Page 5 of Superior Connections

T he family dined with Lady Rosseford, and Elizabeth ate in her room. Meeting her ladyship was the perfect end to a troublesome and tiring day.

Elizabeth had known about her father’s aunt her entire life, and had heard many stories about her, but she had never met her. Her father kept up a regular correspondence with the lady, who was his father’s younger sister; or as regular a correspondence as possible with someone living abroad.

From her father’s stories, she knew the lady had eloped when she was nineteen and married an officer — Jeffrey Lambert — whom her father had rejected, which had caused a scandal in the family.

She had followed her husband to India, where they had lived for several years until the officer received news he had inherited a small estate in Derbyshire. They had then returned to England, but six years later, Mr Lambert had died tragically. His widow had spent the following years between Derbyshire and London. Around the age of forty-five, she had met the Earl of Rosseford, who was more than ten years her senior and had no close family. She had married him, and the couple had moved to Ireland, where she had lived for twenty years. The earl had died two years ago, and at that time, Mr Bennet had mentioned to his family for the first time that his aunt intended to move back to England. The Bennets being her only blood relatives, she had expressed her desire to meet them and build a close relationship with them.

When Mrs Bennet had first heard the news, she had been overjoyed. They all assumed the lady’s wealth was similar to Mr Bennet’s, but Mrs Bennet hoped for some better connections that someday might place her daughters in the way of young men in possession of a good fortune and in want of a wife.

Two weeks ago, Mr Bennet had informed them that Lady Rosseford would arrive in Hertfordshire before the end of November — and here she was, at the same time as Mr Collins. One pleasant and desired guest — the other not so much.

What was revealed during their earlier conversation was all new to Elizabeth. That the Gardiners were acquainted with the lady, that Mr Gardiner was in charge of her affairs — what affairs? — and that the lady could afford, with apparent ease, to purchase a house near Hyde Park as well as Stoke Park, hire a full household of servants, and decorate both houses was beyond their estimation. That her father had chosen to keep the secret was also unusual, but Elizabeth was accustomed to his peculiarities. Given her mother’s likely response when she finally found out, her father’s decision seemed logical.

Her thoughts moved from her aunt to Mr Darcy’s expected presence at dinner the following evening. That was also surprising and made her anxious for unknown reasons. After all, she should be pleased by the opportunity to see him again and thank him under more comfortable circumstances. The fact that Lady Rosseford was acquainted with his family was an interesting coincidence but did not affect Elizabeth’s relationship with that gentleman.

Curiously, of Mr Wickham, she did not think much. She was determined to ask him for more details about his story, but she was less affected than she expected by the potential result of her examination.

Jane came up to bed, bringing Elizabeth another cup of Mr Jones’s tea.

“I adore our aunt,” Jane declared. “She is a little bit frightening, though. She has a dangerous inclination to make sport of people. Like Papa, but even worse. Or better.”

Elizabeth laughed. “I am sure I shall adore her too.”

“Lizzy, Papa requested we not tell anyone about Stoke Park yet.”

“Very well. I believe it is Lady Rosseford’s prerogative to tell people when she wishes to.”

“You know, I think…she seems to be very rich. I mean — very .”

“It seems so. There are so many things we do not know yet. But it does not matter, after all. I hope she will like us and we shall like her, regardless of where she lives.”

“I do like her very much so far. Poor Mr Collins — he is not very successful at flattering her.” Jane chuckled.

“I can imagine. The only good thing about my accident is that I have been able to avoid Mr Collins.”

After the second cup of tea, Elizabeth’s eyelids became heavy, and she fell into a deep sleep. She woke up a few times during the night, sensing Jane’s hand pressing to her forehead to examine her for a fever, but sleep overcame her again instantly. Her dreams were agitated, with Mr Darcy in most of them, but when she woke in the morning, she could not remember anything clearly.

∞∞∞

The next day, immediately after breakfast, Mr Jones returned to examine her. He was pleased that there had been no fever overnight, nor other signs of illness. As for her ankle, the bleeding had stopped, the swelling was reduced, and only the skin was still bruised and dark.

While Mr Jones bandaged the injury again, Elizabeth quivered remembering that Mr Darcy had offered to ‘look at it’. She did not even allow herself to imagine what that might mean. Taking off her stocking? How? Touching her bare skin? Brushing his fingers over it to clean and bandage it? Mr Jones was doing all that, and the notion that it could have been Mr Darcy instead was disturbing.

Regarding dinner, Mr Jones repeated his previous advice: Elizabeth could attend if she did not put weight on her foot until then, kept it raised during dinner, and returned to rest for the night shortly afterwards. Elizabeth felt relieved and anxious at the same time, knowing there was no obstacle to seeing Mr Darcy again.

She spent the first part of the day in bed, as promised, and at around four o’clock, Jane helped her prepare for the evening. When she was ready, she walked down the hall with infinite care, holding onto the wall and onto Jane. Her steps were nowhere near as painful as the previous day. At the top of the stairs, Tom and Peter were waiting to carry her down. They entwined their hands together as if making a chair, and she sat upon them, grasping their shoulders. Her sisters, her parents, Mr Collins, and Lady Rosseford were all watching.

“I am so sorry for giving everyone all this trouble,” Elizabeth said as she was taken directly to the dining room.

She sat on an armchair placed in the middle of the table; Jane arranged a stool under the table and placed Elizabeth’s foot on it.

“Thank you, dearest. And thank you, Tom and Peter. You may laugh at me as much as you want. I do not mind.”

“We are not laughing, Miss Lizzy,” Tom replied, while neither could conceal their amusement.

“Well, I knew this would happen one day,” Mrs Bennet said. “Wandering about the fields, alone, regardless of the weather and the mud! You walk to Netherfield, you walk to Oakham Mount — nobody else does such things! I am ashamed what Lady Rosseford will think of you. And of me, as your mother who has not raised you properly.”

“My dear Frances, I have the best opinion of you. You have raised five pretty and charming daughters. As for Lizzy — I cannot blame her. When I was younger, I enjoyed walking and riding. Accidents happen. Nobody could blame either of you for that.”

“Lady Catherine always insists that young women must act properly and cautiously in order to not endanger their health or their reputation,” Mr Collins intervened.

Lady Rosseford threw him a sharp glare, and Elizabeth realised the man had put himself in danger.

“Well, Lizzy has ruined both,” Mrs Bennet continued. “Mr Darcy must have been appalled to see you like that! He had already called you tolerable and did not want to dance with you when you looked your best. I hope he will not gossip about it, or else nobody will dance with you ever again.”

“Mr Darcy did what? When?” Lady Rosseford enquired, frowning.

“It is an old story,” Elizabeth explained. “It happened on his first evening in Meryton, at an assembly. Mr Darcy and I actually talked about it yesterday. He offered me an explanation and apologised for his behaviour, and I forgave him.”

“Well, if he thought you were tolerable, he seems to have poor taste in women,” the lady concluded.

“I am sure Mr Darcy is accustomed to the most beautiful young ladies in town, so his tastes are different from most people’s,” Mr Collins said.

The offence was so harsh that it was laughable, and Elizabeth smiled at her father.

“Mr Collins, do you ever realise what offensive things you say?” Lady Rosseford interjected. “Even your compliments are rude most of the time. What could you possibly mean? That Lizzy deserves to be called tolerable because she is not as pretty as the women Mr Darcy is accustomed to?”

The scolding, the harsh voice, and Lady Rosseford’s demanding expression made Mr Collins visibly panic. He stared at the lady, his eyes and mouth open.

“I am sorry if your ladyship—” he struggled to reply but was interrupted again.

“Do not be sorry, Mr Collins, just try not to do it again. We should mind our words even if we are family. Now let us sit. I shall take this chair here, next to Lizzy.”

Mr Collins sat too, looking upset and confused.

The conversation continued until the gentlemen from Netherfield arrived at the expected time. Polite greetings were exchanged, then Mr Bennet invited them to choose a chair at their convenience. Mr Bingley hesitated briefly, then sat next to Jane. Mr Darcy preferred the place to Mr Bennet’s right, and from there, he cast repeated glances at Elizabeth. She felt cold, then too warm, and when their eyes met, her cheeks were burning.

“So, Mr Bingley, it is lovely to meet you. I have heard many things about you,” Lady Rosseford said.

“And I am honoured to make your acquaintance, your ladyship. I was surprised and delighted when Darcy told me about your presence.”

“And Mr Darcy, you look much better, sir. And as handsome as I expected. Oh, do not blush. All the men in your family have been handsome, and your mother was a beautiful woman, so I cannot give you credit for something you simply inherited.”

Mr Darcy blushed indeed, looking disconcerted. He glanced at Elizabeth, then sipped from his glass and cleared his throat. Elizabeth covered her mouth with her napkin to conceal her amusement. Lady Rosseford’s sense of humour seemed as dangerous as Jane had feared, and Mr Darcy was her second victim of the evening, following Mr Collins.

“I do not wish to take any credit, your ladyship,” Mr Darcy responded. “I take pride in and am grateful for everything I have inherited from my family. Including my appearance, whether it might be called handsome or not.”

“Ah, that is a good answer,” the lady responded.

“If you do not mind me saying so, Mr Darcy,” Mrs Bennet uttered, “when we first saw you, we all agreed you were very handsome. That is, until—” She stopped, minding her words, though everybody knew she meant his arrogant manners at the assembly.

“Mr Darcy,” Mr Bennet interjected, “it is not for me to judge a man’s looks, but I do appreciate generosity. For that, I am grateful to you. We all are.”

“May I ask how Miss Elizabeth is feeling? I can see she looks very well.”

“I feel very well, sir,” Elizabeth replied. “Mr Jones was very pleased with the last examination. I hope to be completely recovered very soon, and I have you to thank for that.”

Mr Darcy looked at her; their eyes met again and locked briefly, long enough for her to quiver again. He sipped from his glass, then said, “While I admit the subject made me very uncomfortable, I would rather hear you talking about my handsome appearance than about thanks and gratitude for a gesture that any honourable man would have made.”

Elizabeth nodded, her cheeks on fire, wondering whether any gentleman would carry any injured woman in his arms.

Lady Rosseford laughed.

“Another excellent reply, Mr Darcy. More agreeable than a handsome gentleman is a clever, witty one. Of course, if he possesses both qualities, that is even better.”

“I dare say that can apply both to men and women,” Mr Darcy said. He spoke to her aunt, but for a moment, he glanced at Elizabeth, causing her puzzlement and more quivering.

“When she was at Netherfield, I enjoyed seeing Miss Elizabeth arguing with Darcy,” Mr Bingley said. “They could hardly agree on anything. I do not think I have ever seen another young lady argue with Darcy. Which is to Miss Elizabeth’s credit, of course!”

“This is precisely why I am worried about Lizzy,” Mrs Bennet said. “Quarrelling with Mr Darcy? Of course, most other young women do not do that because they know to show prudence and demureness. Only my daughter is stubborn and disobedient.”

“As much as I admire my cousin Elizabeth, I must agree with Mrs Bennet,” Mr Collins interjected. “Stubbornness and disobedience are undesirable traits of character. Especially for a clergyman, or for a clergyman’s wife. I know Lady Catherine de Bourgh shares my opinion.”

“To me,” Mr Darcy interjected, “wit and determination are excellent assets for any man or woman. I cannot agree that what is praised in a man can be objectionable in a woman.”

Again, he looked at Elizabeth, and again, she quivered and her cheeks warmed. Annoyed by her silly responses to everything Mr Darcy said or did, she hesitated to join the conversation.

“Mr Darcy, I cannot remember when I have last agreed so much with a man I barely know,” Lady Rosseford uttered. “Your judgment is flawless to me.”

Then the lady turned to Mr Collins.

“And Mr Collins, you are entitled to your opinion, and I agree that most men share it. I find nothing wrong in the traits you consider undesirable, but I expect any man would be wise enough to marry a woman who possesses qualities that are suited to him. For instance, it would be foolish for a clergyman to marry a woman — as pretty and charming as she might be — if she is unsuitable as a clergyman’s wife. Especially if she does not meet Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s standards. Would you not agree? I am sure you would never make such a mistake.”

Mr Collins looked dumbfounded, glancing at Mrs Bennet — who appeared disconcerted too but did not dare contradict the illustrious aunt. Elizabeth and her father exchanged amused glances but said nothing.

“Yes…certainly…I do agree… I mean — your ladyship is right, of course,” he finally mumbled.

“Good. I am very happy that we all agree on so many subjects tonight. And look, dinner is served. I am sure it will be as delicious as last evening,” the lady concluded.

As the meal progressed, the conversation touched on more neutral subjects. Lady Rosseford enquired about Netherfield, about each gentleman’s sisters, about the ball, and about their plans afterwards. The atmosphere was pleasant, and the discussions unfolded slowly, with Mr Collins being almost completely silent and Mr Darcy more talkative than Elizabeth had ever seen him.

Elizabeth observed him carefully, admitting that his manners were improved not just towards Lady Rosseford but also towards her parents and even her sisters. He did not possess Mr Bingley’s easy, amiable manners, but he was not his usual proud, arrogant self either. At times, Mr Darcy glanced at her, and although she was not completely composed, she felt more at ease with him.

By the time dinner was over and the gentlemen were preparing to leave, Elizabeth's ankle was beginning to ache. For a moment, she entertained the absurd thought that Mr Darcy would offer again to carry her. Of course, he did not even mention it, and when the time came, Tom and Peter helped her to her room.

That night, Elizabeth had many things to reflect upon. Mr Darcy’s remarks about witty, determined women reminded her of other opinions she had heard from him at Netherfield — like those about accomplished women. As ridiculous as it seemed, she could not avoid wondering whether he had been talking about her.

There was one thing she did not have to worry about any longer: due to Lady Rosseford’s intervention, Mr Collins would surely never propose to her. And that was a huge relief.