CHAPTER 7 #2
It was not a regular occurrence for Lady Catherine de Bourgh to hold her evening audiences, by which she ensured that the young and inexperienced guests remained within proper bounds and behaved as they ought.
That evening was an exception. After Mr. Collins’s flattering remarks, it was time she welcomed her nephew, Mr. Darcy.
To address him, she believed, required no particular effort; it was a task well within her command.
She chose to stand in front of a tall window that overlooked the vast estate, with Darcy by her side. They had been discussing important matters concerning their family in that very spot, and Lady Catherine was determined that he should now be made properly sensible of her opinion.
“Darcy,” she began, her voice cool and controlled rather than openly severe, “I must express my disapproval at your sudden, unannounced arrival here at Rosings. It is most unbecoming for someone of our standing to appear without forewarning.” She paused to let the rebuke sink in before continuing, “And I have also noted your coldness towards Mr. Wickham, whom I have graciously extended my patronage upon receiving your letter of recommendation.”
Darcy clenched his jaw, instantly regretting the moment he ever penned that letter.
He turned to gaze at his autocratic aunt, his eyes narrowing as he replied, “Lady Catherine, I fear I was misled into supporting Mr. Wickham. I have since discovered aspects of his character which lead me to believe he may have designs not immediately apparent, even as the new vicar under your patronage.”
Lady Catherine raised a single eyebrow, clearly skeptical of Darcy’s claims. “Is that so?” she queried, her tone icy.
As much as he loathed to admit his own failings, Darcy knew he needed to be honest with his Aunt. “Yes,” he confessed, with visible reluctance, “I have been made aware of certain... improprieties on the part of Mr. Wickham. I cannot, in good conscience, stand by my earlier endorsement of him.”
“Unsavory conduct?” Lady Catherine echoed, a hint of irritation creeping into her voice.
“Pray, Mr. Darcy, do not suppose me so easily swayed by hearsay. If your concerns are truly founded, I must insist that you produce evidence to support them.” She paused, a faint but knowing gleam in her eye as she added, “Do not forget, my dear nephew, that it was upon your own recommendation that I extended my patronage to Mr. Wickham. He was raised at Pemberley, and your father stood as his godfather.”
Darcy’s chest tightened with frustration as he struggled to maintain his composure.
He knew that attempting to argue with his overbearing aunt would be fruitless, but he couldn’t simply let the matter rest. His mind raced, searching for a way to make Lady Catherine see reason without undermining his own credibility.
“Very well, Lady Catherine,” he finally responded, his voice more controlled than before. “I shall endeavour to provide you with more concrete proof of my claims. Until then, I must ask that you at least keep an open mind on this matter.”
“An open mind?” Lady Catherine scoffed, her disdain palpable. “I shall keep an open mind when you present me with something more than mere accusations and innuendo, Darcy.”
With that, Lady Catherine’s eyes narrowed, a glint of defiance shining in them as she said, “I see no reason to doubt Mr. Wickham’s character.
He is a gentleman in every sense of the word.
His style is impeccable, his manner of speech eloquent and refined.
People are drawn to him, and he carries himself with a natural grace that cannot be feigned. ”
Mr. Darcy smiled faintly, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks, as he watched his aunt continue to sing Wickham’s praises. He knew all too well how easily Wickham could charm those around him, how effortlessly he could twist the truth to suit his own purposes.
“However,” Darcy replied, doing his best to keep the bitterness from his voice, and not entirely succeeding, “I have heard many speak highly of Mr. Wickham’s charm and wit.
But might I remind you, dear Aunt, that appearances can be deceiving?
I have also heard accounts less favourable to his character. ”
“Whispers?” Lady Catherine scoffed, her lips pursing in disapproval. “You would judge a man based on idle gossip?”
Darcy’s hands balled into fists at his sides as he struggled to rein in his emotions. “No, not mere gossip, Aunt. I have been privy to certain...unpleasant truths about Mr. Wickham, which give me cause for concern.”
“Unpleasant truths?” Lady Catherine repeated, her tone incredulous. “Do enlighten me, Mr. Darcy.”
The air grew heavy between them. Darcy weighed his words carefully.
He knew he must tread lightly, lest he further alienate his aunt.
“I am not at liberty to divulge the details of these matters,” he said cautiously.
“But I implore you, Lady Catherine, to exercise caution in your dealings with Mr. Wickham. He may not be all that he appears to be.”
“Caution?” Lady Catherine huffed, her eyes narrowing again in indignation. “I am not some naive girl to be taken in by a pretty face and a silver tongue. I can assure you that I am more than capable of discerning the true nature of those with whom I associate.”
With that, she turned on her heel and strode from the room, leaving Darcy to contemplate his next move in this delicate game of deception and loyalty.
He stood by the window, his brow furrowed as he pondered the conversation that had just transpired. A storm of emotions was brewing within him.
Lady Catherine abruptly reappeared, her usual composure replaced by a sense of unease.
“Mr. Darcy,” Lady Catherine began, her tone measured and her expression cool, “I must suggest that you do not lend too much credence to what Anne has been saying. She has been induced to speak of matters she does not properly understand, and I fear that some of our servants may be misleading her with their petty tales.”
This caught his full attention at once.
Mr. Darcy turned to face her, his eyes searching hers for any hint of duplicity. “What do you mean, Aunt? Are you suggesting there is no cause for concern regarding Mr. Wickham?”
Lady Catherine sighed, seating herself upon a plush armchair. “While I understand your reservations, you must realize that people change, Nephew. You cannot hold onto the past forever.”
“Perhaps,” Darcy replied cautiously, his gaze drifting back towards the window, though his thoughts were now entirely engaged, “but one cannot ignore the possibility of deception either.”
“Is that so?” she asked, steepling her fingers in thought. “However, I believe it would serve you better to focus your energy on more pressing matters.”
“Such as?” Darcy asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet, for instance,” she replied pointedly. “I have heard whispers, Fitzwilliam, that you are much in her company. Persons in the neighbourhood have observed your attentions at the inn. Is it not so?”
His heart skipped a beat as her words struck a chord deep within him.
He swallowed hard, striving to maintain his composure.
“My personal affairs are hardly a matter for discussion, Lady Catherine. Miss Bennet’s father and her relations were present; there was nothing in my conduct to justify such conclusions. ”
“Nevertheless,” she continued, her voice taking on a sharper edge, “it would be prudent for you to put any such notions out of your head. She is not a suitable match for you, and you know it very well.”
Darcy’s fists tightened almost imperceptibly, the anger bubbling just below the surface. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to remain calm. “I appreciate your concern, Aunt, but I assure you that my judgment in such matters can be trusted.”
“See that it is,” Lady Catherine said firmly, her eyes never leaving his. “For your own sake, and for the reputation of our family.”
“Miss Bennet,” he said, his voice steady despite the emotions swelling in his chest, “is my concern, madam.”
Lady Catherine’s eyes narrowed, her lips pursed in disapproval.
She crossed the room, the rustle of her silk gown filling the tense silence.
“Darcy, I must remind you that your actions reflect upon our entire family, and it is our duty to ensure that no scandal befalls us. Your concern must not exceed that obligation.”
Darcy felt the weight of his family’s expectations bearing down on him. But as he thought of Elizabeth’s sparkling eyes and quick wit, something inside him rebelled against those very expectations.
“Be that as it may, Aunt,” he replied, “my happiness cannot be sacrificed to reputation alone. Should Miss Bennet ever engage my affections, I shall not dismiss them lightly.”
“Your heart may deceive you, Nephew,” Lady Catherine warned, her expression stern. “So, I must inform you that Miss Elizabeth Bennet is engaged to Mr. Collins, a man more suited to her social standing.”
Darcy’s heart plummeted like a stone into the depths of despair. His breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak.
“Engaged?” he finally managed to say, more steadily than he felt.
“Yes, engaged,” Lady Catherine confirmed, the satisfaction evident in her tone. “So you see, Mr. Darcy, pursuing Miss Bennet would not only be unwise but also futile. You must let her go.”
As he stood there, reeling from this revelation, Darcy wrestled with disbelief and anger, yet even as the shock took hold, something in him resisted immediate surrender to it.
“Thank you for informing me, Aunt,” he said at last, his voice cold and resolute. “I shall take your words into consideration. It would be well if you were equally disposed to consider mine. I shall dine in my room; I would not wish to intrude upon Vicar Wickham’s appetite. Good evening, Aunt.”