Chapter 21
Lady Catherine
After taking her breakfast in her rooms, Lady Catherine tried to think of how she could utilise her time before returning to her beloved daughter.
She would leave Oakhaven soon, but she felt in need of at least one more day of recovery before embarking on another bone-shaking journey—this one even farther, because she was determined to go straight to Rosings.
Of course, all roads led to London, but she would manage to skirt the capital and then continue eastward.
Still, she wished to be useful to the family, or at least to her daughter. The day before, she had accomplished precisely nothing. But perhaps she could do something of importance today.
She considered the plans she had made in the past. It had sounded quite reasonable, in her own head, that if she said that Darcy and Anne would wed often enough, it would happen.
Even after that dreadful, shocking announcement in the newspaper that Darcy had married someone else, it had seemed quite possible to Lady Catherine that she could gather evidence to show to Darcy that proved he had been taken in by a fortune hunter who was unworthy of the Darcy name—and, most importantly, unworthy of the role of mistress of Pemberley.
She had always sensed that Darcy was the most likely family member to be swayed by logic and evidence, and thus she had put all of her efforts into utilising such in order to bend his will to her own ends.
A small part of her mind pointed out that she had not managed to change his mind about anything, ever. But she was busy ignoring that when she heard a knock on the door of her sitting room.
“Enter,” she called.
A moment later, she wished she had not—for it was none other than Darcy’s chit coming through the door.
Her mouth opened in outrage, but shock prevented her from voicing her pique.
“Good morning, Lady Catherine,” the creature said. “I hope you are well today?”
Lady Catherine managed to frown at the girl. Then she said, “Not at all. My body will never be the same, not after that carriage ride!”
The chit cocked her head, scrunched her nose, and smiled. “Oh, yes. So very rough and rutted. Especially Bodmin Moor. I imagine that your journey was even more painful than ours. I suppose that you went more quickly, with fewer stops for enjoying the beauties and ancient sites we passed?”
There was something sympathetic in her expressions, her gestures, her voice. Lady Catherine steeled her spine. She would not be cajoled by this fake display of sympathy.
“May I sit?” the girl asked, her hand turning out towards a chair.
Lady Catherine wanted so dearly to deny her the comfort of sitting, but it seemed impossible, so she grudgingly nodded.
“Obviously,” the adventuress went on, “this is no longer a house owned by the Darcys, so I am not your hostess, but is there anything I can arrange for your comfort?”
“You could leave the nation. That would make me feel better!”
The creature’s response startled her—she laughed. It was a more merry sound than she would have thought possible, given their relative positions. It was as if the girl was not even a little bit anxious about Lady Catherine’s disapprobation.
The little hussy leant forward with another smile and sparkling eyes, and she said, “Did you know, my lady, that I like to have my way just as much as you like to have yours?”
Lady Catherine straightened and sniffed.
“I suspect all people feel the same way,” the girl went on. “I do not think everyone manages to get their way as often as you do, though. So, well done.”
“Pray allow me to assure you,” Lady Catherine said, putting extra frost on her cold voice, “I have not gotten my own way in an enormously important matter of late, and therefore I do not feel the least bit positive about your mentioning such.”
“Oh, yes, I understand that, my lady. I know most of your thoughts and almost the entirety of your feelings are driven by your love for your family, and most particularly your love for your dear daughter. I could never be puzzled by your motivation, and believe me, it does you credit. I have not yet met Miss de Bourgh, although everything I hear sounds quite wonderful. Could you tell me more about her?”
Lady Catherine sniffed again, but she began to speak. She emphasised all the ways in which Anne was superior in breeding and…well, looking at the lovely lady before her, it was hard to expound on very many ways in which Anne was superior, but of course blood did count for a lot, and….
It was hard to hold onto her anger as Darcy’s choice asked very apt questions and made appropriately impressed comments.
Lady Catherine was happy that the Elizabeth creature did not ask about Anne’s health, because her daughter’s infirmity was the greatest burden of her life.
She had to admit that the girl before her seemed incredibly healthy.
Stronger, younger, more lively. It was so very unfair!
But the girl asked about Lady Anne, and then she asked about Rosings, and Lady Catherine was able to speak at length on every one of her favourite topics.
Someone arrived with tea and biscuits—and the girl politely asked the servant to get word to “Mr Darcy” about her safety and whereabouts, which certainly showed some sense, some caring for the feelings of others—and then the girl politely and capably poured out tea—and still Lady Catherine spoke on and on, answering questions, relating anecdotes, imparting wisdom… .