CHAPTER 6 – Thunderstruck #2
Despite the storm’s implacability and the day’s earlier misfortunes, Lady Catherine’s guests were assembled at the dining table.
The Collinses, Miss Lucas, Elizabeth, and Lady Catherine’s nephews and daughter sat before half-eaten plates, their expressions betraying their distaste at being forced to share the meal with her ladyship.
No one spoke, despite Lady Catherine’s persistent attempts to initiate conversation.
Miss de Bourgh was especially silent, hunched on her seat, her face flushed and eyes swollen, wiping away an occasional tear.
A hollowness gripped Elizabeth’s chest, not from the silence itself, but from the burden of so many dark looks and troubled faces.
She could spare some sympathy for her friends, and perhaps a little for Miss de Bourgh, yet the rest were, to her mind, people wholly unconnected with her.
Why should she be made to sit here, sharing in their discomfort, as though their discontent were hers to bear?
Her Welsh adventure had taken a most disagreeable turn, far from the cheerful visit she had once envisioned.
If only she could leave this wretched island and return home!
“You are dreadfully dull this evening, Miss Bennet. Do not tell me you are so easily frightened by a thunderstorm.” Lady Catherine regarded Elizabeth with a disdainful smirk.
“No, madam. I was merely concerned about the injured servant. Is he faring any better?”
“What happens to him is none of my concern, Miss Bennet. Nor is it yours. A lady of good breeding should not trouble herself with such matters.”
“He has not yet regained consciousness, though he appears to be resting peacefully,” said Mr. Darcy. “We all hope that he improves soon.”
“Thank you, sir.”
With a clear disinterest in the subject, Lady Catherine waved her hand and turned to her daughter.
“Anne, why are you not eating?”
“I am not hungry, Mother.”
“Cry all you want; you know your duty. I shall not change my mind. Now eat! Food should not be wasted.”
The “duty” to which Lady Catherine alluded needed no explanation.
No one at the table could plead ignorance of an altercation before dinner in Lady Catherine’s private room; their voices had carried for all the others to hear as they dressed for dinner.
Pretending not to listen had been both impossible and mortifying.
Miss de Bourgh’s shrill protests of You cannot make me!
I shall never marry him! left little to guess at.
When she burst out moments later, shouting, I hate you, Mother!
I would rather die than marry him! before fleeing to her chamber, the truth was unmistakable: Lady Catherine had issued an ultimatum.
Miss de Bourgh was to marry her cousin, Mr. Darcy, whether she wished it or not.
Sympathy tightened in Elizabeth’s bosom for the young lady who was denied any choice in the matter and, reluctantly, for Mr. Darcy as well.
However little she esteemed him, no one deserved to be made the object of such a public scene.
Yet he bore the disruption without protest, as if humiliation was a price he had long since resigned himself to pay.
What power did Lady Catherine wield over a gentleman of such fortune and consequence that would make him bend to her will so meekly?
At least her own father had allowed her to refuse Mr. Collins—he had never sought to force her into a match, nor exerted such dominion over her future.
Mr. Darcy, however, did not even attempt to stand his ground.
Another course was served—one that no one save Lady Catherine actually tasted. Shortly thereafter, the party moved to the drawing room, where coffee and tea was offered. Yet the evening was far from over.
The gathering proved dull and uninviting. Conversation languished; no card tables had been set to provide even the smallest diversion. Although coffee circulated, Lady Catherine, as was her custom, indulged in her favourite beverage—a bottle of well-aged Spanish sherry.
After three full glasses, her ladyship rose with a sudden purpose. “Come, Darcy, we must speak in private.”
The gentleman stood, tugging at his tailcoat and following her with a sour expression. Elizabeth’s gaze lingered on him, baffled that a man so plainly displeased would yield so readily to his aunt’s summons.
The others remained quietly dispersed around the room.
Elizabeth sat by a spray of candles, her book forgotten on her lap; Charlotte and her husband reclined on a sofa across from her.
Maria had joined Miss de Bourgh on a loveseat, and the two young ladies conversed in hushed tones.
Only the colonel stood by the fireplace, one arm resting on the mantel as he gazed pensively into the fire.
“Anne, dearest,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said to his cousin a moment later, gesturing towards the small clavichord. “Would you play something for us? I am sure it will cheer you up. I shall turn the pages for you.”
“I do not have my music with me—I left the books in the music room.”
“Surely there is some song you remember.”
“I do not, but I can retrieve my music if you wish.”
“Do not trouble yourself, Miss de Bourgh. I shall go fetch them,” Elizabeth rose from her chair, eager for a brief respite from the room.
“Do you know the way?” enquired the colonel.
“Yes, sir.”
Elizabeth proceeded towards the music room—a space she had visited only once before but was not far. Although dark, the room was faintly illuminated by light filtering in from the nearby gallery, allowing her to find the pianoforte and Miss de Bourgh’s music.
Muffled sounds emanated from an adjoining sitting room. Elizabeth immediately recognized the elevated voices. Lady Catherine and Mr. Darcy were engaged in a heated discussion. Curiosity overcame propriety, and she edged closer to the slightly ajar door, which allowed her to hear them with clarity.
“. . . I shall repeat it one last time: The match you presume to pursue will never occur. I shall not marry my cousin—ever,” Mr. Darcy said, emphasizing each word.
“This is intolerable!” Lady Catherine was quite affronted. “This marriage has been planned since your birth. You and Anne are destined for each other. By refusing to fulfil your duty, you will not only be denying my sister’s—your dear mother’s—wishes but also mine.”
“I am sorry, but neither Anne’s opinion nor mine has ever been considered. Neither duty nor desire binds us together.”
“What you and Anne feel matters little. Decorum, prudence, and indeed, mutual interest, demand this union. You both hail from noble maternal lines, with splendid fortunes on both sides. Such considerations are more than sufficient.”
“Not to me. As you yourself acknowledged, I am a man of fortune, and that affords me the liberty to live as I choose.”
“You leave me no choice, nephew.” Lady Catherine’s tone sharpened. “Since your arrival, I have been patient. I had hoped you would find reason without further persuasion. But you force my hand.”
With her heart pounding, Elizabeth edged closer to catch a glimpse of the unfolding scene. Through the narrow gap in the door, Mr. Darcy’s back was visible, as well as Lady Catherine circling him. She should not be eavesdropping, yet she could not tear herself away.
“What happened at Ramsgate should never have occurred,” said Lady Catherine.
“Your failures in managing your sister’s affairs nearly ruined her reputation—and the entire family’s as well!
So reckless was her conduct—and with a man so far beneath her, so wholly unworthy of her station!
And such ineptitude on your part! I know well of your dealings with Georgiana’s lover, and of the sum you paid that scoundrel to keep the matter undisclosed.
Refuse to indulge me, and all your efforts to keep it quiet will be for nothing. ”
“So you resort to threat and coercion—how noble of you.” Mr. Darcy scoffed.
“No method is dishonourable when the purpose is just.”
The gentleman shifted slightly, prompting Elizabeth to retreat from his view.
“I never imagined you capable of such selfishness, such greed,” he said. “Is this truly what you desire? To sacrifice your daughter’s happiness, to ruin your niece’s life, merely to satisfy your ambition?”
“Sacrifice? It will be for the benefit of all! Consider the possibilities this marriage presents. Your fortunes combined will surpass all expectations. It will be an empire within an empire. The compensation will be so substantial, it will silence any scruples you may harbour about allying with her.”
“If you believe that I can be swayed by such considerations, you are gravely mistaken about my character.”
“I know you better than you imagine, Darcy. You will do anything to protect your name and honour. The price to pay will be exorbitant. Are you willing to forfeit your power and respectability merely to preserve your freedom?”
“I need not choose. Regardless what you allege about Georgiana and me, I shall deny it.”
“You could do so, but you will not be able to refute the letters she wrote to that rascal, nor her plans to elope with him to Gretna Green.”
Elizabeth’s breath caught, a faint gasp escaping before she could stop it; she pressed a hand to her mouth at once.
Her ladyship went on. “Georgiana was foolish enough to leave written proof of her dealings, and that evidence, dear nephew, is now in my possession. I shall use it, should you persist in defying me. My influence is greater than you imagine. Once this affair becomes public, your guardianship over your sister will be revoked. With my connections, I can easily see you replaced, and all control over your sister’s future will rest entirely in my hands. ”
“Fitzwilliam is also her guardian. He will never agree to that.”
Lady Catherine laughed. “You give him too much credit. He lacks your scruples—and your financial independence. He would do whatever it takes to acquire wealth. I can find him a rich bride eager to forge a connection with the Fitzwilliams of Matlock. That would remove him from my path—and Anne’s.
Her fixation on him is becoming increasingly troublesome.
I shall not allow it to escalate further. ”
“You believe you can manipulate everyone at your whim, but you are not as powerful as you presume. This scandal will tarnish you as well.”
“My reputation is impeccable, and I shall be the only one capable of rectifying this situation. Once Georgiana is under my guidance, I shall control her fortune and education. Finding her a suitable husband will be effortless. That will accomplish two aims at once: your name will be forever sullied, and your sister’s fortune will pass to someone of my choosing. ”
A deafening thunderclap echoed through the rooms, drowning out any further reply.
The meeting had abruptly ended, and fearing discovery, Elizabeth quickly hid behind the door as Mr. Darcy departed with an ungentlemanlike curse.
Disturbed by what she had overheard, she hurried back to the drawing room where the others awaited.