Chapter 14
Inconvenient Summons
“Eliza, are you feeling unwell?”
Elizabeth looked up, startled. Her eyes fixed on Charlotte. All the inhabitants of the parsonage were currently at the dinner table, enjoying a modest but elegant spread.
“I am well.”
“You seem distracted, Cousin Elizabeth,” Mr. Collins said, peering at her from his seat at the head of the table.
Elizabeth smiled blandly at him. She was in no mood to have him pry into her life.
“I was simply enjoying the wonderful dinner, Mr. Collins.” She glanced at her plate. There was a cut of beef and seasoned potatoes on it. “The potatoes are… very good.”
Mr. Collins puffed up with pride immediately and nodded.
“Lady Catherine personally recommended Mrs. Potts to me,” he said. “And what a delight she has been to Charlotte and me! Did I tell you about…”
Elizabeth nodded at all the appropriate places as Mr. Collins went into a lengthy monologue about chefs and cooks named after kitchen utensils and ingredients, and how the chef at Rosings was a “Monsieur Barbeau” who was known for his smoked salmon and breakfast kippers.
Much like “Mrs. Potts” who was known for her pot roasts.
Lady Catherine—as it turned out—was quite fond of having servants with names that echoed the position they held.
But she stopped listening after a while. It was the third time Mr. Collins had told them that particular story about his kitchen staff.
Her mind was fixed, instead, on the second disappearance of Mr. Darcy. She was beginning to really worry…
Knock!
Knock!
Knock!
Elizabeth startled out of her reverie as loud sounds of knocking reached them in the dining room from the front of the house.
“Who might it be at this time!?!”
Mr. Collins got out of his chair with a grunt. A sour pucker on his lips. They could hear the door being unlatched downstairs.
“That must be Janet,” Charlotte said, quickly following after her husband as he left the room.
Maria shared a glance with Elizabeth. Eyes wide.
“Do you think it is from Rosings?”
“I do not know,” Elizabeth said, equally stunned.
Both of them hurried out of the room as well.
It was Lady Catherine.
…or rather, an urgent summons to Rosings.
“Her ladyship would like all of us to join her…” Mr. Collins said, reading the missive that had come from the great house. “For dinner!” He looked up, surprised, and handed the note to Charlotte.
“Something must have happened, Charlotte! I must dress at once! Lady Catherine has need of me.”
In what Elizabeth could only describe as an alarming display of dexterity from a man of such plodding proportions, Mr. Collins was out of the corridor—and then the house—in under ten minutes. All while the women were still arranging for their unfinished dinner to be removed.
On his way out, though, Mr. Collins urged them—in what had to be the shrillest voice Elizabeth had ever heard from him—to hurry and not keep her ladyship waiting. She sighed.
“Are you truly well, Eliza?”
Charlotte stopped her with a hand on her arm as she was about to make her way to the stairs.
“You look rather pale. If you wish to stay back, I can tell her ladyship you have a megrim.”
Elizabeth gave her friend a wane smile.
“I am well, Charlotte. Thank you for asking. But I would very much like to know what the urgent news is.”
“As would I!” Maria announced, coming to a stop next to her sister. She had been at the window moments ago, watching Mr. Collins’ departure. “I wonder if it has anything to do with Mr. Darcy.”
Charlotte fixed a piercing look on Elizabeth. “Yes, I wonder the same.”
Elizabeth kept her face as bland as she could.
“I believe we should dress if we do not wish to incur her ladyship’s wrath.”
“Yes,” Maria said, unmindful of the sudden tension. “I hope the carriage is sent back. I do not want to walk that far.”
The carriage was not sent back.
Elizabeth stared at the patterns on the Persian carpet where the hem of her dress lay haphazardly. The intricate red and brown floral design clashed ostentatiously with the light green cotton of her visiting dress. Too simple. Too plain. She sipped her tea.
“Mr. Collins, I am displeased! I am very displeased!”
Lady Catherine struck the carpeted floor on her side of the parlour with the blunt end of her walking staff.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
“I have the most ungrateful and undutiful nephews in all of England!”
Elizabeth looked up as Miss de Bourgh coughed from her usual seat near the fireplace. Jenkinson was scurrying around her—as was usual too—adjusting the enormous shawls wrapped around her petite frame. And then the woman adjusted the fire screen for the tenth time.
“I sympathize with your ladyship,” Mr. Collins said, nodding emphatically. “It is life’s greatest sorrows when one’s kin disabuses one of the sanctity of house and home, and familial bonds.”
Elizabeth eyed the fire screen next to Miss de Bourgh. It had an intricate pattern of mourning doves and sparrows, nestled in abundant foliage, with gilded flourishes everywhere. It was just as ostentatious as everything else in Rosings.
“Yes, yes, Mr. Collins,” Lady Catherine said impatiently. “But I have not given up on my wishes. I will have my way!”
She thumped her staff on the carpet again, startling Jenkinson who had only just returned to her seat and was about to take a sip of tea. The cup rattled on the saucer for a moment before Jenkinson froze.
“I have sent my men to follow Richard’s man in secret. I must discover where he has Darcy holed up,” Lady Catherine continued.
She watched as Jenkinson almost sighed in relief and finally had some tea. Elizabeth wished to breathe out a deep sigh of frustration as well.
Ever since they had arrived at Rosings, it had become apparent to all what Lady Catherine’s primary object had been behind sending the urgent summons.
She had received a rather flimsy missive from her other nephew—The Honourable Harold Fitzwilliam, first son and heir of the Earl of Matlock (Lady Catherine’s younger brother)—which contained scarce news of Mr. Darcy’s health and recovery, and nothing of actual import that the lady wished to know. She was livid.
“Your astuteness is admirable as always, your ladyship,” Mr. Collins said.
Of course, Mr. Collins was ever eager to please his patroness. But Elizabeth wished the rest of them had not been drawn into her vortex of indignation.
“I shall have Anne ready in the carriage the minute I know where Darcy is!” Lady Catherine said. “You, of course, must come with us, Mr. Collins. I shall have you officiate the wedding.”
“I am ever your humble servant,” Mr. Collins said, bowing from his seat in the ridiculous manner he always did. It almost upset the cup in his hand.
Elizabeth almost gave in to her urge to sigh.
The news of Mr. Darcy had been insubstantial enough to both increase her worries over his sudden disappearance and also calm them. She was divided in her mind.
She only wished Lady Catherine would request dinner soon so they might—she might!—return to the parsonage.