Page 6 of The Making of Lady Catherine de Bourgh

Chapter six

T he next morning found Catherine splashing as much cool water on her face as was possible. Her tear-soaked pillow was flipped upside down to preserve what little dignity remained when Reynolds joined her. She almost inquired whether Reynolds might go fetch some snow from a nearby peak to reduce the red, puffy appearance of her face.

Alas, forgoing another meal would not be tolerated, and so she lifted her heavy skirt and made her way down to breakfast.

“Catherine, please come here.”

Her father’s booming voice escaped his study and caught up with her as she was passing by. She sighed with defeat as she turned to join her father. Unfortunately, her mother was also present.

“Good morning,” her father welcomed her and waved a hand towards a chair.

She took a seat quickly and squared her shoulders for their worst.

“Mr Darcy’s valet is packing his things now, but the gentleman can be found in the breakfast parlour.”

“Oh,” Catherine answered, startled. She had imagined him travelling at first light to escape Oakley.

Her mother chimed in, “We would like you to speak with him.”

Catherine’s revulsion at that suggestion must have been evident in her expression because her mother narrowed her eyes. “You will speak with him, young lady. And you will convince him to give you another chance. It is the only method we can comprehend to see our way through this situation without landing ourselves in the middle of a scandal! Do you want to be known as the lady who was jilted by a simple farmer?”

Her father chuckled at that. “A simple farmer? Is that what we are calling gentlemen who own half of Derbyshire these days?”

He turned a warmer expression on Catherine and steepled his hands under his chin. “My darling girl, I know this is difficult, but we have spoken at length. We do believe the best way forward is for you to apologize for your neglect and the behaviour of your sister and ask him if he is willing to start anew.”

“My neglect?”

He raised his eyebrows at her in question. “If you think we missed the way you ignored the man for two full days, you must think us all simple minded. I trust that you understand what must be done.”

Catherine huffed with annoyance. She had only resorted to that once all else had been attempted!

“What am I to say about my sister exactly?”

“You need to remind him that Lady Anne is not yet out and that she is too young to understand her appeal to gentlemen. Tell him you forgive him his part and remind Mr Darcy that it would not look good if society knew he was preying on young ladies still in the nursery.”

The nursery! Heavens above, that was an exaggeration. They had planned for Lady Anne to be out on the marriage mart in a few short weeks.

“I would hate for Mr Darcy to consider that a threat,” Catherine responded gingerly. The entire recommendation made her stomach turn with worry. Run, run, run. That bothersome voice inside roared once again. Detest him, she might, but she would not accuse the man of preying on young, innocent ladies.

“Then call it a promise,” her mother answered. “Tell yourself whatever you must to be easy. But we are decided that this will be better accepted coming from his bride than from the earl.”

Catherine’s head moved back and forth between her parents in confusion. They wanted her to threaten Mr Darcy with scandal. What level of absurdity must her life plunge to next! She had to remind herself to close her mouth, such was her alarm.

Catherine entered the breakfast room to find Mr Darcy alone—truly alone. Not a footman nor the butler remained. Steaming hot dishes sat out on the banquet table untouched, except for the small amount that the gentleman had chosen for his own plate.

Her entrance must have surprised him, for he looked startled from being deep in thought. Why he did not scurry off in the early morning hours, she would never know. If she were a man in his situation, she would have called for a servant to wake her before sunrise and would have been climbing into a carriage just as the sun cleared the horizon. Oakley would have been far behind. But this man stayed—how unusual.

“Good morning, sir.” Catherine curtseyed upon capturing his attention.

“My lady,” he responded in kind, standing to greet her.

Instead of filling a breakfast plate, Catherine stood tall and approached the table. Mr Darcy pulled out the chair she stood behind for her and asked her to join him.

Under the table, Catherine’s hands were gathered in her skirts with anxiousness; however, she sat still and courageously where Mr Darcy could see her. Strength of character had been engrained into her since her first breath. Fitzwilliams never stand down.

“I understand you are leaving for Pemberley this morning.”

“Yes, I am.”

“I owe you an apology.” The words left her lips, but her heart was not in it. Her very being quaked at being forced into this conversation.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I have no need to pardon you, sir,” she ground out. “It is I who should apologize for not allowing us more time to get to know one another. We should start anew. I will spend more time with you, and we can continue the path our parents have set for us.”

Mr Darcy looked suspicious and confused. “I fear there is no path forward for the two of us. I must apologize for my part in all of this business—” He waved his hand in the air as if to brush away the hurt and betrayal of his kissing her younger sister when he should have been proposing to her. If only it were that easy.

This was not going the way her parents requested, and Catherine interrupted him to continue on her mission. “I must also apologize for my sister.”

“Your sister?” His brow furrowed; his blue eyes injured.

The hurt in his eyes brought a pang of sympathy and completely confused Catherine about the next bit. “You should not prey on young girls.” That was not quite right.

“Pray, tell me what that is supposed to mean.”

“And young girls should apologize for—for—” Damn it all. “Well, I must apologize for my sister’s intolerable behaviour. She is not even out, sir. She does not know what it is like to be around eligible gentlemen just yet. You, see? I am sure you have been flattered by her attentions, but we must put that aside and move forward.”

“Lady Catherine.” Darcy stood from the table looking quite affronted, and Catherine panicked.

“Do not leave just yet, sir,” she said in desperation, staring at the door and praying no one would enter and that he would decide to stay rather than bolting at this very moment. “It is only that my father would like you to consider how this will look to society. You see—”

“I do not see! And I refuse to hear this any longer.” He began stepping towards the door. “If the earl would like to paint me as a man who—who—I cannot even repeat it, my lady.”

Catherine grabbed his arm in desperation, “Please, sir. We can continue a courtship. I forgive you. All is not forsaken—”

“There is nothing to continue! There was naught ever begun!”

Mr Darcy must have seen something in Catherine that created some sympathy, for he stopped his forward motion and gentled his tone. “My lady, please tell the earl I am at his disposal should he like to speak before I depart within the hour.”

His look of pity as he exited the room was mortifying. Catherine was ready to fling herself into the fireplace without delay. That would solve this problem! If she were dead too, Anne would be next in line to have him. And have him she may! Catherine did not care a whit for Mr Darcy.

Catherine waited some minutes before she too exited the breakfast room. She had no interest in seeing Mr George Darcy ever again.

As she was leaving the breakfast room in shame, her brother, Ashby, grabbed her by the arm in the corridor and pulled her into a quiet alcove.

“You must go to my study at once and calm your sister who will not stop caterwauling about her broken heart.”

Her brother’s indolence knew no bounds.

Patience running thin, Catherine took a deep breath before responding. “And how do you propose that I—the woman whom Mr Darcy was supposed to marry—am going to calm the woman who was cuckolding her future groom? Hmm?”

Catherine pinched the bridge of her nose. It was the first time in her life that she had spoken in such a way to her brother, but she had no patience left. Every thread of who she was seemed to be fraying this very day.

Lord Ashby continued, “How should I know what to say to the girl? You are her sister. You know her best. I cannot possibly demand that my wife handle this. She is far too important to waste her time with such passionate antics. It is beneath her!”

But not beneath Catherine. Message received.

It was strange to be named the person in this house who knew her sister best, when she understood her motives little.

They were nearer to strangers than friends.

“How should I know how to pacify Anne?” Catherine cried out.

“Are you not a female? Go reason with the girl. She is beset by personal grievances, and I have no temper to resolve them. Tell her to go speak to Darcy.”

“I certainly will not.” Why did everyone expect Catherine to fix this problem? Had not she displayed her incompetency adequately?

“She needs to tell Darcy that she has no fondness for him and that he should propose to you.”

“This family has gone mad! I shall go and do as I am told, but then I am done. Done with Mr Darcy and done taking advice from any of you.”

Mortified or not, Catherine removed her arm from her brother’s grip and moved towards the stairs. She ought to get this interesting conversation over with.

It was possible she might feel even more foolish after this next interview, which would offer some nauseating continuity.

Catherine did not address her sister upon entering the room. The surprise and hurt on Anne’s face was enough to make her second guess her abysmal choice to attend to her sister, but go forward she must.

Taking her brother’s place behind his desk, she placed both hands on the smooth wood and gathered some courage. “You must go to Darcy at once.” A ray of hope shot through her sister’s shiny, blue eyes. “And you must tell him you do not care for him—that it is I he must marry. Do it now. We have no more time to waste. He is departing within the hour.”

“I could never!” Anne wailed.

“Just as I suspected.”

Catherine stood immediately and departed. She had no time for her sister’s fervour and heartbreak either. Let the viscount handle it.

“All the kitchen girls were crying over the departure of Mr Darcy’s valet,” Reynolds gossiped while preparing Catherine for bed.

“Mmm.” Reynolds had a knack for overstepping, and Catherine was almost at her limit. Tears threatened to escape, but she held them back. She would not put on such an undignified performance as her sister had.

“But do not feel bad, my lady. They shall get over it soon enough. They are not angry with you. They understand these sorts of things.”

Catherine was not sure what “sort of thing” this was. Was it Anne’s betrayal? Was it a gentleman who turned out to be a coward? Was it meddling parents who forced two people together who were never going to marry?

Or was it simply the loss of the best sister in the world and the life a gentleman had dreamed of having with her? It was unlike Catherine to be so sentimental, but the shock waves of Eloise’s death continued to reverberate through her life, and she suspected they would for the remainder of her days.