Page 52 of Sketching Mr. Darcy
She was allowed the required privacy, but as soon as the Darcy siblings left, Elizabeth felt ill for being so bitter. Her reason told her that she allowed herself to be tricked into that distress, but she failed to do otherwise.
She first felt offended that the Matlocks might pretend to favour her only to assure Darcy an honourable marriage, an heir, and a guard against other distractions.
That would explain their strangely warm behaviour.
Then, the more she thought, the clearer she understood that, even if Lady Stafford were correct, she had little to reproach anyone.
It was, after all, logical for the Matlocks to be on friendly terms with her for reasons of their own as they had not come to know her well enough to appreciate her merits.
And if Darcy wished to marry and have an heir, that was a natural desire too.
His behaviour towards her was beyond reproach.
He did everything to persuade her but nothing to force her will.
If he were in hurry for an heir, he would have been…
more insistent in consummating their marriage, yet he continued to be patient and caring.
Slowly, she managed to see things with less emotion. If Lady Stafford was still close to her husband, she would not put him in such a scandalous situation, nor would she keep approaching him, even when he was with his sister.
That Lady Stafford was very well informed of many details from his life was beyond doubt.
And that she seemed very confident while she implied how well she knew him, his desires, and his inclination proved that there must be some truth beyond her words.
And Elizabeth could not deny that she felt troubled and disturbed by that revelation.
***
Sometime later, Elizabeth’s reason won over her emotions, and she felt guilty for rejecting Georgiana’s attempt at comfort.
The girl was so kind and caring—and in her case, Elizabeth could not suspect any hidden motives.
She knocked on her sister’s apartment. When she was invited in, she saw Mrs Annesley sitting at the edge of the bed as Georgiana leant against the pillows, having a cup of tea.
“I came to speak to you, but I see you are resting. I shall return later.”
“Oh no, I am happy to see you. Please take a seat. Would you like a cup of tea?”
“I am afraid Miss Darcy is a little…indisposed,” Mrs Annesley said, and Georgiana blushed.
“I see—may I help you with anything, dearest? Are you unwell?”
“Oh, nothing, thank you. I shall stay in bed for a couple of days and read. But I am afraid I will not join you at dinner tonight nor at the Opera tomorrow—would you mind?”
“Not at all, my dear. But are you sure you are well? I can stay home and keep you company.”
“Thank you, it will not be necessary. Mrs Annesley is here. But are you well, Elizabeth?”
“Yes, very well, I assure you.”
They talked a few minutes until Mrs Annesley excused herself, and then Georgiana spoke freely. “Elizabeth, please do not be upset with William. I saw you tried to evade his company earlier, but he was worried for you. It pains me to see you angry with him.”
Elizabeth smiled at how much Georgiana reminded her of Jane. She took her hand gently. “I was a little upset but not at William. It is just that…I shall try to control my temper better.”
“Oh, you should do that because William has a very bad temper, too,” the girl whispered.
“It is then fortunate that you are the sweetest and most gentle person and will compensate for us. If my sister Jane comes to visit, there will be a perfect balance as she is just like you.”
Georgiana blushed in embarrassment at such praise and averted her eyes for a moment.
“Elizabeth, there is something I must confess to you. When William told me about your marriage, I had decided to be cautious and to keep a distance from someone who seemed to marry my brother without valuing his qualities and having no affection for him. Forgive my indiscretion, but my brother told me the particulars of your wedding. And yet, only a few days have passed since then, and I am so happy to have you here. I could not wish for a better sister. And I hope you and William will overcome any obstacles and be very happy.”
“Nor could I hope for more affection than you offered me, Georgiana. And please do not believe that I do not value William’s qualities—quite the contrary. It is just that… it was rather difficult for me—for both of us, I believe—to have no choice in the matter.”
“Yes, I imagined as much. But I feel that William had a choice. Do you know that he wrote me about you when you stayed at Netherfield? He seemed to admire you even then.” The girl smiled, pleased with herself while Elizabeth looked at her in disbelief.
“Surely, you are joking…”
“I am not. Is it true that one evening you were invited to play cards but you preferred to read? And that you said a sonnet can kill a weak love? William was so amused by that! Do you need more proofs?”
Elizabeth’s astonishment delighted Georgiana exceedingly, so when Mrs Annesley returned to the room, Miss Darcy was laughing while Mrs Darcy seemed strangely silent.
Eventually, Elizabeth returned to her apartment to prepare for dinner, disturbed by this new knowledge. Her husband confessed that he admired her while they were in Hertfordshire, but the fact that he wrote about her to his sister was nearly shocking.
Overwhelming warmth spread from her stomach to her entire body while she found herself smiling for no reason.
What an extraordinary thing to be told by her new, caring sister!
Did she need more proofs—as Georgiana asked in jest—to be convinced that he had a choice, that he did not propose just because he was forced to, and that he would not have proposed to any other woman in her place?
Surely not. Despite the heat that coloured her cheeks, she started shivering, wondering whether she was pleased or disturbed by the discovery.
She heard Darcy’s strong voice censuring the dogs, and she suddenly had the answer to that delicate question: she was deeply disturbed—but also very pleased.
She was tempted to see what the dogs were doing—what he was doing—but she remained still, her eyes closed, her mind suddenly freed from any unpleasant thoughts.
After a few minutes, she noticed a sealed letter on the table with a handwriting she did not recognise.
Curious, she opened it and glanced at the end, then smiled as she discovered the author: Lady Catherine de Bourgh.
She sat comfortably in the chair, prepared to enjoy the criticism and the burst of disapproval of Mr Darcy’s aunt and Mr Collins’s benefactor.
Miss Elizabeth Bennet,
Be assured that I shall never address you in any other way than that, as I shall never recognise the outrageous alliance in which you trapped my nephew, nor shall I willingly ever mention your name.
As the weather and your horrible manipulations did not allow me to intervene before this vile act of deception took place, it is with the greatest contempt that I address you with this letter, letting you know my true feelings about you.
What kind of woman are you since you have no feeling of propriety and delicacy and no trace of honour or decorum?
You trapped my nephew into an outrageous scheme that made him forget that he has been engaged to my daughter since they were in the cradle and forced him to enter into a family of the lowest kind, who will pollute the shades of Pemberley!
You have no regard for the honour or credit of my nephew and you have disgraced him in the eyes of everybody, throwing upon him a shame that only death could wash away!
Be not content and happy with your unexpected fortune, Miss Bennet, nor imagine that your ambition of greatness and climbing society’s ranks will ever be gratified.
You must know that my nephew only accepted the alliance with you for his conviction that you would be stronger than my daughter to bear the heirs he expects.
But I suspect you already knew that, as not even you can be so self-deceiving as to imagine that you are worth anything more.
And surely you must imagine what will happen should you not provide him with a male heir.
If such a very probable outcome occurs, I wonder what you and your family will do since I strongly advised Mr Collins that, in the event of your father’s death, he should separate from all of you as quickly as possible.
I did not have the chance of meeting you, and I hope I never will!
I am praying that you will not stay long at my nephew’s side and that the Lord will soon rectify my nephew’s reckless error!
If you happen to provide a child by then, it will at least be raised in an honourable family with proper education and with a mother a Darcy and Fitzwilliam heir deserves!
Lady Catherine de Bourg h
Elizabeth ended the letter breathless, and her heart almost burst from her chest. Her hands were trembling so badly that she dropped the paper. She could feel tears falling down her face until she felt their saltiness on her lips.
She wiped her face furiously, clenching her teeth together.
She tried to rise, but her feet would not support her.
She gazed at the piece of paper, still unable to believe what she read.
Such a malicious attack, such a humiliating insult, such an abominable abuse could not possibly belong to someone with such wealth, education, and status in society! And a relative of her husband!
That Lady Catherine would hate her for interrupting the imaginary engagement between her daughter and Darcy—Elizabeth expected and understood.
To have that hate loudly expressed—she was not surprised.
But to read those curses, that unconcealed desire for her to die, the revenge against her family—Elizabeth never could have imagined, and she found herself unable to endure.