Some Particular Evil

Chapter 20

CHAPTER TWENTY

“ O h, Mother, it is not as if he is here to see it. Nor do I believe he would recognise it if he were,” argued Miss de Bourgh in a voice far stronger than her usual dull chirp.

The two had been at it when the parsonage party appeared at the entrance to Rosings’s drawing room, but they did not seem to register their presence.

“It is incomprehensible to me that you should even wish to look at it, much less flaunt it as if it were just another pretty bauble,” Lady Catherine chided in her usual manner of giving her opinion decidedly. The colonel set down the handful of letters he had been about to open and cleared his throat in an apparent effort to remind the women that they were no longer alone. Lady Catherine cast her eyes towards Elizabeth and the others when they were announced and added, “And in company, too!”

Elizabeth tried not to appear as eager to hear the back-and-forth as she was.

“It is not just another pretty bauble. It belonged to my sainted Aunt Anne, and it reminds me of her. You should be glad to see it, as you worship her so,” Anne replied with a flippancy Elizabeth did not think the sickly woman to possess.

The pendant once belonged to Mr Darcy’s mother?

“My dear sister, whom I have not seen these sixteen years, whose name has been dragged through the muck so undeservedly, would not wish you to flaunt your stolen jewels,” she hissed with finality, clearly wishing to end the conversation.

“Excessive grief, Mother, is an enemy to the living.” Now Miss de Bourgh was quoting Shakespeare. Elizabeth wondered if it was from the same work Colonel Fitzwilliam cited earlier. She could not say.

Lady Anne Darcy has not been seen by her sister for sixteen years? And Miss de Bourgh had stolen her jewels? Elizabeth did not even realise her hand had flown to her mouth as she heard the two ladies discuss such things. She had thought Mr Darcy’s parents both deceased; could his mother have abandoned her family? No wonder Mr Darcy had reacted so coldly when his aunt had spoken of his mother their last evening together at Rosings. Surely, this had been a scandal of no mean size. The lady of a house as grand as Pemberley could not do such a thing without upsetting the entire neighbourhood—or the county for that matter!

Anne de Bourgh sighed dismissively, replying, “We have been over this. She was gone; it was not as if she could use them.”

Gone .

Colonel Fitzwilliam strode towards Elizabeth and greeted her party with what might have been a bit too voluble a welcome, clearly attempting to distract them while also likely signalling to the de Bourgh ladies that a change of subject was warranted.

“They should have stayed where they were,” Lady Catherine persisted in lowered tones, “until they were bestowed upon you as the next mistress of Pemberley.”

“I was never going to be the mistress of Pemberley, though, was I?” Miss de Bourgh asked as her gaze shifted pointedly towards Elizabeth.

Elizabeth pinked. Could they have known of Darcy’s attachment to her? Surely, he would not have spoken of it with these women he could barely tolerate before bringing it to the attention of the object of his affections, would he? She was confident that he would not. Still, it was clear that Miss de Bourgh at least understood where her cousin’s heart lay.

“Well,” interjected Colonel Fitzwilliam deliberately, “she will certainly be a fortunate lady, whoever she is. Darcy is a most loyal friend.”

Miss de Bourgh groaned, cutting her cousin off before he could expound. “Must we continually speak of Darcy? Are there no other topics of interest on which we might converse?”

“I would like to take the opportunity to say, my dear Miss de Bourgh, how exultant I am to see you so in health,” Mr Collins said. “Why, I do not believe I have witnessed such liveliness of spirit in you since our first introduction. It is balm to the soul to know that the prodigious care your mother has been taking of you, along with the constant attendance of your physician, the most revered Mr Seymour, has had such beneficial and efficacious results! Why, to see you walking about on the grounds, I was astounded and most gratified, I assure you.”

“Walking about on the grounds? Anne!” Lady Catherine cried. Colonel Fitzwilliam furrowed his brow and darted his gaze towards Miss de Bourgh, whose frown answered that she had not the slightest idea of what the sanctimonious simperer was speaking.

“Oh, yes,” Mr Collins sputtered. “Just the other evening, while you had company, my lady. I was on the way to Rosings for a short visit, but when I saw the great black carriage in the drive, I turned back to the parsonage—only after much consternation, I assure you, for I knew not if the presence of these visitors meant good news or bad for Your Ladyship, and I debated whether I should make myself available for comfort or congratulations?—”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened at the mention of the carriage that was to have seen Mr Darcy's final moments. She quickly schooled her features and attempted a nonchalant interest that allowed her to take in the expressions of the others as Mr Collins droned on.

“But, upon the recollection that, in your boundless wisdom, my lady, you always know exactly what you need, and that you would doubtless send for me should my services be required, I did finally choose to walk back to the parsonage. It was then that I saw a lady draped in a shimmering silk shawl of deep blue, by which I knew it was Miss de Bourgh, walking down the lane that leads to the cottages. I wager there is not another lady in the county who has the fine taste, nor indeed the means, to choose such an intricately designed and skilfully constructed garment, and in such a precious fabric. No, though I could hardly believe my eyes, I said to myself, ‘That must be Miss de Bourgh!’ and I thanked Heaven that your health was improved such that it permitted you to walk out of an evening. Of course, I would have approached and offered my escort, but by then, the hour was becoming rather late, and I was sure Mrs Collins would be expecting me home to change for supper.”

Mr Collins was clearly pleased with himself. And completely oblivious to the expressions of confusion being cast about the room. She waited for a more fervent denial from Miss de Bourgh, as it was Elizabeth herself who had been making her way towards the cottages clad in another woman’s fine silk shawl on that fateful day. But it did not come.

“My dear, did I tell you that the stable hand’s son has recovered from his sickness?” Mrs Collins asked her husband by way of a change of subject. It must not have been the first time her husband’s chatter had garnered something akin to the tension and confusion that was now mounting around them, for Charlotte seemed perfectly composed as she diverted the simpleton’s attention. “I visited them with Maria and Elizabeth yesterday, and Molly was happy to report that little Samuel is in perfect health and is again able to join his father in the stables.”

During that visit, Elizabeth had wanted badly to enquire what had happened when Jem came home from helping the party search for Mr Darcy, but could not with her friends present. She and Molly had exchanged more than one pregnant glance, but before there was a chance to even surreptitiously approach the subject, Charlotte had recalled an appointment with another cottager, and they stood to take their leave.

Thankfully, Molly was able to contrive a reason to call Elizabeth back to her door, handing her the small pot which had held Samuel’s soup the week before. She whispered that the search had been unfruitful, though Jem had had quite the fright when the colonel had caught up with the stage and inspected its occupants. Apparently their endeavours to disguise the runaway had been successful, for, “Though Mr Darcy must have been inside, even his own cousin did not recognise him, thank the Lord!” And it was well after he had left for London that the coach carrying the two assassins had finally ambled out of Rosings’s drive.

Charlotte, evidently done listening to her husband’s interminable expressions of delight at little Samuel’s return to stoutness, turned to Lady Catherine. “The families expressed much thanks to you, Your Ladyship, for your kindness. Your generous yearly gift brings much joy and relief to the tenants and servants, and having received it through your steward only yesterday, all whom we met seemed to be in raptures over their good fortune and very happy to be employed at Rosings rather than another estate.”

Lady Catherine simply pursed her lips and nodded. This surprised Elizabeth, as Lady Catherine was usually wont to revel in praise for herself and add to it with more reports of her profound graciousness. Such reticence was strange, indeed.

Colonel Fitzwilliam seemed to notice Elizabeth’s interest. “Darcy insists on making gifts during our visits,” he whispered for her ears only. “Shaves it off our aunt’s lace and frippery budget and makes up the rest himself. My aunt thinks it a criminal waste but note she does not refuse the credit.”

Elizabeth met his eye, and he winked. Mr Darcy made yearly gifts to all of the servants and tenant farmers of Rosings? Why, that must be a hundred persons or more! And the gifts are significant enough to put them into raptures?

Elizabeth’s anxiety at Mr Collins’ speech melted into bewilderment at yet again finding out how little she knew about this man who had so recently avowed his love for her.And whom she had so summarily rejected.

How could I have been so wrong?