Chapter 9 Noble Relations #2
Still, she strove mightily to keep her voice calm.
“Close to it, my lord. I made two dedicated efforts to escape the match. In the end, my father dragged me in, using tricks little better than what you described, to enforce my acquiescence. Mr Darcy would not even talk to me, so he left no opportunity for alternate solutions, of which, I would have accepted nearly anything.”
Showing he had some temper too, Matlock stamped his foot, shook his finger at her as he might a misbehaving child, and shouted, “Desist, madam! Darcy was there, and he described the entire scene in some detail, not just the last night, but the entire six weeks. I have known him since he was in swaddling clothes, and I will take his word on the matter.”
Matching him tone for tone, but without the foot-stamping and finger-wagging, Elizabeth replied, “His interpretation is wildly off track, your lordship.”
For the first time, Elizabeth wished she were a man, because the insufferable lord really deserved a beating. Instead, she kept trying to rein in her temper, and finally spoke with a contrived, preternatural calmness.
“We can sit here and argue about this all day, my lord, but since you clearly have your minds made up, I will leave you to your preconceptions and just deal with my husband when he returns.”
Matlock’s mouth was set in a grim line as he nodded, not at all certain how this little guttersnipe got him so riled up. He had not lost his temper so thoroughly in quite some time.
Trying to calm down, Elizabeth asked, “May I ask you another question, my lord? Actually, I have two.”
“That is what I am here for.”
Startled, Elizabeth asked, “What do you mean?”
Lady Matlock decided to join the conversation. “We are here to teach you proper manners and accomplishments, so you stand some slim chance of not disgracing our nephew. There seems little chance you will bring any pride to your introduction into society, but we hope to limit the damage.”
Elizabeth stared hard at the hateful woman for half a minute.
“Mr Darcy is a gentleman. I am a gentleman’s daughter.
Socially, we are equal. My husband expressed no reluctance about my deportment or manners, which, as far as I can tell, will raise the standards in this family.
My accomplishments are fine, so you may return home. ”
Matlock snapped, “Not so hasty, if you please. I have by no means done. We have only been in the room ten minutes, and I am already aghast at your impertinence, your wilfulness, your lack of respect for your superiors—”
Getting angrier by the second, Elizabeth snapped, “You have been in my home for less than ten minutes, and you have already accused me of dishonesty, bad manners, and lack of accomplishments—even though neither of you know anything about me—not the very first thing. What do you expect?”
“I expect you to respect your elders and accept help freely offered. I know much more about you and your family than you might think. I hired investigators, and based on their reports, I can only conclude that the entire lot of you should be shunned.”
Elizabeth was livid by then, and she started to speak, but then stopped abruptly, practically biting her tongue.
“This discussion accomplishes nothing! Neither party is likely to change positions, so it is a pointless exercise. May I ask my questions?”
“If you must,” Matlock snapped.
“I have been reading Mr Darcy’s law books.”
Lady Matlock gasped in surprise. “That is not ladylike. Do not ever repeat that statement, and you must desist at once.”
Elizabeth growled. “I will follow my husband’s instructions, if you do not mind. He explicitly specified, in writing, which books are allowed or prohibited. Now, may I get around to my question, if you please?”
“Get to it,” Matlock growled, while Elizabeth thought, this is not going well.
“I read the sections on marriage law carefully. Here is my question. I strongly suspect Mr Darcy is at least considering an annulment. Is this true?”
Lady Matlock gasped, but looked confused, while Lord Matlock looked guilty.
Elizabeth wondered how the aristocracy defined social skills.
Lord Matlock had all the grace and subtlety of a bull.
The couple made Mr Darcy and Miss Bingley seem subtle by comparison.
She suspected the Earl had carried the upper hand in nearly every interaction in his life, and he had either not learned to school his expressions, or more likely, he just could not be bothered, when dealing with someone of such little significance.
She could read the expression on his face, which answered the question handily, but since he did not seem ready to answer verbally, she did so for him.
“I see by your expression that it is under serious consideration, is it not? Your lack of denial would seem a confirmation.”
Matlock nodded, but Elizabeth watched his expression even more carefully than before.
She was nearly as angry as she had been on her wedding day and felt as if she were in battle, or at least, as she imagined such a thing must feel.
Time seemed to slow, and she felt as if she could see every breath. What she saw made her bold.
“Let me guess. It was your idea?”
Matlock grunted. “Do I need to actually answer your questions, or will you just suppose all my answers?”
“Just tell me if I am wrong.”
Matlock paused, and Elizabeth gave him all the time he needed to answer, or as one of the stable hands was fond of saying, she gave him all the rope he needed to hang himself.
“Yes, it was my idea, and Darcy said he would seriously consider it, which I believe he will. If these are the manners he can expect, I would not be in the least surprised. It is expensive, but it would leave him free to choose—better.”
“I can assure you, my lord, that in any situation where my honour and integrity are not being called into question in my own home, my manners are far, far better than Mr Darcy’s on his best day.
If he comes at me with accusations, he will get what he deserves.
If he comes at me from a position of honesty, he will find me far more accommodating. ”
“It is not your place to decide your husband’s deportment,” Lady Matlock snapped.
Elizabeth just shook her head, seeing the utter futility of arguing with the lady, and instead she thought of another expression from the stables: strike while the iron is hot.
“Had you any other helpful suggestions, my lord? Perhaps put me aside? Ship me off to some remote estate? Keep me in the country busy with babies? Have me committed?”
The man was staring at her hard. It was not in the least a friendly stare, but at least it did not seem to presage violence.
He finally growled menacingly, “All are perfectly within his rights, and I would not only support any or all of them, but I suggested most of them. He listened carefully. He was badly used.”
Losing a bit of her iron control, Elizabeth spat out, “Bah! You say that, but you know perfectly well that all Mr Darcy faced was a season of embarrassment. He would be right back to the marriage mart before the start of the next season, or as soon as another scandal came along. I, on the other hand, along with all my sisters, would have been ruined. I do not blame him for being angry about the compromise, but to pretend it was my doing, and so I should take all the punishment, is beyond the pale—even for you.”
Lady Matlock huffed but fortunately held her tongue.
Her husband asked, “What makes you think he leans towards annulment, if I might ask?”
He was obviously still an enemy, and Elizabeth wondered if he was gathering ammunition or genuinely curious.
“Nothing clear, save your admission. There are a few things he said after the wedding, some noticeable and hard-to-explain discrepancies in my marriage lines, some things Mr Knight said, that sort of thing. For example, my middle name is wrong on the marriage lines, which might be used for a claim of fraud. There are a few more things like that. As I understand it, an annulment is difficult and expensive, and the discarded woman is unlikely to ever marry again, but Mr Darcy would recover in a year or two. He would probably be better off, the way you people think.”
Matlock ignored the obvious bait of you people. “Why do you say he would be better off?”
“His reputation would be temporarily sullied, but based on what I have learned about the ton, that would be forgotten in weeks; and he is such an unsocial and taciturn fellow, he would hardly be missed if he absented himself for a season. The expense of the annulment could easily be filled by finding a better-dowered wife. He would end up, a year or two hence, better connected and richer.”
Matlock said, “That is putting the cart before the horse. It sounds like you judge him mercenary, when it seems far likelier you are.”
“I am simply telling you where the evidence points, my lord. Your solicitor would agree.”
Lady Matlock gasped at that idea, but Elizabeth just ignored her.
Matlock said, “I do not appreciate being compared to tradesmen, Mrs Darcy, nor will your husband.”
Elizabeth shrugged resignedly. “That is a shame, my lord. There is about the same amount of goodness or vice in tradesmen as in the gentry or aristocracy, as far as I can tell.”
Lady Matlock looked about to go into spasms like Mrs Bennet, while her husband snapped, “I will not dignify that with an answer.”
Elizabeth shrugged. It was not very elegant, but she was beyond caring. “I suppose that is as expected. It was… ah… interesting to meet you, my lord… my lady. I bid you good day and wish you a pleasant journey.”
Matlock shook his head. “There will be no journey. As my wife informed you, we are here to try to teach you what you need to be an adequate Mrs Darcy.”
Elizabeth barely remembered the earlier assertion, but since she was so blisteringly angry that she wanted to hit something, she thought she could be excused.
“I apologise for any confusion, but I cannot entertain you.”
Lady Matlock gasped again, which was starting to get on the mistress’ nerves, while the Earl stamped his foot again, practically shouting, “Of course you can! Do not be absurd!”
Elizabeth’s head started pounding. “I apologise, my lord. I did not know you were a radical. That explains a great deal.”
“Radical! You make no sense, madam. What do you mean?” he shouted, with a rather unmanly squeak.
She stared the man down and was just about out of patience.
“Only a radical would assert that an uncle’s wishes overrule a husband’s written instructions in his own home.
Mr Darcy did not tell me very much, but what he did say was clear, unambiguous, and in writing. He made no exceptions for relations.”
Matlock thundered, “He did not mean us! He meant the neighbours.”
“I see. So, I should just take your word for it? Tell me, my lord, if Lady Catherine visits, should I ignore my husband’s explicit instructions to follow hers?”
“Absolutely not!” he gasped.
Elizabeth tried to smile, though it came out as more of a grimace. “You see my conundrum. I have clear and explicit instructions and competing suggestions about whether I should follow them or not.”
“You should use your common sense.”
Elizabeth sighed resignedly, tired to the bone of the conversation.
“My lord, my lady, pray, let me be clear. As I surmised and you verified, I am in considerable danger of being cast aside in some thoroughly unpleasant manner. There is little I can do to change the outcome, but what I can do, I will. My husband, should he ever return, may find me unhandsome, he may find me impertinent, he may find me a bluestocking, he may find me insufficiently accomplished. Any or all of these he may discover to his chagrin. What he will not find is that I have been disobedient. If he wants to put me aside, it will be on his own head, not mine. I will follow all his instructions to the letter, and I will not allow anyone to disrupt that.”
Still reeling from her assertion, and unable to believe an insignificant mouse of a country girl was willing to stand up to him, the Earl asked, “How do you propose to learn what you need to know to be a good mistress?”
“I am already a good mistress, but should my husband find me deficient in any way, I will do as he suggests.”
Lady Matlock said, “I truly think you are mad, Mrs Darcy.”
Elizabeth shrugged. “I suppose, if Mr Darcy comes to the same conclusion, he may attempt to have me committed.”
“What do you mean ‘attempt’?”
“I will leave that to your imagination, my lord. I will not go quietly, if it comes to that. Now, if you need to rest before you return, I suggest you apply to Mrs Reynolds just like any other visitor. I will not be around to get in your way, but I repeat—I will not entertain you.”
Both noble relatives looked as if they wanted to argue some more, but Elizabeth saw no real point. The battle had been lost before it started.
“Good day, my lord, my lady.”
Then she gave a curtsey that was precisely what was due someone of their station, turned, and left the room without another word.