Page 55 of The Shades of Pemberley
Having said enough, Bingley allowed the subject to rest. Though Caroline had not been all ambition and lust to rise in society, he thought those traits—that still existed—would give way to other, more important considerations.
Of perhaps utmost importance was that whatever bile Caroline harbored when she returned from Netherfield, she had not unleashed to her friends.
Now Caroline would be Mrs. Darcy’s most fervent proponent.
Given Bingley’s interest in Miss Bennet, he was content, knowing that his sister would not oppose his pursuit of her for some silly notions of directing him to some heiress he would not appreciate.
While this had not been Bingley’s only motive in speaking to his sister, the relief her changes wrought was welcome, indeed.
THE SHOCKS CATHERINE had endured were never-ending, as she was to discover the moment she returned to Rosings Park.
Catherine was unaccustomed to having her will thwarted—so shocked was she that she could not conceive of what to do in the face of Darcy’s betrayal.
The dream of having Pemberley and Rosings united was now ashes, and those remnants would soon take flight before a storm she had never expected to endure.
The first sign of incipient change was the carriage drawn up on the drive, prepared to depart.
As curious as the sight was, Catherine obtained no information from the stable hands, for her queries resulted in little more than the response that Miss de Bourgh had ordered it readied for her use.
Unable to fathom what Anne was about, she entered the house intending to discover her daughter’s location.
That was not difficult, as Anne was in the entrance hall, her maid tying the bow of her bonnet around her neck.
Anne was clothed in a travel gown and a long flowing coat over top, the gloves on her hands, the supple leather gloves she only used when she went out in her phaeton.
“Anne!” exclaimed Catherine on seeing her. “What do you do here?”
“Mother,” said Anne, no hint of warmth in her voice. “You made better time from Hertfordshire than I expected. In truth, I hoped to be long gone before you arrived.”
“Long gone?” echoed Catherine. “What do you mean? This is unseemly, for you know that your health does not support whatever silliness you are contemplating.”
“My health, Mother,” retorted Anne in a tone quite foreign to Catherine, “is not so poor as you might suppose. Though I am not robust, I am capable of much more than you have ever supposed.”
A familiar anger, such a part of her daily life, welled up within Catherine’s breast, sufficient to render her voice raspy at her daughter’s defiance. “You shall not speak to me in such a way, Anne. I have kept you all these years, taking the greatest care of your needs. I must have your respect.”
Anne snorted, an indelicate noise such as Catherine had never heard from her daughter.
“Yes, Mother, I suppose you must cling to such notions as these, for you have nothing else.
Had I any notion that you considered my wellbeing instead of your selfish desires in the matter of Cousin Darcy and your lust to lord over Pemberley, I might thank you for the ‘care and attention’ you have provided to me all these years.
“As it is, I know the truth. I am now three and twenty and have never had a season because you deemed it useless, as I was to marry Darcy. You have not even allowed me to do something so sedentary as play the piano, all for your supposed concern for my health.
“I shall not accept such casual tyranny as this any longer, Mother.” The venom in Anne’s voice was only matched by her implacable disdain. “I shall depart at once and throw myself on the mercy of my uncle, for I know he will not keep me in a gilded cage as a hostage to his dynastic ambitions.”
Catherine could not muster a response, for she did not understand what was happening.
Did Anne not wish to have such a life as she would have had as Darcy’s wife?
Even the present Darcy, though not carrying the noble blood of the Fitzwilliams in his veins, would have been an acceptable husband, for Pemberley and the Darcy standing were what mattered. How was she to understand this?
“I see you have no comprehension,” said Anne, interrupting Catherine’s jumble of thoughts.
“It is my sincere hope you learn someday, Mother, for otherwise you will live a lonely life. If you can bring yourself to repent for your deeds, there may be some chance of rapprochement. Until that day, I want nothing further to do with you.”
Then, without an acknowledgment or even a backward glance, Anne departed, taking her maid with her. As the rumble of the carriage’s wheels faded into the distance, Catherine stood stock still in the entrance, staring at the door through which her only child had just departed.
LORD JACOB MATLOCK was enjoying the company of his niece and her friends far more than he had supposed.
As his youngest daughter had married and departed from his house the previous year, and his younger son only stayed with them when he was in town, he had grown accustomed to an empty house with only his wife for company.
Hosting three ladies, two of whom were under the age of eighteen, brought back a sense of nostalgia he had not thought he would ever recall.
Georgiana, of course, was long known to him as his sister’s daughter, but she was so quiet that it was not difficult to overlook her presence.
Miss Bennet was also a soft and reticent woman, of such gentle manners and character that Matlock did not think anyone who met her could dislike her.
Miss Kitty, however, was not only lively, but she was not shy in sharing her opinion, often when she should not.
In many ways, she affected the behavior of his niece, who had taken Miss Kitty’s measure and emulated her to a certain degree, though he did not suppose she would ever be so open.
“Do not concern yourself for Miss Kitty,” said his wife one evening when he offered a comment on the subject. “By the time she is ready to enter society, she shall be a proper, yet lively young lady.”
“Yes, I am not surprised you would take her under your wing,” mused Matlock. “The girl is not precisely improper, but she has a habit of blurting out whatever is on her mind.”
“Aye, that she does,” agreed his wife. “Yet I believe I have already seen a change in her manners. It is Miss Lydia who will be the greater challenge.”
“Then it is fortunate she is two years younger.” Matlock smirked at his wife. “I cannot imagine any girl could resist your instruction, so I suspect she will end much like her sister.”
“You are correct to believe in my abilities.”
Matlock shook his head with fondness; his wife was truly an excellent woman. He was fortunate to have her in his life.
“What of Miss Bennet and that Bingley fellow?”
Susan shook her head. “I need do nothing on that score, for I have never seen a man as besotted with a woman as Mr. Bingley.”
“Oh, to be certain,” agreed Matlock.
Since arriving in town, Miss Bennet had accompanied them to a few events they had attended.
Her beauty turned heads wherever she went, not that she noticed or hinted at superiority because of her ability to attract attention.
Matlock knew at least a part of the interest she had generated was because society at large knew her to be the sister of the mysterious new Mrs. Darcy.
As Darcy was known in society to a degree, most of those wondered about the new Mrs. Darcy, but Miss Bennet was impervious to them all.
“I wonder how long it will be before Bingley must endure a challenge to his control of her attention. The lure of a connection to the Darcy family is not insubstantial—other men might see a path forward in her gentle manners.”
“If she were any other woman, she might not receive so much attention even then. Beauty and angelic manners will convince many to swing the balance in favor of her connection to Darcy over her origins.”
“Yes, I suppose it will.”
“Perhaps I should have a word with Bingley,” mused Lord Matlock. “If he is not prepared for interference, it may come as a shock to his sensibilities.”
Susan laughed. “I think you do not need to worry about such things, Jacob. Mr. Bingley knows what he is about. Miss Bennet is a woman who will put at naught such things as standing and wealth, so I cannot imagine she will look away from Mr. Bingley even if others attempt to distract her.”
“I am certain you must be correct.”
The one member of the party at the house was not a member of the family as such, for a companion was nothing more than a glorified servant in the end.
Matlock had met Mrs. Younge, of course, but he had exchanged but few words with her.
To his mind, she appeared to grow ever surlier by the day, and while he did not understand her, he was soon to learn the reason for her unhappiness.
“Lord Matlock,” said she one day, not long after their arrival, after asking for a moment of his time. “I have a matter I should like to discuss with you.”
“Yes, Mrs. Younge?”
The woman gathered herself, leaving Matlock bemused. It was curious, to say the least. She was not employed by him; her wages were paid by the Darcy estate. Her behavior was odd from what Matlock had seen of such women.
“I believe, your lordship, that it would be best to separate Miss Darcy from Miss Kitty.” The inflection in her voice told Matlock that Mrs. Younge was little less than contemptuous toward the young Bennet girl.
“Before his passing, Mr. Jameson Darcy and I spoke of a holiday for Miss Darcy, which she earned by her diligence in her studies. The proposed location for the holiday was Ramsgate, which the master is using at present, but I think the lakes would be an equally desirable location, and I know there is a Darcy property there.”
“Yes, there is,” agreed Matlock, wondering at her insistence on this scheme, for he was aware she had pushed it to Darcy more than once. “What I cannot understand is why you believe it is necessary, as Georgiana appears comfortable in London and has become famous friends with Miss Kitty.”
“If I may speak plainly,” said Mrs. Younge, “Miss Kitty’s influence on Miss Darcy is not beneficial to her behavior.
She is a member of an influential society family, and I have tried to train her to be a credit when she comes out.
If she continues in this vein, it will undo the work I have done and lessen her in the eyes of her future peers.
We must separate her from this disruptive influence! ”
“Mrs. Younge,” said Matlock, any bemusement he felt washing away before the effrontery of her language, “I believe that is quite enough. Please recall that you are an employee of the Darcy family and have no say in with whom they associate.”
“Lord Matlock, I do not mean to disparage the girl,” said Mrs. Younge, clearly attempting to control her temper. “You do not see them in unguarded moments as I do. The girl is not a beneficial influence on Miss Darcy; I feel it is my duty to point out the drawbacks of the acquaintance to you.”
“Again, I will ask that you cease this objectionable behavior.”
Mrs. Younge fell silent, but her displeasure was not hidden.
“You will not raise this subject with me again. Do not suppose that I am so blind as to be unaware of the behavior of my niece in my house. I have noticed nothing, and more to the point, my wife has noted an overall improvement in Georgiana’s spirits.
“Remember your place and do not speak in such a way again, for you are not irreplaceable. Now, return to your charge, for I will hear nothing further.”
“What do you suppose she means by it?” asked his wife when he told her of the event later that evening.
“I cannot say that I know,” replied Matlock. “This is not the first time she has proposed this holiday, for she mentioned it to Darcy and Anthony several times, and she has grown more insistent.”
“The notion that Kitty is causing Georgiana to misbehave is absurd,” said Susan. “The girls are thick as thieves. They both provide something the other lacks; Kitty has changed more than Georgiana, if anything.”
Matlock nodded. “I shall raise the subject with Darcy when he returns. I do not suppose he understands Mrs. Younge’s insistence any more than I do, but he should know, regardless.”
“It may be time to search for a new companion.”
“I do not disagree, but I shall leave the details to Darcy and Anthony.”