Chapter 33
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
A SCRAP OF DIGNITY
C olonel Fitzwilliam offered me his arm, and we walked away from Mr Darcy. I was temporarily mute with shame to have been caught in such a compromising circumstance by a man I barely knew, not that I would have been unembarrassed to have been seen by someone with whom I was well acquainted!
Sensing I was unequal to initiating a benign conversation, my escort cleared his throat and began to speak of the weather.
“It is rare the clouds break in that way,” he said, glancing upward through the trees. “Perhaps we are in for a?—”
“Your cousin and I have an understanding!” I broke in a little desperately. And then realising just how scandalous that might sound, I said, “An honourable understanding!”
“Oh? I am glad to hear it. Might I ask?—”
“You may certainly ask Mr Darcy. I do not know to the extent he wishes to confide the details, for our circumstances are such that—well, I should say no more. Only I could not take another step thinking you believed the worst of me.”
He did not instantly answer, for he did not seem to be a man prone to ill-considered speech. Then, glancing at me once with a look of warm reassurance and perhaps even a hint of amusement, he said, “I will certainly ask Darcy what sort of mischief he has lured you into. I am, in fact, glad of an excuse to interrogate him.”
I felt myself gradually return to a more complacent state for having salvaged a scrap, at least, of my dignity, and when we turned off the pathway lined with lime trees and made towards the estate’s main gate, I said, “Now, what were you telling me about that peculiar pattern of clouds?”
Upon entering the parsonage, I dashed up the stairs to my room to rectify my windblown state. As I worked my brush, I stared at the image in the mirror and reminded the poor dear staring back at me with the dazed expression of someone overwhelmed already—though it was not yet noon—that this tumultuous escapade would soon be nothing more than an enchanting memory. I longed to sit quietly, to rest my overworked heart, to recall the thrilling intimacy of a gallop to the hilltops surrounding Rosings Park, and to conjure up the sensation of the pleasurable security of resting my back against Mr Darcy’s chest.
But I had a duty to Charlotte, so I deferred such blissful recollections for the hour before sleep and went in search of my friend. She was not well, having slept poorly and suffered a cramp in her legs and was propped up against her pillows in bed.
“What may I do for you, dearest?” I asked helplessly.
“Oh Lizzy, if I knew, I would tell you.”
“If only my mother were here,” I said absently .
“Or mine.”
I sat forwards. “Would you like her to come, Charlotte?”
“I admit, I do,” she said meekly.
“But why not? Surely she planned to come. Perhaps not until your time comes nearer, but this is your first confinement. Should I not write to her?”
“I do not know why I have not thought of doing so myself. My wits have gone. Might you bring me my writing things?”
I did so with alacrity, moving a small table near enough to the bed that my friend had only to swing her legs over the edge in order to dash off her note to Lady Lucas. When she finished, I said, “Charlotte, I do not think it advisable you continue as you have. You must rest until Lady Lucas comes.”
“But Lady Catherine expects me.”
“To make yourself ill for her convenience is one thing, but to distress your infant is something else entirely. I forbid you to go, and after I dispatch this letter, I intend to find Mr Collins and tell him he must make your excuses.”
I helped Charlotte to lie back against her pillows, and as I pulled up the coverlet, she said, “I forget how overbearing you are. Do you remember when we played with our dolls?”
“I was a tyrannical little beast, was I not? I suppose you never once got to decide what little scene we would enact.”
She smiled warmly and grasped my hand. “Thank you. I know I am being nonsensical. The midwife says I am progressing naturally and that I have no cause for concern.”
“I am sure she is right, Charlotte. Only consider that it might be helpful to have a day now and again in which you are not called upon to walk to Rosings and sit in those medieval chairs for three hours or more. ”
“What if Mr Darcy calls?”
“I will send him away, dearest. Now close your eyes.”
Mr Collins looked horrified upon hearing my decree that Charlotte would not be trooped up to the great house to sit with Lady Catherine over tea. He had been well occupied with the renovations of the church since my arrival, quite harassed by his anxiety that the work be accomplished precisely as commanded by Lady Catherine—a woman who knew nothing at all about paint, putty, mortar, or fretwork. To face her with the disappointing news that his wife was not as staunch as his patroness expected her to be nearly undid him.
“There is nothing for it, Cousin,” I said calmly. “She requires rest. Moreover, she has sent a letter to her mother to come sooner than later to provide what ease she can.”
“Her mother!”
“Who else should come to your wife’s aid? Consider that Lady Lucas has not yet met Lady Catherine, and the great lady may be well pleased with a new face.”
This notion was the straw Mr Collins needed to grasp, and wiping his brow with his handkerchief, he reconciled himself to the arrival of his mother-in-law. Meanwhile, I also reconciled myself to this, since it meant I must leave the parsonage several days earlier than I had planned in order to make room for Lady Lucas.