Chapter 7
7
E lizabeth had known the peace at Rosings, with Lady Catherine, could not last.
From the moment she had stepped back through the great doors ofRosings Park, she had felt the weight ofunspoken knowledge pressing against her skin.
Something had changed.
She saw it inthe way the footmen glanced at her as she passed, their eyes a touch too knowing, in theway Mr. Collins fidgeted more than usual, clearing his throat with forced cheerfulness.
And most of all, she saw it inLady Catherine’s gaze.
It wassharper today, more assessing.
Elizabeth had barely taken her seat in the drawing room before Lady Catherineturned her attention fully upon her, setting down her teacup with slow deliberation.
"You were seen in town yesterday, Miss Bennet."
Elizabeth’s fingerstightened around the fabric of her gown.
She lifted her chin. "I was, your ladyship."
Lady Catherine hummed, a smile—small, pointed, and utterly unamused—curving at the edges of her lips.
"With my nephew," she added.
A pause.
Elizabeth’s heartskipped a beat.
The conversation in the bakery. The wayDarcy had walked with her, stood too near, listened too closely. His admission of caring, his defiance against her coming marriage all flashed through her mind.
Elizabethkept her expression composed. "Yes, Mr. Darcy happened upon me in the village. We spoke."
Lady Catherinetilted her head, her eyes narrowing just slightly. "And you think nothing of it?"
Elizabeth exhaled evenly. "I think it was nothing more than a pleasant conversation."
Lady Catherine’s lipspressed together, as though Elizabeth’s answer had displeased her.
She leaned forward, resting her hands over the arms of her chair, her voice dropping to somethinglow, edged with warning. "You must understand, Miss Bennet," she said, "that my nephew is not a man without purpose. He is a man of wealth, of consequence, and his future has long been settled."
Elizabeth’s spinestraightened ever so slightly. "I was not aware that his future was a matter of such certainty.”
Lady Catherine’s expression sharpened. "My daughter, Anne, has been intended for Mr. Darcy since birth.”
Elizabeth’s stomachtwisted sharply, painfully.
Lady Catherine continued, her tonebored, as though she were explaining something dreadfully obvious. "The match is most advantageous for both our families," she said. "My daughter will bring her name, her estate, her bloodline. And Fitzwilliam, in turn, will provide for her the protection and wealth that is her due. It is, in every sense, the perfect arrangement."
Elizabeth’s throat felt tight.
Lady Catherine studied her for a long moment, as thoughwaiting for Elizabeth to crumble, to bow her head in deference.
When she did not, the older woman exhaled sharply.
"I do not claim to know your intentions, Miss Bennet," she said,though her tone suggested she knew them perfectly well. "But I will caution you against forming any…foolish attachments."
Elizabeth’s breath caught.
Foolish attachments. All her foolish attachments to Mr. Darcy flashed through her mind again as she said, “I do have an attachment. I am engaged to Mr. Collins.” She lifted her chin in her most stubborn expression while her heart raged a rebellion against Lady Catherine and against her own words.
Elizabeth folded her handsneatly in her lap, forcing herself to smile. "Thank you for your concern, your ladyship," she said, voice even. "But I assure you, I have no foolish attachments."
Lady Catherinenarrowed her eyes, as though she did not quite believe her.
Elizabeth did not care.
Shestood and curtsied gracefully.
"If you will excuse me," she said, "I believe I shall take a turn about the garden."
Lady Catherine gave a dismissive wave of her hand, as thoughElizabeth were no more consequential than a servant departing the room.
She had not trulymeant to seek him out.
She had told herself she only needed fresh air, needed to breathe, needed to shake off the weight ofLady Catherine’s words.
But somehow,she was not surprised when she saw him standing near the fountain, staring out at the distant hills, as though he had been waiting for her.
Elizabethpaused, her heart hammering painfully against her ribs.
He turnedslowly, and for a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Then, his voice—low, quiet, unreadable—"You look troubled."
She let out a breathless, humorless laugh. "Your aunt has a talent for making me so."
Somethingflickered in his gaze.
Elizabeth exhaled, looking away.
"She told me of your engagement," she said, her voicecarefully neutral.
Darcy’s jawtightened. "Did she?
Elizabeth nodded, wrapping her arms around herself.
"It is a most perfect arrangement," she murmured, echoingLady Catherine’s words."A union of great fortune and great name. I am happy for you."
Silence.
Then—soft, pained—"Elizabeth."
She closed her eyes, tasting the sound of her name on his lips, not correcting him.
"You do not owe me an explanation," she said. "Your life is your own."
He took a step forward.Too close, too near.
"You think I am engaged to Anne."
She swallowed. "It is what your aunt said."
Another step.
Elizabeth forced herself toremain still, tonot retreat, to not move away.
"She is wrong," he said. “And I will never be. How could I even think of her when you are here?”
Elizabeth breathed out in a relief she did not deserve to feel.
Her fingerscurled into fistsat her sides.
"You should not say such things," she whispered. But she secretly become addicted to them.
Darcy looked away. "This is madness," he said under his breath.
Elizabeth let out a weak laugh. "Yes," she agreed. "It is."
A pause.
Then—softer, rawer, as though it cost him something to say it—"I will not marry Anne."
Elizabeth felt the wordslike a blow to the chest.
He would not marry Anne.
The air between themwas unbearably thick, their breaths uneven.
“But will you, Marry Mr. Collins?”
One more step.
And then?—
A sound—sharp, distinct—the clearing of a throat.
Elizabethstartled back, heart pounding, just as a footmanrounded the path, bowing deeply.
"Miss Bennet, Lady Catherine requests your presence."
Elizabeth inhaled sharply, turning awaybefore she could see the look on Darcy’s face.
Before she couldsay something she would regret.
And without another word, she left him standingalone in the garden.