Chapter 6
As Lady Catherine’s guests were not expected until the second half of March, Elizabeth spent nearly two long weeks in the company of the Collinses, Maria, and Sir William; however, the latter soon announced his intention to depart for home under the pretext of urgent business.
Yet that time was not entirely wasted. Ultimately, her relationship with Charlotte evolved into a new form of friendship, less profound than in the past yet still close enough to give them both enjoyment in their common interests.
Elizabeth gladly accompanied her to meetings with the ladies of Hunsford parish, and upon discovering that some of those ladies had formed a reading circle, she joined them with great pleasure, resolving to attempt something similar in Meryton.
Then she met Lady Catherine, and that encounter alone filled several letters to Mrs Gardiner; so much was there to recount.
Lady Catherine was Mr Darcy’s older female counterpart.
Elizabeth concealed her smile behind a deep curtsey, for in that first moment, she had the distinct impression of being scrutinised as she had been by Mr Darcy at the Meryton assembly—that same regal disdain, coupled with the faintest trace of ennui at having to spend the evening in obviously inferior company.
Yet Mr Darcy was a young man who likely frequented London salons, whereas Lady Catherine, surrounded by an army of servants, was alone in an enormous house, her only diversions being dinners with the neighbouring gentry and the Collins family.
The house was more impressive from the outside, for within, the furnishings had undoubtedly been arranged by the same persons who had decorated the Parsonage at least a hundred years before. Only the dining table was remarkable, adorned with china and glassware of ageless beauty.
“Is Lady Catherine attempting to impress us?” Elizabeth whispered to Charlotte, seizing the moment while Mr Collins escorted their hostess to the table, engaged in conversation with Sir William.
“Oh no!” Charlotte exclaimed, blushing, ever fearful that Elizabeth might commit some blunder regarding Lady Catherine and that she would be implicated. “The dinners are always like this, regardless of how many guests are present. Lady Catherine enjoys elegance, and the food is always excellent.”
“Splendid,” replied Elizabeth, genuinely pleased.
Although their first evening at the Parsonage had indeed included an excellent meal, the subsequent breakfasts and dinners had become increasingly simple, even frugal.
Elizabeth suspected this to be one reason Sir William was so eager to return home, where Lady Lucas and the neighbouring ladies ensured that their tables were well-laden regardless of the day or the company.
Yet that first dinner at Rosings was memorable for a reason beyond the fare.
After a prolonged interrogation of her guests regarding the minutest details of their lives, Lady Catherine finally concluded, in her usual haughty manner, that she was pleased to offer them an example of how life ought to be lived in high society.
Only Sir William and Elizabeth raised their heads, startled by the arrogance and superciliousness in her tone.
Maria was too young and na?ve to grasp what had transpired and find her ladyship’s words offensive.
But Elizabeth wondered whether Charlotte, who kept her gaze fixed on her plate, had understood the disdain that had also been cast upon her father. It was impossible to tell.
Sir William glanced around the table but met only Elizabeth’s eyes, which mirrored his own restrained indignation. And to Elizabeth’s delight, Sir William did not accept her ladyship’s way of displaying a superiority she did not possess in their relationship.
“At Lucas Lodge, Lady Catherine, we may live on a smaller estate, but only because I chose to after receiving the same title as your late husband, Sir Lewis de Bourgh, and not for lack of financial means. I am merely lazier,” he continued with a smile, “and I prefer not to concern myself with tenants, harvests, and all the other matters of country life. My income is derived by simpler, less troublesome means.”
For a few moments, silence reigned. No one had dared to put his patroness in her place so directly, and Mr Collins was mortified. Yet, between Lady Catherine and his father-in-law, he would immediately side with her and, thus, addressed only Sir William with a determined voice.
“Nevertheless, the fortunes on each side cannot be compared.”
“Perhaps not fortunes, but positions certainly can,” Sir William replied, and Elizabeth smiled at him in gratitude.
After the following evening’s dinner at the Parsonage, which seemed even more meagre than before, Sir William announced his departure, and neither his daughter nor her husband insisted that he remain, while it became evident that Maria had no intention of accompanying her father.
Elizabeth spent an entire night deliberating whether to leave with him. Yet something held her back.
The next day, at breakfast, she announced that she would stay longer after all, as Jane also wished to remain in London.
“Longbourn feels sorrowful without Jane,” remarked Charlotte, visibly pleased by her friend’s decision to stay.
“These days, Longbourn is even more sorrowful with Jane,” Elizabeth replied, showing an unusual irritation at her sister’s suffering, which had not ceased after over three months.
“I am sure you will find her better when you return. Jane is such a kind and radiant person, always trying to offer support. It is only a matter of time before she will be her old self again,” Charlotte replied, and Elizabeth had a slight feeling that her friend regretted their life in Hertfordshire and their company after all.
“I am glad you are staying,” said Sir William, then added, quite unexpectedly, “This house could do with a little more spirit from Meryton and a little less from Rosings.”
Elizabeth smiled while Charlotte blushed, casting an urgent glance, followed by one of relief, towards her husband, who seemed not to have heard the remark, being too preoccupied with overseeing his father-in-law’s luggage.
In any case, Sir William’s words went unanswered, and he took his leave of Mr and Mrs Collins with a broad smile. He returned home quite certain that his daughter had made an excellent marriage, for, in the end, minor inconveniences existed in all houses, and they never truly mattered.
“Give my regards to Mr Darcy,” he said from the carriage window, talking to Elizabeth as his daughter or son-in-law would never do such a thing.
Elizabeth smiled and nodded, even though she had other intentions regarding that gentleman.
She recalled Artemis, the Greek goddess she secretly admired.
In the myth of Actaeon, when the young hunter glimpses the goddess bathing in her naked splendour, she, enraged, transforms him into a deer, and he is torn apart by his hounds, who fail to recognise their master.
Mr Darcy would not suffer such a fate. But for daring to find her unremarkable, he would pay; for this time, she would come prepared to disregard him and show how unremarkable she found him, in her turn.