Chapter Fifteen
The next morning after Elizabeth had changed his bandage, she presented Darcy a small silk handkerchief that she had embroidered with his initials. “I—I wished to present you something. A little favor. An expression of gratitude.”
Seeing this, Darcy’s heart glowed with warmth towards her. He simply was filled with a sort of deep satisfaction.
“Do not speak of gratitude. I only do my duty.” Darcy took it and held the small glistening square. “I thank you, so very much.”
She smiled at him and took his hand and kissed it again, as she often did.
A little before lunch, the pleasantness of the day was interrupted by a, to be honest, not wholly unexpected visitor.
“Oh, no!” Georgiana exclaimed. Then she flinched away from the window. “No! She saw me.”
“Who is it?” Elizabeth calmly put her saucer down.
“It is Aunt Catherine! I cannot face her. I cannot. She must know.”
Darcy felt his own frisson of unease.
He of course did not fear his aunt like his sister always had.
He in fact liked Lady Catherine; her manner of talking made her more interesting to listen to than many persons who were never forthright, and she tried to improve the lives of those around her, and her schemes and plans were often good in Darcy’s view.
But she must be angry that he was marrying someone other than Anne, especially someone who was not Anne’s equal or superior in consequence.
Unpleasantness might arise if she wished to abuse Elizabeth to her face, but he would not fail in this first test of the promises that he had made to her.
“Georgie, you ought to stay, at least at first.” Darcy said, “But I will be here the whole time, and I will not permit her to abuse you, and if she becomes too difficult, you may withdraw.”
“Is your aunt Catherine so awful?” Elizabeth asked.
“Yes.” Georgiana replied fervently, and she hugged herself.
Elizabeth picked up Emily and stood next to Georgiana. Elizabeth took the younger woman’s hand. “I will be here as well. And you may hide behind me, or even behind the sofa, if you must.”
Georgiana giggled wetly.
Lady Catherine’s loud piercing voice announced to the butler who she was.
The woman bustled into the room loud, large, and old fashioned. She did not wait to be introduced by the upper manservant from Pemberley who was acting as the butler.
Elizabeth had a real smile, thrown back shoulders, and a confident posture.
Darcy knew that it was in some part an act.
He made himself stand up, ignoring the rush in his head and the pain in his chest as he did so.
Lady Catherine looked around the room. She held her cane in both hands and studied each of them. “Humph.”
“Hello, Aunt,” Darcy said. “It is always a pleasure to see you.”
“Humph.”
It was difficult to not smile in response to her clear determination to be ill tempered. There was nothing frightening in Lady Catherine, though Darcy knew many found her to be so.
When Darcy looked over at Elizabeth to see how she took Lady Catherine, their eyes caught, and there was something sparkling and dancing in Elizabeth’s expression. It made his heart leap.
Poor Georgiana, on the other hand, was on the verge of using the permission which Elizabeth had given her to hide behind the sofa.
Lady Catherine picked up her cane and pointed it at Elizabeth. “You, I presume, are Mrs. Wickham.”
“I am, madam.” Elizabeth replied cooly. That sparkle was still in her eyes, but she was also in a posture that reminded Darcy of how she had looked the first time he’d seen her.
When she had come into his sick room, prepared to fight and demand to hear everything that he could say about Mr. Wickham.
The thought of Wickham gave Darcy less pain than it had before.
“Humph. Well, what do you have to say for yourself?”
Elizabeth’s lips pressed together in a way that Darcy was sure showed a suppressed smile. “I apologize, but I do not quite take your meaning.”
“Humph.” Lady Catherine turned a gimlet eye upon Darcy.
“Got yourself shot, did you. But you killed the man. I have always approved of any gentleman who killed someone in a fair duel. Even if they fought for a bad reason like a bet over how fast a pair of ants would cross the table, or about a horse having gone lame, or one of them having gained the election over the other in their borough. And you had a good reason to fight a duel. I congratulate you, Nephew, on having shown more stomach than most of the young these years have.”
Darcy glanced once more at Elizabeth. Perhaps he’d expected her to be distressed by this reference of praise to her husband having been killed. Or maybe he simply liked to look at her. He did like Elizabeth’s look very much, even though it was his duty to marry her.
Once more their eyes met, and once more his heart leapt to see the expression in them. He found it hard not to smile himself.
“I hardly consider my actions proper,” Darcy replied to Lady Catherine. “Though it was a matter of honor, I must think with regret upon what I did. It was wrong.”
“And you, Georgiana. Shocking behavior. Shocking. I cannot believe that you would do such a thing. With the steward’s son!
His father was a respectable enough man, I suppose, but far beneath you.
And they say you are with child. Are you?
—don’t flinch like that. You are no longer a maiden.
You cannot be surprised to not be treated as one now. ”
Georgiana stared at the floor. She murmured something.
Elizabeth took Georgiana’s arm and whispered to her.
At that his sister stood up straighter and took in a deep breath.
“Lady Catherine, I know I have hurt the family, I have hurt my brother, and I deeply regret my actions. But they cannot be undone. I know that they have set me outside of polite society, and that I cannot expect to be noticed by anyone, especially if the possibility that I am with child proves to be true. I do not expect anything else.”
“Hmph,” Lady Catherine said. “At least you have the stomach to admit it. There will be great trouble, and your brother was terribly injured, but at least you have enough stomach to face that future. I’ll be watching you.
We all will. But you are family. We’ll find a way to manage.
Even if we must hide a bastard child from the world. ”
Now Darcy detected an expression of distaste cross Elizabeth’s face, which was followed by her keeping her expression carefully neutral. To Darcy that showed her displeasure just as strongly as any loud words could have.
“Dear Aunt,” Darcy said, “might I inquire about the purpose of this visit.”
“I have come to hear you contradict an unbelievable story, one which can have no basis in truth. A story relating to that woman.”
She pointed her cane at Elizabeth again.
Elizabeth immediately looked at him. She was watching him. She wanted to see how he would act with his family now that the disapproval of one member was clear.
He suddenly found himself speaking in a way that he never would have before his duel with Wickham, or before knowing Elizabeth. Perhaps it was that he’d spoken so constantly with Elizabeth that her habits of speech seeped into Darcy’s own.
“My dear Aunt,” Darcy said without letting any of his amusement leak into his expression, “I am always happy to tell you that things which cannot have any basis in truth are, by definition and construction, without any basis in truth. I do wonder why you need me to tell you that, when simply consulting any book of mathematics or philosophy will tell you the same.”
Lady Catherine glared. “I mean this story which has gone about that you mean to marry that woman, now that you have shot her husband. And I know it cannot be true, but—”
“My dear madam,” Darcy interrupted her. “You wholly mistake the matter. This is nothing like saying two and two equal five, or that the angles of a triangle sum to more than a hundred and eighty degrees. A decision of two single persons to marry is the sort of thing that always could be true.”
Georgiana snorted, while Elizabeth kept her expression.
Lady Catherine said, “I will not be mocked.” She slammed the cane on the floor. “Now I have heard tale from friends here in Ramsgate that you mean to marry her. I demand you immediately contradict the tale and have her sent away from your household as well.”
“I cannot contradict the story, as it is true,” Darcy replied. “This shows that when you said this was something that could have no basis in truth, that you had made a philosophical error.”
Darcy was confused by himself. This was not how he treated his aunt. He should speak to her in a kindly manner, to try to convince her slowly to accept the marriage, even though it could not be what she wanted.
But Darcy had touched death, in both directions. Matters that he would have said before were of vital importance now just seemed to be…less important. What mattered to him right now was that Elizabeth was deeply amused.
That still mattered, and it perhaps mattered to him more than any duty to his family, or to politeness.
Also, there had been no possibility at all of Lady Catherine being quickly convinced to look on the match with favor.
His aunt gaped at him. “You cannot! You cannot marry that woman.”
Feeling guilt at having made a joke of it, Darcy said softly, “Aunt, I apologize for having treated this as a matter of jest. But I will marry Mrs. Wickham, and she will be shown every respect due to Mrs. Darcy.”
“You cannot! What about Anne! What about the prior engagement existing between you two.”
“You know that we are not engaged. I have never made an offer of my hand to her, and I never would. My feelings towards her were never of that sort.”
“Your family duty! Your lineage! We planned your engagement while you were in your cradles! How can you despise the efforts, wishes, and desires of both your mother and myself?”