Chapter 4 #2
“Papa, I shall miss your teasing,” she replied, gently kissing his cheek and embracing him tenderly. “I promise to write every day and inform you of all the particulars I discover about Lady Catherine de Bourgh.”
“You should do just that. Oh, what joy! Now go and prepare for your journey if you are still certain you want to leave your poor papa.”
“I am afraid I do, Papa. But I trust my time in Kent will be short and rather boring, so I shall return before you even notice my absence.”
∞∞∞
Pemberley, March
“Brother, I shall go for a ride with Mrs Annesley. Would you like to join us?”
Darcy looked at his sister. She seemed to have blossomed since they returned, just as the trees and flowers blossomed under the warm spring sun.
“No, dearest, I have some letters to finish, but I promise to ride tomorrow. How are you feeling today? You look lovely indeed.”
“Thank you, brother. I feel very well—as I always do at Pemberley. Everything is so green and lovely, and the smell is intoxicating everywhere we go. Mrs Annesley is charmed—just as I hoped. She said she would stay outside constantly if she could. I barely convinced her to sleep inside!”
He smiled with delight at the girl’s high spirits and joyful mood.
“We can arrange a bed in the garden if she insists,” he replied in jest. “Enjoy your time, dearest, and I shall see you later. I shall join you for your piano practice.”
“I look forward to it,” she said, embracing him gently. “If you write to Richard, please tell him we miss him dearly.”
She left, and he followed her with contentment until she closed the door behind her. Only then did he return his gaze to the paper on his desk bearing Richard’s handwriting. He began to read again; surely, he misunderstood the words the first time.
Aunt Catherine sent a long letter to my father, expressing her opinion about Thomas’s future wife.
Then she filled half the page with opinions of the new Mrs Collins—who seems to meet with her approval.
Aunt also mentioned that Mrs Collins awaits the visit of some relatives: her father, younger sister, and a friend—a certain Elizabeth Bennet.
They arrive in about a week. I thought you might know these people since they live near Netherfield.
Aunt Catherine seemed pleased to have company while she awaits our visit—which brings me to the reason for this letter.
Since I am at your disposal, please let me know when you have planned our annual visit to Rosings so I can make my own plans accordingly.
He read the note repeatedly; she would be at Rosings for a few weeks.
He must do everything in his power to avoid her.
Fortunately, he would go to Kent no sooner than two months hence.
She would not be in the neighbourhood by then.
He would not see her again; he would not expose himself to the danger of her presence. He would stay away from her.
He paced the room several times then returned to reread the letter. Eventually, he breathed deeply and wrote in haste:
Cousin, I suggest we anticipate our journey slightly and travel to Rosings in a fortnight. We shall meet in London as usual. Georgiana will remain at Pemberley with Mrs Annesley. She sends you her best regards.
∞∞∞
Longbourn to Kent, March
The departure from Longbourn on a fine spring day was both sad and joyful, and the journey proceeded smoothly.
They reached London as expected; the Season was in its full glory as observed on the animated streets.
People and carriages, voices and cries, green trees and paths with flowers inviting long walks—all aroused Elizabeth’s spirit.
She had always enjoyed the lively din of Town, unlike her father who loathed the noise and crowds.
Sir William and Maria, her travelling companions, could barely conceal their excitement.
Maria looked at everything in awe while Sir William struggled to appear composed, providing his daughter with all sorts of details about his attendance at St. James’s that she had heard countless times before.
In the late afternoon, their carriage arrived in Gracechurch Street. Greetings, embraces, laughs, and tears were exchanged and warm welcomes addressed repeatedly.
The first half of the day passed as a moment. Elizabeth and Jane rejoiced in the delight of being reunited and sharing private moments together. Elizabeth was happy to see her sister looking so well, which banished all fear for her health.
Later on, Mr Wilson joined them for a delicious dinner with five courses and countless animated discussions. Mr Wilson repeated his intention of visiting Hunsford, and his words were cheered by Sir William, who expressed his belief that Mr and Mrs Collins would be excellent hosts.
The next day, after an early breakfast, the journey to Kent continued.
Elizabeth’s spirits were high. Eventually, they left the main road for the lane to Hunsford, and all eyes anticipated the Parsonage.
At every turning, they expected it to come into view, but the first place to expose its grandeur to their curiosity was Rosings Park.
Elizabeth smiled at the recollection of all she had heard of its inhabitants. On first sight, she noted that the number of windows had not been exaggerated, and the garden was as lovely as described.
At length, the Parsonage could be seen. Mr Collins and Charlotte appeared at the door, and the carriage stopped at the small gate. In a moment, they were all out of the chaise, rejoicing at the pleasant meeting.
Mrs Collins welcomed her friend with unconcealed pleasure, and Elizabeth responded affectionately.
As for her cousin, Elizabeth noticed his manners had been little altered by his marriage: his formal civility was still there, and he did not allow her to enter until he posed several inquiries about her family.
Inside, he welcomed them to his humble abode and repeated all his wife’s offers of refreshment.
After they admired every article of furniture in the room, from the sideboard to the fender, Mr Collins invited them to take a stroll in the garden, the cultivation of which he attended to himself.
Every view was pointed out insistently, but none could compare with the prospect of Rosings, which appeared through an opening in the trees.
“And tomorrow, my dear sir, my dear Maria, my dear cousin—you will have the great joy of seeing Rosings for yourselves from the inside. Her ladyship has invited us all for tea—an honour that I am sure you all appreciate.”
“We surely do, sir,” Elizabeth offered. “And we look forward to admiring everything you have described so diligently.”
“And you shall, my dear cousin—I can promise you that,” Mr Collins declared, bowing to her.
∞∞∞
Despite a tendency to find amusement in her present situation, Elizabeth could not deny the beauties of Rosings.
The walk from the Parsonage to the manor was as charming as the spring day.
Mr Collins spoke of the number of gardeners in charge of trees, flowers, and paths, but Elizabeth heard little and relished the sensation of walking through one of the loveliest gardens she had ever seen.
Slowly, Rosings Manor presented itself in all its beauty, and Elizabeth expressed her admiration.
“I am glad to hear your favourable opinion, but I am sure nobody would say otherwise,” Mr Collins declared. “There are few places in England as beautiful as Rosings. Lady Catherine would not have it otherwise.”
Sir William and Maria were so much in awe that they could not say a word. The notion of meeting Lady Catherine de Bourgh added to their silence. When the large front door opened, Maria held her father’s arm tightly.
“Come, let me show the way. Her ladyship must be in the drawing room. There—is this not the most remarkable hall you have seen? Come, let us go this way.” Mr Collins led them with a rapturous air and soon stopped in front of another door—smaller but no less impressive.
He pushed it, invited the others inside, then followed them and stepped forward until he halted and bowed to a lady sitting in a large armchair, two companions on her left side.
“Lady Catherine, it is my humble honour to present to you my father-in-law, Sir William Lucas, my sister-in-law, Maria, and my cousin Miss Elizabeth Bennet. We are all exceedingly grateful for your ladyship’s invitation. I cannot say—”
“Yes, yes, take a seat,” the lady interrupted him.
Her voice was as impressive and decided as her physical presence.
Her features—still handsome—were shadowed by a cold severity that barely allowed the eyes to rest upon her face.
She glared at them with unconcealed curiosity, measuring them from head to toe.
Elizabeth struggled against her own amusement; several moments were enough to recognise that Lady Catherine was much like her nephew, only worse.
She wondered whether her ladyship would find her tolerable enough to be admitted to her table.
“So, you have finally arrived. I was saying to my daughter Anne and Mrs Jenkinson that you were almost late.”
“Lady Catherine, I assure you that we tried to be punctual,” Mr Collins responded with increased panic.
“I know you were timely; you do not have to point out the obvious to me. I said ‘almost.’ Mr Collins, take a more distant chair and allow Miss Bennet and Sir William to sit near me. I wish to speak to them.”
He instantly moved, and Elizabeth obediently took the indicated chair while a smile threatened to spread over her face.
She glanced at Miss de Bourgh again; she appeared small and thin, and a thought crossed Elizabeth’s mind. She looks sickly and cross. Yes, she will do for him very well. She will make him a very proper wife.
The image of the haughty Mr Darcy with this pale, silent wife seemed amusing for a moment; then she briefly met Miss de Bourgh’s eyes. They were blue and empty, and the eyelashes often blinked as she watched the guests with restrained curiosity.