Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
About one week after Mr Darcy’s departure, Elizabeth was sitting at home with her mother, sisters, and Mr Bingley; Mr Bennet was gone to Hertford for the day on business. Suddenly, Kitty, who was looking out the window and complaining about the lack of activity, cried out.
“The most magnificent carriage is coming up the drive! It is not like the last one, that lady who lives near Charlotte. This one is even bigger and more elegant. Who could it be?” She turned her eager eyes to her family, evidently expecting one of them to offer an explanation.
Elizabeth’s mouth was too dry to speak, and her heart beat wildly in her chest. Might it be one of Mr Darcy’s relations? Might it be the gentleman himself, possibly in a carriage Kitty had not seen before.
“Jane and I were about to…” Mr Bingley said, pointing towards the door. His voice drew Elizabeth’s attention.
“But perhaps we should stay,” Jane added, watching her closely.
She understood they wanted to go into the gardens to be alone for a while; they had indeed mentioned it just minutes ago.
“It is fine,” she said quietly so that only they heard. “Whoever it is, whatever they have to say, I shall be well.”
No one else was paying attention to them.
Kitty and Mrs Bennet were speculating on who their caller was, and Mary was tidying the table at which she had been working.
Elizabeth was aware that she, Mr Bingley, and Jane were assuming the visitor had come to see her.
It was not a surprise that her mother and younger sisters did not; they were ignorant of recent events regarding her, Mr Darcy, and his family.
She swallowed her anxiety, reassured Jane again, and the couple slipped out of the room in time to avoid greeting the caller.
Elizabeth was not sure whom she anticipated would enter the drawing room.
If she had a longer period of reflection, she might have considered the persons involved, but at present, all she could do was push aside the unpleasant memories of her encounter with Lady Catherine at Longbourn and what she had witnessed at Netherfield when that lady and her relations had come to confront Mr Darcy.
I shall remain calm and polite, she vowed, but I shall not accept being mistreated. Courage, Lizzy!
Just then, the Countess of Romsley was announced.
The lady stood by the door, her expensive, fashionable attire a stark contrast to the room’s décor.
Elizabeth had never considered it lacking, but with Lady Romsley there, it appeared worn and faded.
The woman was lovely and must have been one of the most noted beauties of the ton when she had entered society.
Currently, her eyes took in the room, but from what Elizabeth could discern, her gaze was not especially critical.
The countess smiled politely and her expression was open.
“My lady,” Mrs Bennet said, curtseying deeply.
“Girls, girls,” she continued, whispering loudly, her eyes darting between her daughters and their guest, suggesting she was reminding them to mind their manners.
Glancing at her sisters, Elizabeth saw that Kitty was gaping at the countess, and Mary was unable to disguise her curiosity and wariness.
She did not know if they knew of the connexion between Lady Romsley and Mr Darcy, and, naturally, they would have no notion why she might be there.
“Lady Romsley,” Elizabeth said, though she might not have been heard, given how her mother had begun to babble—there was no other word for it—directing the countess to the best chair, talking about refreshments, the weather, and Elizabeth knew not what else.
She was too caught by the woman’s bright blue eyes, which rested on her.
“You are very kind, Mrs Bennet, especially since I have called so unexpectedly,” Lady Romsley said, her voice warm. “You must be wondering why.”
It seldom happened that her mother had nothing to say, but at this moment, she remained silent and stared at her caller, her lips parted.
“Mama,” Elizabeth said, “Lady Romsley is Mr Darcy’s aunt. Her husband is Lady Catherine’s brother.”
“Oh, Lady Catherine!” Mrs Bennet cried, and for a moment spoke about Mr Collins’s connexion to the lady and her being so generous as to bring Elizabeth a letter from Mrs Collins a fortnight earlier.
All the while, Lady Romsley sat and listened attentively, nodding and making the appropriate sounds.
She also glanced at Elizabeth repeatedly.
“Oh, where is the tea?” her mother said, looking about the room as though it might be hiding in a corner. “Mary, ask Mrs Hill. Now, child.”
“While I would certainly enjoy a cup, please do not concern yourself with any delay. Indeed, I have not noticed one at all,” Lady Romsley said. “I wonder if, while we wait, I might have a moment alone with Miss Elizabeth?”
Elizabeth refused to look at her mother and sisters, but she could feel their eyes on her.
Even in the quiet of the room, she heard their enquiries.
What had she to do with the countess? Why would another of Mr Darcy’s relations seek her out?
She stood, regarded the lady, and said, “We might go into the parlour, if that would suit you?”
Lady Romsley agreed, and, pretending not to hear the whispers of Mrs Bennet, Mary, and Kitty, Elizabeth led her into the smaller room that was usually reserved for the family; her mother would fret about a countess seeing the older furnishings, and Elizabeth would have to reassure her while also evading her questions about their conversation.
“Come sit with me,” Lady Romsley said. She went to a faded brocade settee and patted the place next to her.
Elizabeth did as directed, and regarded her steadily, waiting for her to say what she wished.
The lady’s air was almost but not quite serene, which was puzzling.
When Lady Catherine had called, it was evident from the outset that she was displeased and her visit would be a trial, but Elizabeth did not have the same sense with Lady Romsley.
Assuming she had come from town, she must have left extremely early—possibly as the sun was rising.
“You must be wondering why I am here,” the countess said, repeating her earlier words to Mrs Bennet. “I shall explain, though so much has happened this past week, I might need to apologise for not being as eloquent as I would like. I am sure you realise it is about my nephew.”
Seeing that some response was needed, Elizabeth nodded. “I had assumed. I hope he and all of your family are well.” There was a slight tremor in her voice that she hated; it denoted weakness, and she had no wish to display such an emotion at present.
“Oh, yes, everyone is perfectly well. I ought to have said so at once to spare you any anxiety. Are you? The scene at Mr Bingley’s estate last week must have been distressing to you. Am I correct that your mother is unaware of…?”
“She is, and I am well. Thank you for asking, my lady.” Because she was bracing herself for whatever came next, she found it difficult to speak.
Lady Romsley nodded. “Very well. First, let me tell you where we all went and what we did. My husband insisted his sister and niece return to Rosings, and to my surprise, Catherine obeyed him. The earl, Bramwell, and I went to town. My son wishes to marry Miss Rebecca Darcy, the paternal cousin of my nephew. It is not the match we envisioned for Bramwell, but…” She gave a light laugh.
“We had such peaceful lives, the earl and I occasionally speaking of our sons and nephew and their need for wives, and suddenly, we are embroiled in discussions and debates because two of them—I meant to include Fitzwilliam as well, you see, though, fortunately, he has no immediate interest in matrimony—have acted in ways we did not anticipate, shall we say?”
And do you hate your son’s choice as much as your nephew’s? Are you telling him he must marry a lady you have decided upon? Elizabeth would not dare to ask the questions aloud.
“Fitzwilliam went with Darcy to Pemberley. We have had several letters from my nephew. Darcy has been searching through his father’s old papers and speaking to his old friends.
I understand he has also written to the solicitors.
It is all part of his effort to disprove Lady Catherine’s claims that my brother-in-law expected him to marry Anne.
He had a great deal to say about you, as well, and our belief that we can interfere in his life.
The last was directed at the earl, but I must take some of it on myself, because I did try to convince him to set you aside and marry Anne.
Darcy is not entirely wrong that we have no right to tell him what to do, but neither is he entirely correct.
He is part of our family, and what he does affects us.
But I admit the way we have handled the situation was not kind or conducive to rational discussion.
We received a letter from Fitzwilliam yesterday.
He informed us that he and Darcy will soon be in London. I believe Georgiana travels with them.”
The countess paused and studied Elizabeth for a long moment, her head tilted to one side.
“I realised that, as much as we spoke of you, we knew very little about you. To be sure, my sister-in-law spent time with you when you were visiting her parson’s wife.
I ought not to call the man Catherine’s parson, but knowing how she seeks to control everyone near her”—she laughed to herself— “which might be one reason Darcy does not want to marry Anne.”
Yet again not knowing what to say, Elizabeth continued to hold her tongue. She kept her hands tightly clasped in her lap to stop herself from fidgeting; it felt like a horde of little insects was crawling across her back.