Chapter X
“Netherfield will no longer be an option if your friend decides to be angry with my interest in Miss Bennet. Do you suppose it would be best to find alternative accommodations?”
It was a notion that had not yet crossed Darcy’s mind, though he knew he was working toward it. While Darcy could not imagine an angry Bingley, so jovial was his temperament, these were uncharted waters.
“In all honesty,” replied Darcy, “I cannot say what Bingley will do.”
Fitzwilliam nodded, his glance taking in the room around them, the main sitting-room at Netherfield Park.
“Netherfield is convenient to Longbourn, but I have no wish for Bingley to throw me from the premises. I have no notion of what else is in the area, but it may be best to search for alternate accommodations.”
Darcy pondered what that would mean. “Can you afford to lease another estate?”
“If it is a small property,” said Fitzwilliam with a grimace. “It will affect my future, but for the moment, the most important consideration is the ability to stay near Miss Bennet.
“And before you say it,” said Fitzwilliam, glaring at him, “I will not accept your charity.”
“Why you would consider it charity, I do not know. Do I not have a similar reason to remain in residence?”
Speculation bloomed on his cousin’s face. “So, you mean to pursue Miss Elizabeth?”
“That remains uncertain,” replied Darcy.
“I have only just confessed my interest—it is much too early for anything else. However, that does give me a reason to stay. If I were to move from Netherfield, that might draw Bingley’s interest, but you are correct.
Should Bingley still consider himself infatuated with Miss Bennet, his resentment against me may exceed his blame for you. ”
Fitzwilliam eyed him for a moment, then nodded. “Yes, you may be right.
“I have not been living here at Bingley’s largesse,” added Fitzwilliam. “While Bingley pays the lease and the servants, I have been managing the purchase of the food and other such expenses. Should you look into another estate, perhaps I can provide similar support.”
“You know I can better afford it, Cousin,” said Darcy.
“That is beyond question. Yet a man prefers to make his own way in the world. It would help my sense of independence if I contributed to our expenses.”
“Then I shall contact my man in London and instruct him to look into properties in the area,” said Darcy. “I have no notion if there is anything in the immediate community, but perhaps we can find something within five or ten miles.”
“It is not ideal,” said Fitzwilliam, “but I suspect it is for the best.”
Whatever Darcy meant to say next remained a mystery, for a commotion arose in the hall outside. Darcy met Fitzwilliam’s eyes, the confusion lasting for only a moment—a voice rose above the tumult, one they would both know anywhere. It was Lady Catherine.
“It appears we may have misjudged Lady Catherine,” said Fitzwilliam, standing as the noise approached the sitting-room door.
“Unless she saw something in Collins’s account that suggested her designs for Anne and me were in danger.”
“Collins said nothing about it.”
“That does not mean Lady Catherine did not infer.”
Fitzwilliam nodded but could say nothing else. The door swung open, and the tall form of Lady Catherine swept into the room, her cane clattering by her side. Though it was often difficult to tell—Lady Catherine was in a temper as often as not—it was clear to them both that she was most displeased.
WHAT THE GENTLEMAN at Netherfield did not know was that Lady Catherine made another stop before confronting them.
Not an hour after their departure, the family—other than Mr. Bennet, who had retired to his study—heard carriage wheels crunching on the gravel driveway.
A moment later, they heard a loud voice raised in demand, then Mrs. Hill scurried into the room, leading a tall lady wearing expensive clothing.
She was an imperious woman, erect and proud, her gaze spearing each Bennet lady in turn.
From the curl of her lip, she was not impressed by what she saw.
For a moment, no one spoke; the Bennet ladies were caught in shock and confusion, while the lady inspected them as if they were livestock at market.
“Where is she?” boomed the lady at last.
Mrs. Bennet started in response. “Where is who? And who are you?”
It was not the most coherent reply imaginable, but Elizabeth could not blame her mother—she was just as confused.
The lady, far from recognizing that she had barged into the house of another without even a by your leave, glared at Mrs. Bennet.
To her credit, Mrs. Bennet did not flinch, though it was clear she was a woman of high society, accustomed to deference.
“I suppose you must be Mrs. Bennet, the mistress of this place?”
“I am,” replied Mrs. Bennet, the woman’s tone provoking more than a hint of belligerence. “Again, I ask you—who are you and why are you here?”
The woman’s eyes blazed, but she seemed to understand she would get nowhere if she did not introduce herself. “I am Lady Catherine de Bourgh, aunt of Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy. I understand my nephews are known to you.”
“Lady Catherine!” exclaimed Mrs. Bennet, the light of understanding illuminating her face. “Oh, yes, of course! How good of you to visit today. Will you not sit and take tea with us?”
Trust her mother to misinterpret the woman’s purpose here.
Though Elizabeth had heard much of Lady Catherine from Mr. Collins and a little from Mr. Darcy, the most important point was what Mr. Darcy had told her at the Collinses’ wedding reception.
Elizabeth could not suppose that Lady Catherine knew anything about Mr. Darcy’s recent actions, but Mr. Collins himself had tried to take Jane to task for allowing Colonel Fitzwilliam to express interest in her.
That had provoked Lady Catherine to act, it appeared.
“No, I shall not take tea with you,” snapped Lady Catherine.
Mrs. Bennet’s jaw fell, but Lady Catherine did not give her time to recover.
“When my parson, Mr. Collins, returned from his wedding, he related a most alarming tale to me. Though I wondered at the audacity of the young lady in question, I could not allow this travesty to proceed without making my sentiments known to you. So, I ask you again, Mrs. Bennet—which of these girls is Miss Jane Bennet?”
The flick of her eyes to Jane told Lady Catherine all she needed to know, though the lady waited for Mrs. Bennet to confirm. The wait was long, for Mrs. Bennet appeared to understand at last what sort of woman had invaded her home, her pale features a testament to her sudden consternation.
“Well, woman?” demanded Lady Catherine. “Are you witless as well as ambitious?”
That provoked a little of Mrs. Bennet’s spirit to return. “Ambitious? I know not what Mr. Collins has told you, but the Bennets of Longbourn are not avaricious.”
“And yet, you have allowed your daughter to pursue my nephew, a man far above her by every measure, in defiance of all decency. Did you not suggest my parson mind his own affairs when he warned you against raising your eyes too high?”
“You are mistaken, Lady Catherine,” said Jane, drawing the lady’s attention to her. “Neither I nor anyone in my family said anything to Mr. Collins on the subject—the response belonged to your nephew.”
Lady Catherine’s eyes narrowed. “So, you are Miss Jane Bennet?”
“I am,” said Jane, betraying not a trace of hesitation.
The lady turned and stalked to her. “Then my business is with you. The rest of your family may depart and leave the room to us so that I may make my sentiments known to you.”
“If you believe I shall depart and allow you to abuse my daughter in private, you have mistaken my character.”
It was a more courageous stance than Elizabeth expected from her mother, and it drew Lady Catherine’s ire.
“Do you not know who I am?”
“We know who you are,” said Mrs. Bennet. “That does not give you the right to assault my daughter.”
The lady’s jaw appeared hard as diamond, but she understood that she would not carry her point. She directed her next words to Jane.
“Very well, if you wish me to humiliate you in front of all your family, that means nothing to me. Miss Bennet, you are treading on thin ground. My nephew is a younger son, but he is also the son of an earl, destined to marry a woman who will provide connections and wealth to the family. Given the estate on which you were raised, you cannot provide my nephew what he has a right to expect, to say nothing of your connections, which include my parson, no less. This match to which you aspire is impossible.”
“Colonel Fitzwilliam has made no promises to me,” replied Jane.
Elizabeth noted how her sister kept her calm demeanor, appearing unintimidated by the lady’s denunciation.
“I am a woman who may only accept or reject a man who presents himself. If you wish to understand Colonel Fitzwilliam’s purpose, perhaps it would be best to ask him. ”
“I am asking you,” spat the lady. “Though my nephew knows his duty, any man may be taken in by the seductive allure of a siren.”
Lady Catherine turned to regard them all, a sneer curling her lips.
“Mr. Collins has told me about your sister’s rejection of his suit—it is clear you have other men of greater consequence in your sights.
No doubt, one of you already schemes to ensnare my other nephew, Mr. Darcy.
Fortunately, Darcy knows his duty and will not shirk. ”