Chapter 4 Heated Tempers
Elizabeth
The tête-à-tête with Fitzwilliam revived my battered spirits.
Not even the sight of Lady Rebecca, who appeared more attractive than ever in an elegant dinner gown of fine satin with a dark net overlay—a garment which lent prominence to the lady’s perfect figure—could erode my confidence.
Nor did I lose an iota of poise when Fitzwilliam escorted the woman to dinner whilst Graham took both Lady Catherine and me—convention dictated as much.
Not until the second course did the focused, relentless actions of Lady Catherine and Lady Rebecca begin to chip away at my mood. The two of them, seated on either side of my husband, manifested a united goal—to impress him with Lady Rebecca’s many notable attributes.
My husband’s aunt elucidated, primarily to him but with occasional glances to me, her profound approval and admiration for her new friend.
She related the impressive ancestors in Lady Rebecca’s family, her education at an exclusive seminary, and her long list of accomplishments.
Then she encouraged her friend to expound on her love of music and her extensive training on several instruments, including the pianoforte and harp.
In my struggle to reclaim the contentment I had enjoyed a mere thirty minutes earlier, I forced myself to smile, drawing upon my stubbornness. I could not bear to be intimidated at the will of others; or at the least, I should not allow others to view my unease.
Graham, who sat to my left, spoke little. The enormous portions of food on his plate occupied him. That man loved to eat! The servants kept his end of the table well stocked with ample portions of his favoured dishes. His few comments related to the excellence of the food.
Towards the end of the meal, my husband's aunt focused upon Lady Rebecca’s need to learn the specifics of running an estate. She named a few subjects for which Fitzwilliam ought to familiarise the lady.
Lady Catherine set down her dessert spoon and wiped her mouth with her napkin. “Darcy, with just the five of us, there is no need for a separation of sexes. My friend is eager to see your orangery and library. Would you be good enough to show them to her now?
My husband’s eyes fell upon me. “Graham has not yet seen those rooms, and I am sure he would like to join us. We may all go together.”
“You cannot suppose I should appreciate so much walking.” Lady Catherine’s high-pitched protest irritated my ears. “No, Elizabeth and I shall have tea in the drawing-room. There are matters I should like to discuss with her.”
With a heaving breath, Fitzwilliam opened his mouth—no doubt to voice a protest.
“Of course. I should be pleased to remain and talk with you, my lady.” My hurried response forestalled him. I met his raised eyebrows with a slight shrug. His aunt wished to speak to me alone, and I should hear what she had to say.
Graham raised his head from the plate of food to hold me in a sidelong look. “Egad, I cannot decide which of you most needs my protection.” He spoke just above a whisper. “In any case, I should prefer to watch over you.”
His jest brought a smile to my face, but it faded when the comely, dark-haired Lady Rebecca’s aside to Fitzwilliam drew my gaze. In truth, based on her lascivious comportment with my husband, he needed a saviour more than I did.
As it happened, Lady Catherine insisted that Graham accompany Fitzwilliam and Lady Rebecca. Thus, she and I removed to the drawing-room. We took seats, and I sipped on tea.
“You must feel exceedingly proud of yourself.” Disdain coloured her statement.
What a wretched beginning! I blinked at her. “Why do you presume me to be proud?”
Her ladyship’s tea cup landed on the saucer with a clang. “Do not be coy with me! You cannot be ignorant of my meaning. In a shocking show of cunning and deceitfulness you took advantage of my extraordinary condescension and stole my daughter’s intended out from under my nose!”
My lips pursed. Not this again. She referred to April of 1812, when I stayed with Charlotte and Mr. Collins in Kent.
Lady Catherine had granted Mr. Collins the living at Hunsford Parsonage.
No engagement ever existed between my husband and his cousin Anne.
“Despite what you may think, I had no design whatsoever for Fitzwilliam back then. At that time, I did not even like him.”
“You did not like him?” She spat the words.
“What a nonsensical statement. How could you dislike a responsible, handsome, and respected man of fortune capable of elevating you from your plebeian origin and ensuring the comfort and well-being of your pitiful family? In your place, even the most obtuse of young ladies would have found something to like in Darcy. I can think of many repugnant words to describe you, but ‘obtuse’ is not one of them.”
I stifled a sigh. “Obtuse” could well describe my stubborn adherence to faulty opinions about Fitzwilliam back then; I had discounted any new information in opposition to my views and refused to budge from my mistaken beliefs until Fitzwilliam had resorted to providing me a frank letter that revealed private information.
“Did you not notice that on my visits to Rosings, I gave Cousin Richard far more attention than I ever gave Fitzwilliam?”
“Yes, I noticed the abominable mode in which you used my other nephew for your own purposes. If Richard had a fortune of his own, he may have been your object instead of a pawn in your elaborate plan of seduction. Your scheme to make Darcy jealous served you well, for he fell right into your trap.”
Good gracious, she had a fertile imagination! “I had no plan of any sort. At the time, I believed Fitzwilliam disapproved of me. I liked Richard and enjoyed his company, but I did not aspire to wed either of them.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Do not take me for a fool! I know the depths of your perfidy. The maid at the parsonage informed me of the instances when you met with Darcy alone. You dare not deny that.”
Fie! Lady Catherine appeared to view those instances as assignations.
“On a couple of occasions, Fitzwilliam called when the others were away, but not by design.” At least not by my design; no doubt when Fitzwilliam had sought me out to make his ill-advised proposal, he had expected to find me alone.
“That is not all I know.” Her speech increased in vigour.
“My grooms spotted you and Darcy walking out alone together on no less than three occasions. Do not try my patience by telling me you came upon him by happenstance.” Her clenched hands, taut jaw, and deep carmine complexion exemplified her firm conviction and depth of feeling.
In all likelihood, nothing I could say would convince Lady Catherine to abandon her firm beliefs.
What if I tried a penitent approach? I took several moments to gather my thoughts.
“As I reflect upon my conduct at Hunsford, I concede to a few instances when I did not behave as I ought to have done.” I drew my lower lip between my teeth.
My biggest regret is the abominable way I treated Fitzwilliam following his proposal, but you would not be pleased to hear that.
“Rather than delve into my tangled courtship with your nephew, I shall convey my sincere regret for any disappointment our marriage caused you and Cousin Anne. Nevertheless, I cannot be sorry for wedding him. Your nephew and I love each other, and we are happy together.”
She stared at me, her features warping into a depiction of enmity.
“Your regret, even if I accepted it as genuine, would do nothing to assuage the devastation my Anne felt when she learned Darcy had forsaken her. My daughter became depressed and inconsolable. As the weeks passed, anger consumed her.”
Lady Catherine’s clasped hands twisted in her lap.
“For many years, Anne lived with the expectation that she would marry Darcy. I had told her this from the time she was a child. My sister and I spoke of their future union often, and it was her favourite wish. When Darcy grew to be an honourable and responsible adult, I knew he would be the perfect husband for my daughter—until you came along and blithely ruined our plans. You made him forget everything he owed to his family.”
The wrathful turn of Lady Catherine’s visage sent a shiver down my spine.
How could another person feel such animosity towards me?
It seemed our period of estrangement had done nothing to reduce the lady’s fury.
Did I own a portion of the blame for this situation?
Should I have pressed harder to urge my husband to reconcile with his aunt before now?
“I am grieved to hear of Anne’s disappointment. I never meant to hurt anyone.”
“If you speak the truth, it is proof of how dangerous you are. How much damage would you have done if that had been your ambition?”
“You cannot be certain Fitzwilliam would have married Anne if he had never met me. If he had had any intention of marrying her, why did he not make the engagement official?”
“If not for you, I have no doubt he would have done so. If he had been decided against the marriage, he could have declared this on one of his visits to Rosings. He never told me he would not marry her, and he could not have doubted my expectation.”
A suffocating sensation of weight settled over me, and I sank lower in my chair.
If she could be taken at her word, why had Fitzwilliam not made his intentions explicit?
In his place, I should have protested the concept to eliminate the possibility of any misunderstandings.
Had he expected to marry Anne at one time?
If so, that would explain why he had never denied his aunt’s designs for them.
An image came to me of Anne with her eyes red and her cheeks streaked with tears.
“Pray, how does your daughter fare now?”