Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Although Darcy’s inclination was to follow Elizabeth from the room and apologise for his family’s unconscionable behaviour, he did not. Instead, he glared at his uncle and aunts in turn, overlooking the combined expressions of sympathy and amusement on his male cousins’ faces and Anne’s sniffling.
Lady Catherine expressed satisfaction that Elizabeth was gone, adding, “Without her disruptive presence, we can turn our minds to more important matters. You and Anne will be married from Rosings, as is appropriate. It is her home, after all.”
“Anne and I will not be married anywhere,” Darcy stated, wondering if he was going mad.
Or perhaps he had suffered a grave injury that had left him unconscious, capable of hearing people speaking about him but unable to voice his responses.
Surely there must be some extraordinary explanation for why they did not understand his refusal.
“Do you think Mr Bingley minds us invading his house in this manner?” Bramwell said.
The non sequitur caused everyone to look in his direction, which was likely his cousin’s purpose in speaking.
Bramwell affected a large yawn. That, in itself, was not too rude—for him, at least—but the pointed way he was regarding Lady Catherine was a bit much.
“Bramwell, that is enough,” Lord Romsley said, while at the same time, Lady Romsley said, “Oh, Bramwell, now is not the moment for your levity.”
“My brother does raise an interesting point, however,” Fitzwilliam remarked. “We have arrived without notice, and it is hardly the thing to take over the principal room of another man’s house to sort out family affairs.”
“We shall not remain,” Lady Catherine said. “Darcy, order your man to pack your things. We shall depart for Rosings as soon as it is done.”
Darcy gaped at her. What had he ever done since becoming an adult to make her believe he would obey her demands?
Raising his voice slightly, he said, “I am not going to Kent. Indeed, after how you spoke to me in London and your behaviour today, I can assure you, your ladyship, that it will be a very long time before I set foot inside Rosings again. If I ever do!”
“Do not be ridiculous,” she retorted. Behind her voice, Darcy heard both the earl’s and countess’s, though he was not sure what they said.
“You will be master of Rosings, just as your parents and Sir Lewis and I intended. Naturally, you must spend a good part of the year there to ensure it is properly managed. It is your duty, both to the estate and your second son, who will inherit it. We shall divide our time thus. Four months in Derbyshire, four months in Kent, and four months in town and visiting others.”
We? he silently thought. Did the woman expect to accompany Anne and her husband wherever they went?
If she did, she was mad. What man always wanted his mother-in-law nearby?
Not that she will ever hold that position in my life.
Anne would never be his wife. The only lady he would ever make Mrs Darcy was Elizabeth.
Although he had resolved such before this morning, each word his aunt spoke added to his determination and reminded him why Elizabeth was the perfect lady for him.
Taking a fortifying breath, Darcy said, “I am growing fatigued of repeating myself. I shall not waste my breath telling you what you ought to know already. The only people travelling to Kent today are you, Lady Catherine, and your daughter. I shall have your carriage—”
“Not so hasty!” she interjected.
“Enough,” the earl said. Darcy suspected he had used the word more today than he usually did in a month.
“Netherfield is not the best venue for discussing such an important family matter. We shall go to town. There, we can sort this out. Catherine, your demands are only antagonising my nephew. Once we are in London, I shall speak to him, and since he is a reasonable man—and I know my sister and brother-in-law raised him to respect his heritage—he will accept his duty and live up to the promises he made his cousin.”
Dear Lord, please let me wake up now! Darcy screamed to himself.
He pressed his eyes closed, willing himself to believe that when he opened them, his family would have disappeared.
Unfortunately, they had not. Fitzwilliam’s expression had grown more apologetic—even though he had done nothing to require an apology, as far as Darcy knew—and sympathetic, while his brother’s features now suggested more irritation than amusement.
Anne continued to dab at her nose, now and again looking about her as if she had no notion where she was or why.
His three older relations stared at him, appearing to await his next words.
“I refuse to continue this conversation. Prepare to depart. I will not be going with you.”
Lady Catherine’s voice was like ice. “You will do as I say, or I shall not only ruin you, I shall ruin that chit and her family.”
“Your union to her is impossible,” the earl added. “Give up the notion or face the consequences.”
Fury roared in Darcy’s ears, masking whatever his uncle and aunts were saying; he knew they spoke by the motion of their lips.
He wanted to scream, to lambast them fiercely for destroying the beautiful moment he and Elizabeth had been on the point of having, and for their indefensible actions and lack of respect for her and for him.
Even after the dispute was resolved, his connexion to them would be damaged, perhaps forever.
Bramwell strode towards him, soon closing the distance.
He grabbed Darcy’s arm and pulled him to the door, saying, “I think that is quite enough for the moment. No one, not even our aunt, wants to see the family torn to bits and tossed in the rubbish heap, as it surely will be if we do not all cool our tempers before continuing the discussion.”
Darcy sensed Fitzwilliam behind them, but did not turn to look at him. Rather, he pulled his arm from Bramwell’s and immediately sought the door that led to the gardens.
The stone bench on which Elizabeth presently sat still retained some of the chill from the previous night.
She wished Mr Bingley’s carriage would soon make an appearance so that she and Jane might return to Longbourn.
Her sister and Mr Bingley stood a little way away, speaking earnestly and glancing at her repeatedly.
Neither of them had known that Elizabeth and Mr Darcy were…
well, that they were anything other than indifferent acquaintances.
The strangest sensations battled inside of her, and it left her dizzy and nauseous.
It had begun in the Netherfield drawing room and must be a combination of shock, confusion, and devastation.
At the moment, she could not make sense of what had happened.
Was there some proof that Mr Darcy—her Mr Darcy—was, in fact, bound to his cousin Miss de Bourgh?
But then, if it were so, he would not be her Mr Darcy; he would just be Mr Darcy, her soon-to-be brother’s dearest friend.
“Just a few more seconds and I would have accepted his proposal,” she softly murmured, her lips barely moving.
Would it have made a difference? Could it have been used to stop his family’s insistence that he was obligated to marry Miss de Bourgh?
She doubted it, not when there had been no announcement, not even an application for her father’s consent.
Before long, she decided to join her sister, anticipating the carriage would soon be there. She stopped some steps away from the lately-engaged couple.
When Jane noticed her, she started and cried, “Oh, Lizzy, I did not see—” She blushed and glanced at Mr Bingley, her expression begging his assistance in dealing with the awkward scene.
Heat crept into Elizabeth’s cheeks, and suddenly, she wished she had confided in Jane, been more open about what had taken place in Lambton, from seeing the Bingleys and Darcys and, crucially, of her changing feelings for Mr Darcy.
And how I cried bitter tears the last morning I saw him there, for poor, stupid Lydia, the possible devastating consequences for our family, and because I knew then that I loved him and had lost his good opinion forever.
Or so she had thought until this very day when he had once again proposed.
Fortunately, she was not required to speak immediately.
The carriage arrived, and Elizabeth almost leapt inside as soon as the steps were lowered.
She was eager to be home again so that she might be alone.
Mr Bingley took a seat opposite her and Jane, the first indication she had that he intended to go to Longbourn with them.
Once on their way for the short journey, she sensed Jane’s eyes on her, but she kept her own gaze firmly fixed on the view from the window.
Attempting not to draw her sister’s notice, Elizabeth surreptitiously shook her head, hoping to dispel a portion of her bafflement.
She wanted, needed, to think rationally, to make sense of what she had witnessed at Netherfield, but that was impossible when what she most felt was that her heart had been ripped from her body.
She had experienced something akin to this when she had said goodbye to Mr Darcy in Lambton after telling him about the news she had just received, but this was much, much worse because she had only just allowed herself to accept how deeply she loved him, how essential he was to her happiness, and that he felt the same about her when he proposed earlier this morning.
Mr Bingley broke the silence, saying, “I thought I ought to accompany you. It seemed best to give Darcy and his relations a little time to…” He chuckled awkwardly and looked at Jane, likely hoping she knew what to say to Elizabeth.