Day 6
Such an odd collection of persons. Elizabeth studied the assembled group at Rosings the following night with amusement. She took pleasure in follies, and this grouping from the parsonage and Rosings Park gave her much fodder for diversion.
Her amusement turned to dismay at seeing Mr. Gafton leering at her and then Georgiana, and she determined to not leave her present company.
Truth be told, the presence of Mr. Bingley also gave her pause.
There was no logical explanation for his inclusion in this party, considering his history with Mr. Wickham.
Mr. Bingley joined Mr. Fitzroy standing by the window and began a quiet conversation.
“How uncomfortable Mr. Bingley looks,” Jane said, breaking into Elizabeth’s thoughts.
Drawing her head closer to her sister’s, Elizabeth whispered, “I agree. We can only pray he can one day find a woman with your goodness to help him through situations such as these.”
“You should try for him, Lizzy. He is such a good gentleman-like man. I hate to see him alone.”
“Oh no, dearest. He’s not the one for me.”
As if to remind them of the man Jane had married, his sycophantic voice could be heard across the room, scraping at the hem of Miss de Bourgh. If he were only a rational creature… If only our father had put money aside and not relied so much upon having a son… Maybe then, my dear sister could have…
Yet how my dear Jane endures, I know not. I could not imagine looking upon him as my husband. Still, Elizabeth was duty bound to remind Jane of their covenants, especially with the handsome and charming Mr. Bingley in the room. “That you honor your husband is a testament to your goodness.”
Jane was quiet and then: “Yes.”
Dining with Mr. Collins and his barnyard table manners was enough to put anyone off their appetite—inconceivable to imagine any romantic encounters. What horrors Jane must endure!
Elizabeth recalled herself when the butler announced dinner. As if in slow motion, Mr. Wickham walked toward her and held out his arm. “Georgiana, I will take Miss Bennet in. Bingley shall take you.”
Georgiana’s lips formed a tight line. Composing himself, he turned a pleasant smile to Georgiana. “May I?” he asked, extending his hand to her, but stealing a glance at Jane.
Her hesitation was slight. “Yes, I thank you.” Georgiana placed her hand on Mr. Bingley’s arm.
They began to depart the room when a rusty voice from the chaise snarled.
“You ignore me in my own home, Wickham? I do not know what you are about, but it is obvious that once again, money and marriage do not make a gentleman. You will always be the son of a steward, no matter what airs you give yourself. You will wait until the mistress of the house precedes you!” Turning to the men, she held up her hand.
“Mr. Collins, you and Mrs. Wickham. Mr. Gafton, you and Miss Bennet. Mr. Bingley, you and Mrs. Collins, and Wickham, you will escort Anne.”
She scanned the room, her eyes resting on Mr. Fitzroy before she spoke again. “Darcy, you will lend me your arm.”
Mr. Fitzroy and Georgiana startled at the name.
“Mama, once again, this is not Uncle Darcy. He is Mr. Fitzroy,” Miss de Bourgh said with an edge to her voice.
Lady Catherine sniffed and held out her hand, while Mr. Fitzroy extended his arm. “Lady Catherine. May I escort you into dinner?”
She reached up and patted his cheek. “Oh, George, my dear brother. I knew you would come to save me.”
Darcy nearly wavered hearing his aunt mistake him for his father but recovered quickly when she demanded he escort her into dinner.
He felt the tug on his arm and looked down at his aunt. “Lady Catherine?”
“I expect I shocked that upstart. He has no place at the head of my table!” Her vehemence was strong, and Darcy remained silent. “Do not worry, Darcy. Your secret is safe with me.”
He went rigid. “Lady Catherine, I must ask why you insist on calling me Darcy? My name is William Fitzroy.”
“If that is what you wish,” she said as he pulled the chair out for her. “You will sit to my right, Mr. Fitzroy.” She raised her voice and said, “Mr. Bingley, you will sit to my left. I am not fond of a tradesman at my table but, in this instance, I need men I can trust on both sides of me.”
She persisted in arranging the seats until they were to her satisfaction, and then she sipped her wine.
“Mr. Collins. I believe you must remind Mr. Wickham of the ills of sin. He was unable to attend your services this past Sunday and missed your thoughtful sermon.”
Wickham’s nostrils flared, and his jaw tensed. “Lady Catherine, I believe you forget yourself.”
“No, Wickham. I believe I am remembering myself.” Turning to Darcy, she said, “Darcy, you and Bingley must go for a ride with me tomorrow in the barouche box. I insist. Tell my sister, Lady Anne, we have business to attend, and her company is not needed.”
Lady Catherine stood then and threw her napkin on the table while everyone stared at her, eyes wide, before the men stood. “I am tired and have decided I will take a tray in my room. Darcy, I will expect you and Bingley at ten tomorrow morning. Do not be late.”
“Yes, Your Ladyship,” Darcy said as the rest of the room watched her go in silence. Does she still believe I am my father?
After she had exited, a quiet buzz began down at the other end of the table. Darcy looked from Wickham to Anne. One’s eyes were filled with steel while the others were filled with triumph.
An imperious smirk played across Wickham’s lips before he said, “Mr. Fitzroy, Bingley. I hope you are not concerned with keeping that appointment at Rosings tomorrow. By morning, Lady Catherine will have forgotten her antics and will not be expecting you.”
Darcy watched Anne’s features and replied accordingly, “I thank you for the advice, Mr. Wickham, but I can only speak for myself. I will arrive by ten. If Lady Catherine changes her mind, I will return to the parsonage.”
“As will I,” Bingley said tightly.
“Bingley, there is no reason for you to come. She will be horrified to think she requested your company.”
Bingley reached for his glass and took a sip of wine. His emotions were barely beneath the surface. “I thank you for your concern, Wickham. But I have learned to abide my own counsel.”
There was a slight gasp from Mrs. Collins, and an unspoken tension grew. Darcy saw Elizabeth reach for Georgiana’s hand. Only Mr. Collins seemed oblivious of the scene playing out in the dining room as he finished the last of his white soup.