Chapter 13
THAT KIND OF ELEGANCE
Mere days after the visit from Mr. Darcy, Lady Vanessa received another member of the illustrious Fitzwilliam family—Lady Catherine de Bourgh.
It did not take long before the ladies came to learn how much they had in common, mostly centred on their ideas of forming the perfect alliance for their nephews and the disheartening toll that circumstances had rendered on their hopes and dreams.
Lady Vanessa listened patiently to Lady Catherine before sharing her own thoughts on the matter.
“I know exactly how you feel, having suffered a similar situation myself. I know what it is like to have your dreams for an alliance between two young people who seemed destined for one another shattered because one of the two principals is in love with someone else.” Lady Vanessa busied herself by refilling her tea.
“When did love become a consideration in marriage anyway?”
“It pleases me to hear you speak this way. With the two of us working together towards the greater good of our families, we will be able to thwart my nephew’s intentions towards your niece, thus satisfying both our hopes.”
“No, Lady Catherine, for that is where you are mistaken. We shall not be working towards a common cause. Unlike you, I know when to lay down the battle-axe.”
Hours later, Lady Catherine stewed in her carriage.
As irate as she was, she had never been so happy to take her leave of anyone as she was to quit Lady Barrett’s company.
The insolence of that woman—who does she suppose she is in inviting me to leave her home?
She knows nothing about me to suppose that I would give up my cause so easily as this.
I am not in the habit of brokering disappointment. I never surrender!
Moments later, the carriage ride went from smooth and steady to feeling as though one of the wheels was square.
As soon as the carriage drew to a stop, her ladyship banged her cane against the ceiling.
Without waiting for assistance, she threw open the door.
If Lady Catherine had been paying attention, she would have realised it was not the time to quit the carriage to direct the driver to be quick about resuming the journey.
She had no sooner stepped to the ground when the skies above opened up.
Poor Lady Catherine was drenched from head to toes in the blink of an eye.
She raised a bony fist to the heavens. “This is not to be borne!”
Elizabeth’s aunt Mrs. Philips could hardly wait to share an article of news that had been in circulation in Meryton with her sister, Mrs. Bennet.
The housekeeper at Netherfield had received orders to prepare for the arrival of her master who was coming down in a day or two.
Mrs. Bennet was quite in the fidgets. Here was a second chance for the determined matriarch to settle one of her daughters on him.
Oh, but Mary would never do. As for Elizabeth, her chances of landing him were no better than when he first arrived in Hertfordshire last year.
She had failed miserably. How unfortunate that Lydia was away in Brighton with the Forsters.
The task of marrying Mr. Bingley now fell firmly on Kitty’s shoulders.
Though Kitty was not as pretty as Lydia and nowhere near as lively, Mrs. Bennet still supposed that Kitty would admirably do the job of turning Mr. Bingley’s head.
What other choice was there? Mrs. Bennet was not apt to let a second chance of securing Mr. Bingley as a son-in-law pass her by.
Pangs of distress over her mother’s desperation to see all her daughters married pummelled Elizabeth’s chest. That same desperation had resulted in Mrs. Bennet sending Jane to a neighbouring estate on horseback on a day that promised a violent storm.
I think I shall never forget that day.
“Mama, I assure you that Mr. Bingley’s returning to Hertfordshire has nothing to do with his desire to find a wife. It is more likely he is returning to tend to his estate.”
Mrs. Bennet twisted around in her seat to command a full view of her daughter. “How do you know the purpose of his visit, Miss Lizzy?”
“You recall my mentioning his being in Bosley? He said nothing of returning to Netherfield Park for the summer. I suppose some problem has arisen that requires his attention.”
“His not mentioning his plan to you tells me that I am correct in supposing that he has no interest in you, and that your sister Kitty stands the better chance of turning his head than you!”
Elizabeth was satisfied to escape her mother’s scheme.
What a shame a man cannot visit his own home without creating such excitement and speculation.
With all this talk of Mr. Bingley returning to Hertfordshire, Elizabeth’s thoughts naturally tended to his friend Mr. Darcy.
She knew there was little chance of him joining the Netherfield party.
As much as Elizabeth did not want to admit it, following the news of the horse races had become her secret passion.
If I know anything at all about Mr. Darcy, he is preparing for the Ascot races.
Elizabeth wondered how it would be seeing Mr. Bingley again after their time together in Bosley.
She prayed his sister did not plan to join him, for she could well imagine herself being the object of quite a bit of derision owing to her disappointed hopes.
Though Elizabeth had no proof, she well imagined that Caroline Bingley had played a part in dampening Mr. Darcy’s admiration for her.
How she must be congratulating herself on her triumph.
Elizabeth’s greatest solace imaginable in once again being in proximity to the Bingleys was her knowledge that Caroline’s hopes for an alliance with Mr. Darcy would never be realised.
Elizabeth had by now convinced herself that Mr. Darcy intended to honour his family’s wishes and marry his cousin Miss Anne de Bourgh.
Elizabeth recalled the look on his face as he stood outside his carriage at Barrington Hall—the last time she ever saw him when she had refused to receive him.
She had removed herself from his vantage point in the window just in time to prevent his seeing her.
He just stood there for a long while as if silently commanding that she come out and see him before finally boarding his carriage and taking his leave.
She did not know at the time that he was engaged, even if only tacitly, to his cousin in Kent.
She was simply angry and disappointed, in herself more than anything else, for allowing herself to become attached to him.
Silent recriminations haunted her. If she had seen him, would it have made a difference?
Would he have come back as he had said he would?
Would he have gone against his family’s wishes and offered for her? What is the point in conjecture?
Two days later, Kitty, who had been sitting in the window seat staring out, was suddenly aroused. “A gentleman is coming!”
“Is it Mr. Bingley? Mama will be disappointed to have missed him.”
“It is not Mr. Bingley. I have never laid eyes on him before. He is a tall, proud looking man.”
Eager to satisfy her own curiosity, Elizabeth hurried to the window and peered outside. Her heart slammed against her chest, and she quickly reclaimed her seat. She placed her hand over her bosom to steady her breathing. It is Mr. Darcy!
Darcy paced the floor in the hallway outside the library waiting to be received by the gentleman of the manor house.
Whatever were his thoughts on the recognition of the inferiority of Elizabeth’s circumstances in comparison to his own, Darcy would not be deterred.
The weeks he had spent with her in Bosley were the most satisfying in all his life.
No woman had ever bewitched him so. The time away from her had been a torment. He would see her again.
Pray she does not cling to her disappointment over what she must have perceived as my ill treatment of her.
Finally, the housekeeper emerged from the room and stepped aside to allow him to pass. “The master will see you now, sir.”
The silver-haired patriarch stood when Darcy entered the room. Darcy bowed slightly. “Good morning, sir. Thank you for agreeing to see me.”
The older gentleman arched his bushy brow. “It is a fine morning indeed. To whom do I have the pleasure of welcoming to my home?”
“I am Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley and Derbyshire.”
“Derbyshire—that is quite a distance from Hertfordshire, but I do not need to tell you that.” He signalled Darcy to take a seat. “How might I serve you?”
“I have come from Bosley. I have a letter from Lady Barrett.” Darcy handed the letter to Mr. Bennet.
Mr. Bennet accepted the missive, opened the elegant seal, and perused its contents.
He shifted his gaze from the letter to Mr. Darcy with regularity.
Of course, Darcy had no idea what Lady Barrett had written, but he hoped he had been able to persuade her ladyship that his intentions towards Elizabeth were honourable.
She had given him no assurances of his success or lack thereof and had only asked that he deliver the letter to Mr. Bennet upon his arrival in Hertfordshire.
Darcy had placed a great deal of trust in Lady Barrett’s hands—an unprecedented act for a man who always relied upon his own counsel.
Few words had been spoken between Darcy and Mr. Bennet.
When Mr. Darcy was gone, Mr. Bennet sought out his wife to apprise her of the events of the morning.
Upon being informed the lady of the manor had ventured to town while he was receiving his guest, Mr. Bennet was obliged to await her return.
All the while, he amused himself with the notion of heightening his wife’s aggravation by keeping her in suspense as long as possible.