astonishment. “What happened?”
“My nephew’s driver and footmen removed her from the vehicle and deposited her in front of a coaching inn,” Lady Catherine replied with grim satisfaction. “Her disgrace was complete. Her family removed to Bath, where I understand she eventually married a clergyman twice her age.”
The tale was meant to intimidate and suggest Elizabeth’s ambitions might meet a similar fate.
“A most illuminating anecdote, Lady Catherine. Though I fail to see its relevance to my nursing Mr. Darcy through a life-threatening fever.”
“Its relevance, Miss Bennet, is that my nephew is unavailable for pursuit, regardless of any imagined encouragement. He is engaged to my daughter, Anne.”
“Engaged?” Elizabeth could not conceal her surprise. “I was not aware of any formal engagement.”
“It has been arranged since their infancy,” Lady Catherine declared. “A union planned by his mother and me, designed to join our estates and preserve the purity of our lineage.”
Elizabeth absorbed this information with a peculiar hollowness in her chest. An arranged marriage, planned since infancy. This explained Darcy’s refusal to dance with young ladies at the assembly but not his proposal at Hunsford.
“You may observe that my nephew shows no particular interest in eligible young ladies of his acquaintance,” Lady Catherine continued.
“Even Miss Bingley, sister to his closest friend, has received nothing beyond the most basic courtesy required by their connection. This is because his future is already determined.”
Elizabeth was at a loss for words. While demeaning to her family, Darcy’s proposal at Hunsford had never referred to more advantageous connections he might have eschewed.
Taking her silence as victory, Lady Catherine reached into her reticule and withdrew a small packet. “For your services at Netherfield. Five pounds. A generous sum for a few days’ attendance.”
Elizabeth stared at the offered payment. “I was not a hired nurse, Lady Catherine. I attended Mr. Darcy out of duty and compassion, not for financial gain.”
“Nevertheless, you will take it,” Lady Catherine insisted. “I do not leave debts unsettled.”
When Elizabeth made no move to accept the money, Lady Catherine tossed it onto the bench between them. The packet landed with a soft thud, the paper coming loose to reveal several coins.
“Your pride does you no credit, Miss Bennet,” Lady Catherine observed coldly. “Particularly given your family’s circumstances.”
Elizabeth stood. “The conversation is over. I thank you for coming.”
Lady Catherine’s gloved hand shot out, taking Elizabeth’s arm. “Perhaps, I was too harsh, Miss Bennet.”
Elizabeth stared at Lady Catherine’s hand on her wrist until the older woman withdrew, pasting on an insincere smile.
“Come now, Miss Bennet.” Her tone softened. “I understand your predicament. Perhaps I can be of assistance.”
Her change of demeanor shocked Elizabeth. “Please, Lady Catherine. Do not trouble yourself on my behalf.”
“I do so not for you, but for my nephew.” Lady Catherine’s reptilian eyes remained unblinking. “Wickham’s false accusations. The duel. Your continued involvement in the scandal will hurt Darcy’s reputation among his peers. However, you are not without options, you know.”
Elizabeth regarded her warily. “I don’t mean to harm Darcy’s reputation. I can be discreet.”
“Yes, and perhaps we can work out a situation for you.” Lady Catherine reached into her reticule and withdrew more pound notes, adding them to the amount on the bench. “Many respectable men would overlook certain… indiscretions… in a wife, particularly when accompanied by even a modest dowry.”
“I cannot take your money.”
“Considered it earned by your discretion. No word of Darcy’s delusional claims must ever be repeated.
My nephew, for all his honor, has already suffered a stain.
If you acknowledge that you had never been compromised—neither in the sickroom nor at Hunsford parsonage—you can recover your dignity and station in life. ”
“Are you asking me to lie?”
“A gentlewoman understands the value of discretion.” Lady Catherine added another pound note to the pile. “A curate in my parish recently lost his wife. He has three small children in need of a mother’s care. I could speak to him on your behalf.”
The condescension in this offer—to recommend Elizabeth to a widowed curate as though conferring an extraordinary favor—was breathtaking in its audacity.
“How incredibly generous,” Elizabeth replied. “Though I fear I lack the temperament for such a position.”
“Perhaps something in trade, then,” Lady Catherine continued, as if discussing the placement of an unwanted servant. “My steward’s nephew has recently established himself as a draper in Bromley. A hardworking young man, I understand, though naturally lacking in refinement.”
“Your concern for my future is most touching, Lady Catherine, but I assure you it is unnecessary.”
“You may feel differently when this scandal has fully run its course,” Lady Catherine remarked icily. “The attention of gentlemen such as my nephew will fade, while the memory of impropriety lingers. I merely offer practical alternatives to unrealistic aspirations.”