Some Particular Evil

Chapter 24

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

T he atmosphere in the church the day before had been tense as Elizabeth sat to the right of the lectern across from Lady Catherine and the rest of the Rosings party. Mr Collins’ sermon was well-written, too well-written to have originated in the mind of her cousin, if Elizabeth were to guess. Charlotte seemed to sense this as well, for she could not hide an occasional set to her jaw when he attempted to use or even pronounce unfamiliar or uncharacteristic words.

Mr Collins spoke eloquently on the importance of controlling one’s thoughts and heart-inclination. He quoted a verse in Ephesians and explored what it meant to renew the spirit of the mind, explaining that the man—or woman—of God must take pains to change his inner person, to put away wicked thoughts, intents, and motives, leave them behind, and allow the spirit of God to produce in him—or her , he said with emphasis—kindness, mercy, and self-control. It was while he was expatiating on the absolute necessity of putting away all bitterness, wrath, and malice, that Elizabeth noted the lips of Lady Catherine moving along with the vicar’s words. No, her cousin had certainly not written this sermon.

The fact that it was penned by Lady Catherine was of interest in itself. Elizabeth had not had a moment to give it the mental energy the thought deserved yesterday, but she was determined to do so this morning.

So, Elizabeth donned her pelisse and bonnet and made her way towards her favoured path to enjoy the spring day. She would take the long way round and follow the road to the village from the other side of Rosings, so as not to occasion any suspicion in her hosts. Her daily visits to the post office had not yet been fruitful, but she found the anticipation of receiving another letter from Mr Darcy too thrilling. She would not risk missing it.

She had just begun to put her mind to what Lady Catherine might have been getting at in penning such a sermon when, rounding the bend at Mr Darcy’s gnarled tree, the one under which he had often stood awaiting her early morning arrival, she was greeted with the sight of another man. Colonel Fitzwilliam stood leaning against the trunk of the budding oak, facing away from her, reading a letter. He did not seem to hear her footfalls as she neared, so she called out to make her presence known.

“And what do you do there so secretly, sir?” she asked in a cheery tone.

He whipped round, clearly surprised at her approach, then smiled. He still looked as if he were not sleeping well, but the crinkle at his eyes told her he was genuinely happy to see her. He held up the letter, saying, “It is no secret. It is a letter from my cousin, Georgiana.”

“And how does she do? I have yet to make her acquaintance, but I hear nothing but the highest praise of her.”

“And none of it is undeserved,” he replied, refolding the paper and slipping it into his breast pocket before gesturing to her to keep walking. She did so, and he fell into step alongside. “She is a lovely creature, sweet-natured and innocent. To tell the truth, I find her words quite refreshing compared to…”

Colonel Fitzwilliam trailed off, then flashed her a weak grin that came and went in the space of a blink.

“You take as keen an interest in her welfare as her brother does, I take it,” Elizabeth said.

“Darcy and I hold joint guardianship over her. Old Darcy stipulated the arrangement in his will.” His voice became strained as he pronounced the last words, and Elizabeth shared the pang he must have been suffering. He leant forwards and picked up a stray stick from the ground, plucked some debris off of it, then began tapping it against his leg as he walked.

Should I tell him? Is it safe for Darcy? How am I to know?

“She is in good hands at the moment, is she not? I thought I understood from Mr Darcy that she stays in London with your own mother and father.”

His countenance lightened at that thought and he confirmed, “Yes, she is being shuttled around town on my mother’s arm, taken from morning visits to afternoon teas to informal dinner parties without end. Mrs Younge can hardly keep up with the schedule, but she seems to enjoy the bustling and busyness more than the relative monotony of country life at Pemberley.”

“Mrs Younge?”

“Her companion. Darcy and I engaged her last summer to help Georgiana in her establishment at Ramsgate, and she has been very attentive. We receive regular correspondence from her, informing us of Georgiana’s comings and goings, any new acquaintances she is making, and how her studies are progressing. Of course, those are practically on hold with the Season in full swing. Georgiana may not be out yet, but my mother is not letting that stop her from showing her off at every possible opportunity.”

“And how does Mr Darcy feel about this? I cannot imagine he wishes his sister to be put on display so.”

“Darcy knows my mother. If he did not wish for Georgiana to be exhibited, he should have brought her to Rosings.” He chuckled, then looked over at Elizabeth.

Elizabeth smiled with him for a moment before his brows fell and his countenance again went solemn. She understood why. He was worried about his cousin; how could he not be? Mr Darcy had been gone over a week now—had he written to the colonel as he had to her? By the constant crease on the man’s brow, Elizabeth assumed not. Darcy was wanted on a charge of treason and had thief-takers out tracking him down. Perhaps Colonel Fitzwilliam thought he was sitting in Newgate Prison this very moment! How hurt he must be that Mr Darcy had not reached out to him, at least to let him know he was safe.

Elizabeth had to tell him.

“Colonel,” she began, halting her steps. “I know you have had much on your mind since Mr Darcy’s, um, leaving.”

“The truth is, Miss Bennet, I have been seriously considering my future.”

“Your future?” Elizabeth faltered; she did not expect this. All she could think of was his cousin’s present, and he was pondering his future? What could he mean by it?

“There are circumstances at play in life that we cannot control. Things I felt were written in stone now seem at risk of blowing away in the wind. I am inclined to take a wife,” he finally confessed, stilling the stick in the air beside him. “If for no other reason than to have some part of my life decided.”

Elizabeth was momentarily shocked, but then she supposed that if something terrible did happen to Mr Darcy, Colonel Fitzwilliam would have the full weight of Miss Darcy’s care upon his inexperienced shoulders. While the earl and his countess would certainly continue to aid in her upbringing, it was only sensible that the colonel would wish to have a helpmeet at hand as he took on the daunting task of raising a young heiress and managing her debut into society.

“It was hinted that your affections have been long engaged,” Elizabeth ventured.

“You heard that from Darcy, no doubt. You two seem to have been rather closer than I had assumed. I wonder he should leave when there are such friends to be had.” He gave a weak laugh, which died directly.

Elizabeth was momentarily taken aback by the colonel’s last words. Clearly, he did not want her to know he knew that Mr Darcy had fled Rosings.

“Friends we were not,” Elizabeth admitted. “I was under the impression that he only ever looked at me to find fault, and so I repaid him in kind. It is only since his departure that I have learnt of his intrinsic goodness and generosity.” Her eyes began to mist over at the thought, and she looked away from him, blinking to stop the tears while trying to find her voice. She must have been silent too long for the colonel’s comfort, for he soon chimed in.

“It is true that I was…attached to my cousin Anne at one point in time. We were the closest of friends as children, and I once thought that we might one day come to an understanding. Indeed, I spent the better part of my youth catering to her every whim, reading the same book to her over and over just to see her delight. But it has been many years since I have considered Miss de Bourgh anything beyond a familial relation.” The tapping began again as he tried for a light tone. “Lady Catherine has made it clear that she prefers Darcy for a son-in-law, and you know she is not easily gainsaid.”

“No, indeed,” was all Elizabeth could say.

He looked off into the distance. “Moreover…Anne has changed. She is not the carefree girl she once was. I hardly know what to make of it. We used to read together, to laugh and dance. Then, she became ill and stayed so for so long, I hardly knew her. And now…now she has become obstinate, argumentative, envious.”

“Envious?” Elizabeth enquired.

“That is why I had to read my letter outside. The moment I receive any correspondence at all, she is looking over my shoulder asking whom it is from. And if it is a lady’s handwriting, she seethes and snarls. In short, no, I have no desire to attach myself to my cousin.”

“I imagine not.”

“But it does not follow that I may marry where I wish. It is just my luck that I should love a bright, particular star,” he said, staring down at the bough he was now running through his fingers.

Elizabeth could not look at him. One part of her wondered where she had heard those words before, and another wondered whether he spoke of her.

Seeming to sense that Elizabeth did not desire to learn more, the colonel offered to escort her back to the parsonage on his way back to Rosings, but Elizabeth politely declined. She was for the post office, though she would not say so much to him.

Elizabeth walked on, dazed by the colonel’s disclosure and puzzling at his words. She had learnt much about Miss de Bourgh and the state of his heart where that lady was concerned. But she also learnt that he could lie to her with very little hesitancy.

Until I am sure he can be trusted, she decided, I must not tell him what I know of Mr Darcy’s whereabouts.

Again, she wondered what he could mean by confessing so much to her—and just how much she should reveal to Mr Darcy.