Chapter 2
HOUSEHOLD HARMONY
Elizabeth nearly choked on her breakfast tea. She could scarcely believe what she’d heard. “Mr. Darcy is engaged!” she exclaimed. “To his cousin?”
Mr. and Mrs. Collins nodded in unison. “You may think it odd that the gentleman did not attend Miss de Bourgh in that manner young lovers are wont to do, but I assure you of their attachment,” said the former.
Elizabeth remained silent, despite the fluttering of her busily engaged mind.
Did not attend Miss de Bourgh, indeed! He could not have paid less attention to the young woman had he tried.
He paid far more attention to me, both before and after his disparaging remarks to his cousin that I am not handsome enough to tempt him.
Her pride still extremely mortified by his harsh affront, Elizabeth could not help but wonder what exactly it was about his cousin that had succeeded in tempting the gentleman.
Miss de Bourgh was pale and sickly. Her features, though not plain, were rather insignificant, and she spoke very little.
When she did deign to speak, she always did so in a barely audible voice, one that compelled anyone who would listen to lean ever so close to hear what she had to say.
At length, Elizabeth began to appreciate the irony that such a man as the proud Mr. Darcy should be engaged to that frail creature, and she thereby decided that he deserved his fate.
Mr. Collins heralded the union between the two cousins as though it were preordained by God, and he did so in a manner that marked him for Elizabeth’s derision.
He was far from being a sensible man, but rather someone whom fate had smiled upon in rendering him the recipient of the living in Hunsford, a good home, and a sufficient income.
Sealing his good fortune was the fact that he was the heir apparent to the Longbourn estate—the only home Elizabeth had ever known.
He rambled on and on, extolling all of Miss Anne de Bourgh’s estimable qualities.
His proclamation that Miss de Bourgh would have a very large fortune and his belief that she and her cousin would unite the two great estates of Rosings Park and Pemberley was all that Elizabeth needed to hear to understand the nature of Mr. Darcy’s motives.
Men of his ilk were nothing if not always seeking ways to expand their fortunes.
Soon enough, Elizabeth began to pay her cousin no mind. She sat at the breakfast table thinking of all that had taken place the evening before. Heavy on her mind was the burden of deciding whether to accept Lady Catherine’s open invitation to practice on the pianoforte.
You would be in nobody’s way in that part of the house, the proud aristocrat had insisted, referring to the east library.
The instrument was deemed in need of tuning, but any practice would be better than none, her ladyship went on to say after Elizabeth concluded a command exhibition the evening before—one the grand lady had found wanting both in execution and taste, especially in comparison to her daughter’s despite Anne’s never having actually learned how to play the pianoforte or any other instrument for that matter owing to her health.
Charlotte said, “Have you any plans for today, my dear Eliza? If not, I should be delighted to have you accompany me to the village while I carry out my morning errands.”
The aggrieved vicar set his coffee cup down with an abrupt thump. “Mrs. Collins,” he interrupted, “have you failed to recall that Cousin Elizabeth is expected at Rosings this morning?”
“In point of fact, sir, I am not quite certain I wish to accept your noble patroness’s invitation,” Elizabeth interjected.
Completely taken aback, Mr. Collins declared, “It is a great honor that her ladyship has extended to you, and one you would be wise to heed. Lady Catherine likes you, and she has afforded such an unparalleled kindness to you and likewise to this very house.” His voice taking on a measure of authority laced with condescension, Collins continued, “I know you like to fancy yourself immune to the advantages of such a compliment, but in this case I shall not abide your impertinence.”
Elizabeth was somewhat taken aback by his severe tone.
It seemed the gentleman had not quite accustomed himself to being spurned when he offered his hand in marriage to her.
Surely by now he could have no cause to regret his eventual choice in a bride.
Charlotte was an excellent wife—perfectly unassuming and, as best Elizabeth could surmise, ever cognizant of the advantages of keeping herself in Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s good graces.
Although Elizabeth did not wish to gratify her cousin or Lady Catherine’s demand in this, faced with the prospect of listening to that ridiculous man go on and on preaching on the subject it was far easier simply to go along with the scheme.
If nothing else, she would do so for her friend Charlotte.
As the Collinses’ houseguest, she was obliged to accept Lady Catherine’s invitation if for no other reason than the preservation of household harmony.
With that purpose in mind, she set out for her walk across the park.
A few minutes with the early morning sun beaming down on her face was all it took to sweep away the discomfort she had endured in Mr. Collins’s company.
Having surmised her ladyship lived to be of service to others, Elizabeth could not repress the wry smile that crept across her face.
She felt a modicum of gratitude that Lady Catherine had offered her such a convenient means of escape from her toady cousin—one that would keep her beyond the reach of his absurdity for hours if she could arrange it.
Having recalled from the evening before that her ladyship had made plans to call on several friends and acquaintances in a neighboring village, Elizabeth’s spirits rose a little higher.
Perhaps I shall escape the benevolent aristocrat as well if I am quick about it.
After an energetic early morning horseback ride with his cousin, Darcy walked into his apartment with a little less spring in his step than when he had left.
That morning’s excursion had been particularly strenuous.
The hot bath that awaited his return was precisely what was called for to soothe his aching muscles, as well as quiet his busy mind of the troubling thoughts that simply would not go away; thoughts of the beguiling country miss who had robbed him of his equanimity for the past twelve hours or so.
Listening to his valet uncharacteristically ramble on also turned out to be a welcome distraction. When the bath waters began to cool, Darcy climbed out of the tub, dried himself off, put on his rich velvet robe, and drifted over to the window to admire the view.
What he saw proved worthy of his admiration. There she was walking up the path to the manor house—Miss Elizabeth Bennet. His body’s telling response in seeing her further bolstered a nagging suspicion that if he were not careful, he would be in grave danger from that young woman.
So much for my hastily spoken words that Miss Elizabeth Bennet is not handsome enough to tempt me. He had cited her impertinence as further proof of this, but he had to admit to finding that particular flaw in her character to be rather intriguing.
With what brashness did she respond to his aunt’s barrage of questions, suggestions, and innuendos the evening before, and in such a manner that even Lady Catherine herself could not take complete umbrage. In truth, this Elizabeth Bennet was unlike any other young woman of his acquaintance.
I recall her saying that she is not yet one and twenty, Darcy silently pondered as he remained frozen in place, unable to tear his eyes away from Elizabeth as she neared the house.
What is more, she is the second eldest of five daughters—all of them single.
He remembered Miss Bennet’s telling reaction to Lady Catherine’s frank assessment of the Bennet daughters’ dismal marital prospects.
However harshly expressed, the dire prognosis was unfortunately very true.
Darcy did not envy that family’s plight one bit.
Of course, he had his own future marital situation with which to contend.
At eight and twenty, he had been most fastidious in regulating himself around members of the opposite sex.
One never knew if the hordes of young women who showered him with deference and officious attention with such ardent alacrity did so out of sincerity or if their motives were merely mercenary.
He laughed a little. “One thing is certain; I shall garner no such civility from Miss Bennet.”
“I beg your pardon, Mr. Darcy.”
Darcy spun around and observed his valet brushing one of his favorite jackets. Waving off the question, he moved away from the window. “Let us make haste, Waters. I suspect this is going to be a long day.”
A half hour or so later, Darcy found himself standing just outside the door of the east library, undecided whether to enter the room.
Old habits it seemed. Every year, Darcy visited his aunt and cousin at Rosings during the spring—more so out of family loyalty than any particular inclination to be there.
Lady Catherine expected the courtesy, and it was the least he could do for his late mother’s only sister and her closest friend were he to believe his aunt’s accounts.
His aunt had misspoken when she offered Miss Bennet the use of that particular room, citing that she would be in nobody’s way.
For years, he had considered the east library his private sanctuary when he wanted time away from Lady Catherine and his cousins, Anne and Colonel Fitzwilliam.
In fairness to his aunt, however, she could have no way of knowing he habitually stole away to that part of the house for long stretches of time, for he had practically sworn the servants to secrecy.
Taking note of the sounds emanating from the poorly tuned pianoforte and echoing throughout the hall, Darcy released an exasperated breath.
If Lady Catherine is going to insist upon having Miss Bennet practice, the least she might do is have the instrument tuned.
He made a mental note to instruct the butler to take care of that task as soon as could be.
Darcy instantly thought to question himself on what he was about.
He shrugged. It is the proper thing to do.
As for the other question of why he was lingering outside the door of his favorite part of Rosings—his longtime source of solace during those times when he needed it most—his answer was rather more difficult to ascertain.
Dare I allow the presence of the beguiling young woman from Hertfordshire to rob me of this too?