Chapter 12 #2
Lady Catherine entered carrying a folded paper in one hand and a pair of spectacles in the other. She stopped when she found Georgiana standing beside the writing table.
“You are sitting in darkness.”
“There is still light enough, ma’am.”
“There is not. I could not see the handle.” Lady Catherine crossed to the lamp and raised the wick.
The flame brightened beneath the parchment shade, restoring the furniture to the room.
“Mrs. Jenkinson claims the west passage lamp has gone out. I have told her it cannot have gone out unless someone neglected it.”
Georgiana glanced at the lamp. “Perhaps the oil was low.”
“They measure the oil every morning.”
Lady Catherine laid the folded paper on the table, though she continued to hold the spectacles. “You have received a letter.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“From your brother.”
Georgiana rested one hand against the closed drawer.
“He writes when he is away,” Lady Catherine continued. “Though I do not approve of his leaving you here while he indulges Mr. Bingley’s sudden affection for Hertfordshire.”
“He did not leave me here. He brought me to Rosings because you expected me.”
“I always expect you here.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And you are better placed here than in a rented house among strangers. Netherfield may be respectable, but it cannot offer you the advantages of Rosings.”
“No.”
Lady Catherine examined her. “What does he say of the place?”
“That the roads were tolerable.”
“I did not ask about the roads.”
“He finds the stables inferior to Pemberley’s.”
“That was certain before he left.”
“And Mr. Bingley loves the neighborhood.”
“Mr. Bingley loves anything that does not insult him.”
Georgiana lowered her eyes before Lady Catherine could see her amusement.
“Has he made the acquaintance of the principal families?”
“He has met several of them.”
“He must be careful. A man in his position draws attention wherever he goes, and country families value the smallest bit of it. An invitation to dinner becomes intimacy, a dance becomes preference, and a second dance becomes an understanding.”
Georgiana thought of Bingley and Miss Bennet. “Mr. Bingley has formed a preference.”
Lady Catherine lifted her spectacles but stopped halfway to her face. “For whom?”
“The eldest Miss Bennet.”
“Bennet.” Lady Catherine repeated the name without recognition. “What is her family?”
“They live at Longbourn.”
“That tells me where they live, not who they are.”
“Her father owns the estate.”
“How large?”
“I do not know.”
“Darcy did not provide the most useful information.”
“He was writing to me, ma’am.”
Lady Catherine put on her spectacles and looked toward the drawer. “Does your brother approve of Mr. Bingley’s choice?”
“He did not say.”
“He says, whether he intends to or not.”
Georgiana could not dispute this without lying. “He believes Miss Bennet returns Mr. Bingley’s regard.”
“That is not approval, it is observation.”
“No.”
Lady Catherine picked up the paper she had brought, unfolded it, and read the first line. “The steward has sent me an estimate for the lower wall. He proposes to replace twelve yards when six will suffice. Men double every quantity when they believe a woman will not examine it.”
Georgiana waited. Lady Catherine read the figure a second time, folded the paper, and set it down. “You said several families.”
“Yes.”
“Does Darcy mention anyone else?”
The question came without emphasis, but Georgiana felt the closed drawer beneath her hand.
“He describes the Bennet family.”
“That is to be expected if Bingley has chosen one of them.”
“There are five.”
“Five daughters?” Lady Catherine removed her spectacles. “And no son, I suppose.”
“I do not know.”
“There will be no son. Families with five daughters seldom possess the good sense to produce one when it is required.”
Georgiana said nothing.
“Are they accomplished?”
“He does not discuss their accomplishments.”
“Then they have none.”
“He mentions the youngest two as lively.”
“Undisciplined.”
The word was close enough to Darcy’s that Georgiana looked up.
Lady Catherine noticed. “I am correct.”
“My brother wrote something similar.”
“Since I have known him from infancy, it would be extraordinary if I could not anticipate his judgment.”
She turned toward the fire, saw that it had fallen to a coal, and pulled the bell. “This room is cold. You should have rung before it reached this state.”
“I did not notice.”
“That is why young people require older judgment.”
A servant entered. Lady Catherine ordered more coal and remained where she stood until he finished. When the door closed, she returned to the writing table.
“Was that all?”
Georgiana considered saying yes, but Lady Catherine was watching her. “He mentioned a dog, a working collie belonging to the second Miss Bennet.”
Lady Catherine stared at her. “Darcy wrote to you about a dog?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He saw her managing the Longbourn sheep.”
“The dog?”
“The young lady.”
Lady Catherine’s expression changed so little that another person might have missed it. Her fingers tightened around the spectacles. “Darcy observed a young woman managing sheep.”
“He encountered her before their introduction.”
“In a field?”
“Yes.”
“And learned she was the daughter of an estate owner.”
“Yes.”
Lady Catherine looked at the drawer. “What did he say of her?”
Georgiana chose her answer with care. “That he had mistaken her circumstances.”
“That is not what I asked.”
“He thought her intelligent.”
“Many judge a woman intelligent because she answers.”
“She answered him with wit.”
Lady Catherine’s mouth drew inward. “Your brother does not admire impertinence.”
“No.”
The agreement appeared to trouble her more than contradiction might have.
“And yet he wrote of it.”
“Yes.”
Lady Catherine walked to the window, which reflected the lamp and the pale outline of her face. “He seems to have found much to interest him.”
Georgiana returned to her chair but did not sit.
Lady Catherine faced her. “You will show me the letter.”
“He meant it for me.”
“I am aware of that.”
“He did not intend anyone else to read it.”
Lady Catherine regarded her in silence. Georgiana had refused her before, though not in words and never over Darcy.
Lady Catherine set her spectacles beside the steward’s estimate. “Your loyalty to your brother is commendable, but your judgment in this matter is questionable.”
Georgiana kept her eyes on Lady Catherine’s face.
“I shall write to him myself,” Lady Catherine said. “He is neglecting his correspondence with Rosings.”
“He has been at Netherfield less than a fortnight.”
“That is sufficient time to remember his obligations.”
She gathered the estimate and moved to the door. Before leaving, she turned back. “What was the young woman’s name?”
Georgiana hesitated.
Lady Catherine waited.
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
Lady Catherine repeated it, fixing it in memory. Then she left, and Georgiana heard her voice in the corridor, instructing a servant to have writing materials carried to the drawing room.