Chapter 24
PLANS UNVEILED
Naturally, Darcy had no intention of returning his passengers directly to Longbourn; for one thing, Mr Collins’s carriage was still at Netherfield Park.
For another, he felt they owed Elizabeth more than to abandon her now.
They had travelled perhaps three miles before he spoke, waiting until Mrs Collins was at least no longer crying pitifully.
“Perhaps you are wondering why I would involve myself in a matter that, to all appearances, is none of my business,” he said into the quiet surrounding him.
“I shall attempt to explain. From the very beginning, from the first moment I may almost say, of my acquaintance with her, Fanny Ashwood’s manners impressed me with the fullest belief of her arrogance, her conceit, and her selfish disdain of the feelings of others.
Succeeding observations have built annoyance into a nearly immoveable dislike.
An injustice to one of your family members has been perpetrated almost before our very eyes, and I despise injustice.
Mr John Ashwood was required by law and by honour to provide the dower house for your sister—and to provide it in a liveable condition.
Instead, his wife has been allowed, almost encouraged, to spread her malicious nonsense, without a soul standing up to her. ”
He allowed his words to hang in the air, but then delivered to them a more palatable opinion.
“You are indisputably the leading inhabitants of this neighbourhood. I felt confident that if the Collins-Bennet family truly understood how awful her living situation is, they would see at once that matters cannot stand as they are now.”
“Of course we will not allow it to continue,” Mr Collins said, clearly glad to have an opening to defend himself. “Now that we know her plight, we shall insist she come home to Longbourn.”
“That of course is one option for her.”
Both Mr and Mrs Collins looked at him blankly. “What other option is there?”
“Why, I wonder, should the John Ashwoods be relieved of all responsibility? They have betrayed the Ashwood family name, and many in the community have, thus far, blamed the widowed Mrs Ashwood for their failures.”
“I agree,” Mr Collins said, nodding almost eagerly. “It is not right.”
“Upon my first introduction to the community, Mrs Elizabeth Ashwood was described to me as an eccentric, over-proud female who snatched up a wealthy if elderly husband when her father was dying.”
“That is not true,” Mrs Collins protested immediately. “Papa made her marry Mr Ashwood.”
That is not quite true either, Darcy thought, but since it was not quite false, he let it go in favour of his broader objective.
“I was told,” he continued, “that she was excessively spoilt throughout that marriage, and henceforth refused to share her home with the new mistress of Stoke out of jealous pique. It is said that her aim is to make her relations appear awful in order to force them to build a new, grander home, when all the while she is more than welcome at Stoke, and that Ashwood is put in the position of either caving to her ‘impossible’ demands, or appearing mean before others. These observations are, plainly, the work of her chief detractor, Mrs Fanny Ashwood.”
“It is difficult to believe that Fanny could have said such things,” Mrs Collins objected, although her protest was delivered uncertainly.
“On the contrary, after observing her only briefly, I find it the easiest conclusion to draw,” Darcy challenged. “She simply worked upon you in a different fashion. Come now, you must have heard some of the whispers that have been circulating about her.”
“I have always refused to discuss Lizzy with anyone.”
“Including your mother?”
Mrs Collins looked at her feet. “Mama has always been too severe with Lizzy. She does not mean half of what she says, and I pay little attention to her complaints.”
Darcy held onto his patience with effort.
“Do not you realise that between your mother’s ‘complaints’ and the Ashwoods’ poisonous rumours, it has been far too easy to relegate your sister to the edges of society?
She is barely accepted or thought acceptable, and except for her own inherent goodness, she might already be ostracised by everyone! ”
Mrs Collins looked near to bursting into tears again, and so he plunged ahead.
“Your offer to bring her home to Longbourn is an excellent idea. I only think it best you tell everyone who will listen that you feel terrible about ruining Mrs Ashwood’s independence solely because her husband’s family refused to provide her a watertight home.
My idea is not a grand one. John Ashwood is not impoverished.
He claims to be a gentleman. He can and should repair that house, bring it up to an acceptable standard.
Not only that, but he should repair the adjoining stables, and make a vehicle and coachman available for her use.
Can it have escaped you that she was required to walk to Netherfield to see to your comfort?
That she must beg rides from neighbours? ”
“Oh, but Fanny said…” Mrs Collins began, but she stopped herself mid-sentence, wincing. In a quieter tone, she admitted, “I believe I have taken Fanny at her word much too often. My sister made many sacrifices for old Mr Ashwood. She is owed so much better than this.”
“Why should her family remain silent in the face of such insults?” Darcy asked.
“I, for one, intend to speak of them to anyone who will listen,” Mr Collins announced determinedly. “And many will, do not you think, my darling?”
Mrs Collins lifted her chin. One hand, Darcy noticed, clutched her middle protectively.
“They will,” she said, with more resolve than he had ever expected.
“I will speak to Mama. She will be made to understand that every word out of her mouth will be one of support for Lizzy, and she may henceforth save her criticisms for Fanny Ashwood. If not, she will be moved to the dower house.”
“Longbourn does not have a dower house, my dear,” Mr Collins said, appearing perplexed.
“I know,” Mrs Collins replied firmly. “But Lizzy does.”
From her newly redecorated sitting room, Fanny watched the carriage drive away from Stoke, one question piercing her mind:
Why had they come?
There was nothing remarkable about a visit from a neighbour, of course.
John had been pleased to welcome the trio, but then, John was hardly the most perceptive man ever born.
Something was off, however; it had been clear in the way Jane would not settle—she had seemed nervous, her eyes constantly turned towards Mr Darcy, as if waiting for him to do or say something dreadful.
But why should he? A great man such as he would never disrupt the strictures of protocol.
Indeed, their visit had been precisely the quarter-hour expected, full of polite enquiry, expected compliments, and a discourse upon the weather.
The carriage reached the end of the drive—but then, instead of taking the sweeping lefthand turn towards the main road…it took the right. Why?
There was only one house down that battered and decrepit lane—Eliza’s dower cottage. They were probably fetching some of her belongings, but again, why? If Jane was, more or less, fully recovered, why would her sister need anything more? Would not Eliza be returning to Stoke?
Unless…unless the sisters had, fully, reunited.
It had not seemed to be so when she had visited just a couple of days previous—the rift between them had been obvious, still.
Leave it to that grasping Eliza to throw herself at Jane’s feet, to do and say anything to restore herself to Jane’s good graces.
Fanny had suspected this to be her purpose once she had learnt of Eliza’s departure to Netherfield.
It was infuriating to realise that her enemy would, most likely, soon be ensconced at Longbourn, and probably running the place before the year was out.
Foolish Jane, to give her such power. I warned her, the ninny!
It is not right! Jane is my friend! she raged internally.
How dare she try, again, to abscond with what is mine!
It was all Eliza ever did—take what rightfully belonged to others and keep it all for herself.
She was selfish and spoilt and much prouder than she had any right to be.
Jane, weak creature that she was, had obviously not wished to reveal news of this reunion. It was probably as well that no one had said a word about Eliza Ashwood. I may not have been as temperate as the polite world expects, and told them all exactly what I think of her!
Restless, fuming, Fanny turned away from the window; the room she now faced, however, only filled her with more dissatisfaction.
In striving to erase every bit of Eliza’s taste, which had run to a buttery, creamy palette accented with varying shades of green, she had perhaps gone too far with gilt and scarlet.
John had laughed when he first saw it, saying it looked like the inside of a brothel. She hated it all.
Snatching up the nearby water pitcher, she flung it against the vermilion velvet brocaded wall, where it shattered with a satisfying screech of splintering porcelain. Unfortunately, since it had been half-full, it left an ugly, blotchy, wet stain behind.
This was Eliza’s fault, as well.