Chapter Fourteen #2
Lady Catherine harrumphed under her breath, but said nothing to contradict.
Mrs Bennet made a point of flattering her ladyship and saying how honoured they should be to receive her at Longbourn for the wedding in a few weeks’ time, and how they hoped Miss de Bourgh would be well enough to travel to see her cousin married too.
Lady Catherine’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully as Mrs Bennet mentioned Anne, and Darcy wasn’t at all surprised when his aunt drew him aside as they left the church, grasping onto his arm and scowling up at him.
“Now Darcy,” she began. “I will go along with this farce because you haven’t left me a great deal of choice, but...”
“I’m not going to marry Anne.” He cut her off before she could even begin. It was obvious where the conversation was headed: she planned to demand he announce his engagement to Anne in return for her appearance of enthusiasm for Fitzwilliam and Lydia’s match.
“Darcy!” Lady Catherine swelled up like a bullfrog, her face turning an alarming shade of puce.
“Before you even begin, Aunt, you should know that Anne informed me years ago that should you ever manage to browbeat me into proposing, she would decline the offer. She is determined to never marry, because her doctors have long advised her that attempting to carry a child would mean her certain death, a fact of which I know you are also well aware.”
He had taken the wind right out of his aunt’s sails. Her high colour drained away, and her mouth opened and closed several times.
“Your mother and I had hoped,” she began finally, before trailing off.
“Your daughter’s life must come before your hopes, Aunt,” Darcy said, not unkindly.
“My mother would never have wanted Anne to risk her health. And you must think of your own future! Should Anne pass away in an unsuccessful attempt to have a child, one of her de Bourgh cousins inherits Rosings. What would you do, in that case?”
“Darcy!” Lady Catherine clutched at her chest. “Do not even speak of such dreadful possibilities!”
“Then stop trying to make them come to pass!” He gentled his tone when she started back a little. “For her own sake, Anne should not marry, and she is quite reconciled to it. Allow yourself to accept it, and your daughter for who she is, and I think you will both be much happier.”
“Well,” Lady Catherine said, in a tone which seemed to imply she thought she ought to be outraged by his plain speaking interference, but could not argue with his logic.
“But then what of you, Darcy?” she asked after a moment of stunned silence.
Her eyes narrowed. “You cannot possibly be thinking... no, I will not have it. Bad enough Fitzwilliam is marrying into that family! His mésalliance means you must seek a truly great match, to counter the degradation.”
“Aunt Catherine,” Darcy said, his tone not unkind, “I must beg you not to speak to me on matters which are absolutely none of your business.”
“Well!”
A little to his surprise, she did not swell up and change colour again, but looked at him thoughtfully.
“It is not like you to be rude, Darcy,” she said finally.
“I can only conclude that you are frightfully in love with the chit and will fight tooth and nail to have her, and you were quite correct yesterday... I do not wish to see this family broken apart.”
“And you quite like crossing wits with Elizabeth,” Darcy noted.
Lady Catherine’s lips twitched. “She entertained me more than anyone has in quite some time,” she admitted. “I cannot like it, Darcy. But of the two matches... I think she would make you happier than the silly little sister will make Fitzwilliam.”
“Give Miss Lydia a chance,” Darcy counselled. “I think she might surprise you, once she has had a chance to grow up a little.”
“We shall see,” Lady Catherine said, a little ominously, and then she squeezed his arm. “Think carefully before you commit yourself, nephew. See this hasty marriage of Fitzwilliam’s done first, and consider your options.”
It was the wisest advice his aunt had ever given him, and Darcy watched her walk away with a thoughtful frown furrowing his brow.
What would Lady Catherine have said, he wondered, if he had confessed to his ill-fated proposal at Easter?
With a wry smile, he turned back towards the church, looking for his cousin and the Bennet family.
Mrs Bennet was chatting cosily with Lady Carshalton, the lady giving Mrs Bennet advice about where the best modistes were in Brighton to order wedding clothes.
“Oh no,” Mrs Bennet declared, loud enough for half the street to hear, “not for my dear girl; she is marrying the son of an earl! Only the finest modistes in London will do for her trousseau!”
“London,” Lydia giggled, her eyes starry. “I have wanted to see London above all things.”
Darcy winced, but only a little. Had not Georgiana said almost exactly the same thing, with that exact look in her eyes, when he had suggested a holiday at Ramsgate for her?
And look how that had turned out. Girls of that age were apt to be a little silly, and his advice to his aunt was sensible - they must wait and see how Lydia turned out, once she had the benefit of some time under wiser mentors than Mrs Bennet.