Chapter 12 #3
“Shall I hear about these many children or will you only taunt me with their existence and tell me nothing else about them?”
“Very well,” he said with a playful huff. “If you insist. My eldest brother, Timothy, is the viscount and my father’s heir and namesake. He is married to Lady Cassandra Etchley, as was, and they have a young daughter named Wilhelmina. Terrible name for a child, but they did not listen to me.”
“Oh, dear!”
“Lady Cassandra is expecting my next niece or nephew this summer.”
“That’s exciting.”
“Yes, I suppose. The birth of an earl often is.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Second is my brother Harrison, named for my mother’s family. We call him Harry. He is a barrister in London and making a name for himself. He is not married, but Mother is on him to get to it now that he is successful and nearing five and thirty.”
“Oh! Yes, it is high time he settled down,” she said primly. “He must see to it quickly before he is considered a spinster irrevocably.”
“Quite so, Miss Bennet,” he answered gravely. “Next is my sister Judith. She has been married to Lord Lydham more than a decade, though plain Roger Montgomery suits him better.”
“Is he a dull man then?”
“He is a bit of a stick in the mud, but I must admit that I would rather have my sister married to a bore than a man about town.”
“Hear, hear.”
“Forgive me, Miss Bennet, I am overly familiar.”
“Not at all, colonel. Please continue. I believe you have one more brother to go and we have just enough time before reaching the parsonage for you to tell me of him.”
“Ah, yes. Well, there was one other sister after me. Her name was Olivia. She died when she was eleven years old and I twelve. Influenza.”
She pressed his arm again, now feeling badly about teasing him. “I am sorry. Were you close?”
“Yes, we were, odd though it may be. My two elder brothers played with each other, and then were sent off to school, and sandwiched between my sisters as I was, I became caught up in their games. I attended many tea parties as a lad,” he said with a nostalgic smile.
“Is this where your elder sister bossed you about?”
“Oh yes, she was terrible about it. She insisted Olivia and I do everything just as she directed. We often rebelled, which only made her angrier. She was sent off to finishing school shortly before Olivia died. It was sweet, having that time, just the two of us.”
His voice was soft with remembrance and she looped her hand through his arm, offering silent support. “She sounds lovely.”
“Yes, she was. You remind me of her, in some ways. She had expressive brown eyes, too, and was often laughing. She was always cheerful. Of us all, she was the last I would have imagined would have succumbed to—” he trailed off, his voice strained. “Well, anyhow, it is only Judith now.”
She squeezed his arm again and he placed his hand over hers.
“My younger brother is seven years my junior. I have always thought my parents imagined Olivia was the last child. But then came Anthony. He is a curate in Shropshire at the moment. The current incumbent of the living is elderly, and Anthony is preparing to take over for him in the next year or so. He has the temperament for the church—patient, kind-natured, forgiving.”
“You are all of those things, too, are you not?”
“I am flattered you think so, Miss Bennet, but I have mellowed with age. When I was four and twenty, I was not nearly so patient as my brother is. And I have always craved more adventure than Anthony. I would not have suited a quiet life in the country.”
“And so your parents have one son in the law, one in the army, and one in the church, and an heir to train. How perfectly balanced.”
“Yes, my father is quite pleased,” said the colonel jocularly.
“Well, I for one cannot wait to meet them. I enjoy character studies and your family sounds fascinating.”
“Oh, they will give you plenty to study, that is certain. Whether you will enjoy the experience is less so.”
They laughed together and were soon at the gate to the parsonage. She turned to face the colonel.
“Thank you for the escort, sir. I shall see you in the morning.”
He bowed more deeply than she would have expected. “Good day, Miss Bennet. Until tomorrow.”
While Colonel Fitzwilliam was walking with Elizabeth, Darcy was doing something much less agreeable—speaking with his aunt.
Lady Catherine received him in the main drawing room.
He was certain she had heard something of his conversation with Anne, though he could not know if she knew the contents of said conversation, and she had asked him to meet her here with the goal of intimidating him.
She would have to do better than the grandest room at Rosings if intimidation was her aim.
Kent was a perfectly agreeable county and Rosings a lovely estate, but the décor was garish, ostentatious, and not at all to his personal tastes.
If she had wanted to make him feel her supposed superiority and authority, she would have done better to take him to the formal gardens.
For all their over-pruning, they were excellent.
But then they might remind him of the day he had walked with Elizabeth there, and that would distract him utterly from what he wished to tell his aunt.
“Darcy!”
“Yes, Aunt?”
“I have been calling you for five minutes. What are you thinking of? Standing in the middle of the room like a statue?”
He was certain it had been nowhere near five minutes, but time was not something Lady Catherine felt she needed to observe accurately.
“Forgive me, Lady Catherine.” He took the seat she indicated across from herself and looked at her squarely. “Aunt, I have news.”
“Oh?”
“I have asked Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s permission to court her, and she has granted it.”
He had originally intended to say more, but after his meeting with Anne, he thought it best to stick to the facts and make as hasty a retreat as possible.
“You did what?”
“I have requested Miss Bennet’s permission to court her.”
“I heard you, I simply did not believe it. You cannot be in earnest! Jokes such as these are in terribly bad taste, Darcy. What if you were to inadvertently start a rumor? Miss Bennet may be an insignificant country girl, but she does not deserve to have her name mired in gossip for your amusement.”
Darcy took a deep breath. “I am not dragging Miss Bennet’s name into any ill-thought-out joke, Aunt. I have honorable intentions. I am courting Miss Elizabeth, with her permission, and intend to speak to her father as soon as I may.”
Lady Catherine’s face began to pale. She stared at Darcy, the color gradually leaching from her skin as she sat stone still and utterly silent.
“I wished to tell you in person out of respect. I am sorry if this upsets you in any way.” She still had not spoken or moved at all, so Darcy said his last as quickly and smoothly as possible. “I will not be marrying Anne, now or ever. I wish you both good health in the future.”
He rose, bowed, and made his way out of the room before she could respond. He admitted to himself he was concerned for her reaction. He had no desire to be hit with another vase, and if she was in shock, he would allow her to come to grips with his decision in private.
He made his way to the library looking for Fitzwilliam and was informed he had gone for a walk.
Deciding that his cousin had the right of it, he made his way outside and soon enough his steps led him towards the parsonage.
It was only polite to make a farewell call, after all.
And if he happened to see Elizabeth there, all the better.
Darcy raised his hand to knock on the parsonage door and was surprised when Elizabeth opened it herself.
“Fitzwilliam, thank God you’re here.” She pulled the door closed behind her and pulled him off to the side of the house.
He placed his hand on her elbow and led her deeper into the garden. “What is the matter?”
She turned to face him and gasped. “Fitzwilliam! What happened to your head?”
He reached up to touch the cut along his hairline. “I’m afraid it met with a vase.”
“Your head met with a vase?”
He gave her a steady look. “I promise I will tell you all soon enough, but I would like to know what is distressing you now.”
She sighed and said, “Very well. Charlotte decided to travel to Town with us tomorrow, and Mr. Collins has only now returned home and been informed of it.”
“And he has not taken the news well?”
She wrung her hands. “They are having a dreadful row!”
Mr. Collins’s voice was heard through one of the open windows, but only the words “disgrace” and “shameful” were clear enough to comprehend.
“Is his anger about her leaving altogether, or that she is going without him?”
“What is he not angry about?” she said with exasperation.
“He is angry she is going at such short notice, angry she wishes to go without him, angry she did not ask his permission first—as if she were a child!” She suddenly looked back to him with narrowed eyes.
“You would never do such a thing, would you?” When he looked at her in bewilderment she added, “Force me to ask permission before going anywhere, as if I were a little girl?”
“Of course not!” he cried. He could not stop the smile from spreading across his face at the notion that she was imagining their marriage.
He grasped her hand tightly in his. “Your spirit is something I love dearly, and I would not quash it for the world.” He raised her hand to his lips.
“I would like to be told if you are leaving the county, and I would wish you to be properly escorted, but no, Elizabeth, you would not need my permission for anything. I wish to be your husband, not your master.”
She smiled brilliantly at him and raised up onto her toes to bestow a quick kiss on his lips. He looked rather dazed in response and she said, “What are we to do? I feel awful for causing trouble for Charlotte! She has been so kind to me, and this is how I repay her.”