Chapter 34 #2
“How dare you accuse me of stooping so low over this insignificant chit. Can you not see how she is driving a wedge between you and your own family? Will you forsake me for a conniving fortune hunter out to ruin you?”
“Elizabeth is my family as much as you are, only I have chosen her to be such. Someone sabotaged her carriage, resulting in harm to her person, and I will not relent until I find out who is responsible.”
Mr. Collins interrupted, “Was not Mr. Wickham accused of that crime … besides his many others?”
Neither Fitzwilliam nor his aunt heeded him, leaving Mr. Collins to wither into a corner where Elizabeth could only hope he would make himself unheard.
“You would accuse your own flesh and blood of such atrocities? I do not know you, Fitzwilliam Darcy.”
“Mother! You know not what you speak,” Miss de Bourgh plead.
Elizabeth sought to lessen the tension. Gesturing once again at the chairs, she said, “Please take a seat. Heated words will do nothing to mend the breach I am supposed to have caused.”
“Silence!” Lady Catherine demanded, jabbing her cane into the carpet.
Taking a deep breath to compose herself, Elizabeth said, “You forget yourself. You imposed yourself on me. In my home. I am under no obligation to you.”
“You unabashedly hunted my nephew, preying on him with your feminine machinations. You are nothing more than a grubby upstart willing to sell yourself to gain Pemberley.”
Elizabeth forced a smile, the sting of Her Ladyship’s insults placated by her own purpose. She was on the verge of resurgence. “That is hardly the case.” She squeezed Fitzwilliam’s hand, wondering when he had reached for her … or if she had reached for him.
“You have the audacity to deny you only accepted his proposal after you had toured Pemberley and its properties?”
“Yes. That is precisely what I suggest because it is the truth.” Elizabeth was proud to say she had fallen in love with Fitzwilliam — the second time — with absolutely no memory of Pemberley. Any claims to the contrary had no leg to stand on. She knew it. Fitzwilliam knew it.
“Obstinate, headstrong girl! Have you no shame?”
Elizabeth’s head reeled, the people and the room whirling as past spun into the present. She and Lady Catherine faced each other, Her Ladyship demanding Elizabeth give up her last thread of hope and Elizabeth refusing.
She remembered. She remembered all of it.
Elizabeth wanted to shout her triumph, to spin until she was dizzy.
There would be time enough for celebration later.
First, Lady Catherine. Calming her breath, Elizabeth said, “I am obstinate and headstrong. And my mind has never been more sound than it is at this moment.” She looked at Fitzwilliam, her hands clasped with his in front of her lest she burst with happiness.
Recalling her words, delighting in her ability to repeat them, Elizabeth said, “You have insulted me in every possible way, and can now have nothing further to say.” She rose, opening the door and losing some of her bravado when her mother and father stumbled forward into the room.
Clearing her throat to keep from laughing, she added as commandingly as she was capable, “I must ask you to leave immediately.”
Lady Catherine huffed and puffed and blew outcries and threats. “Only a girl out of her mind would treat me in this undignified fashion.”
The Bedlam doctor, Elizabeth noticed, no longer watched her when he had a more volatile example to keenly observe. His gaze riveted on Lady Catherine.
“I demand you commit her!” Lady Catherine waved her finger at Elizabeth.
He rubbed his hands together, his voice docile, mollifying. “Without proof of madness, I have no authority to take her in. Tis a pity, for the director looked forward to a healthy subject recently displaying symptoms of mental degradation.”
Lady Catherine’s veins throbbed at her temples, casting a purple hue over her complexion.
The doctor continued in his complacent tone, “Of course, madness is not unique to the young, nor can those of the first circles escape its hold. If it bit King George, nobody is immune.”
It was then Lady Catherine must have realized his words were not directed at Elizabeth, but at her. From mottled purple and red, she blanched white. “You cannot believe me mad!”
He merely observed her, his hands rubbing.
“Darcy, Anne, tell him I am not mad!” Her eyes were white and wide.
Reassurances proved nothing when Her Ladyship gave enough evidence to counter her and anyone else’s claims.
Elizabeth intervened with a question. “How did you come to arrive today, sir? I was under the impression Her Ladyship wrote a week ago.”
Finally, the man released his predatory focus away from his new target. “Dr. Sculthorpe called on the director as I was taking my leave. He informed us that your condition, since Her Ladyship’s letter was received, had reversed in its entirety.”
A lie for which Elizabeth was grateful.
“As you can imagine,” he continued, “Dr. Slade’s disappointment was severe. However, madness runs rampant, and when he received a second letter, more insistent and aggressive than the first, he sent me to investigate.” Again, his gaze settled on Lady Catherine.
“You did not come for me, but for Lady Catherine? What proof have you to pursue this course?” Elizabeth asked.
“Not only have I heard it observed from her own relatives this very evening that she is not acting like herself, but I have personally noted her complete disregard for decorum — a vulgarity no lady of her position in society would ever overlook.
“The lady herself wasted no time explaining, in a convincing manner I will add, the attachment between Miss de Bourgh and her nephew.” He nodded at Fitzwilliam. “However, I have yet to see any evidence that such a connection ever existed.
“Complete disregard for propriety and social norms, sudden shifts in temperament, untempered aggression aimed at an imagined foe, and delusions. I would say I have more than enough proof to suggest you charge Her Ladyship with the care of the asylum I represent. We will take good care of her there.”
This was serious. Had Elizabeth possessed a more vengeful nature, she would have held her peace. But she could not be responsible for condemning the woman to shame and torment just to be rid of a bur in her boot.
To Fitzwilliam and Anne’s claims of her sanity, Elizabeth added her own. “Her Ladyship is as sharp as I am, sir.”
The doctor frowned. “I hate to return to the asylum empty-handed. If you will not release her to me, if you are certain my efforts to raise a case against her would waste more of my time, then is there anyone else you suggest? Someone young and recently of sound mind, or of the peerage?”
What a strange question to ask of them. As if they would betray anyone to the likes of him.
Papa moved to show the man the door.
“Wait!” exclaimed Lydia. “You said someone young? Would a soldier brought up as a gentleman do?”
“Lydia,” Papa cautioned.
“Papa, I know what I am doing. If George faces trial as he is, they will sentence him to hang. As many times as I have said that I hate him, that I would kill him myself with my bare hands, I cannot send him to die like that. I would rather send him to the madhouse.” Turning to the doctor, she added, “He is at the gaol, but you had better hurry before the militia carts him off.”
He departed, and not one person impeded his withdrawal.
Mama sent for coffee, a kindness Lady Catherine was too unnerved to refuse.
Mr. Collins, however, was presumptuous enough to bid them good night, asserting that the evening had taxed Her Ladyship … as befit elegant females of her station. And so, Mama’s hospitality was verbosely refused in the utmost display of pompous humility.
The depth of Lady Catherine’s humiliation was evidenced in her willingness to lean against Mr. Collins’ arm, availing herself of her rector’s condescension. He must have been overjoyed.
Miss de Bourgh curtsied hastily, obliged to follow in their wake, though it was obvious she would rather stay. It was enough to make Elizabeth pity her, but not enough for her to dissuade Mr. Collins from taking Her Ladyship away from Longbourn.
A collective sigh rippled through the parlor as their unexpected guests gained the hall.
And a collective gasp echoed off the walls when, from the entrance door, they heard the sound of another knock.