~Eleven~
Having chosen to take a hired cab to the fine hotel in which Lady Catherine de Bourgh had ensconced her presence, her nephews quibbled like school boys.
“Why do we do this?” Fitzwilliam inquired with a sigh of exasperation.
“Do what? Come running every time she calls...like dogs?” Darcy finished, knowing the answer, but finding it equally distasteful.
Prior to his marriage, he had merely tolerated the old woman, even indulged her.
Out of pity he supposed, but then, it had not the same effect upon him as now.
His aunt’s constant criticism, particularly of Elizabeth, had worn his tolerance thin, making the breech imposed by his choosing Elizabeth over family opinions, a blessing in disguise.
Even then, he knew it would be brief, for if there was ever one universal truth about his aunt, it was that she could never cease to interfere.
No doubt also pondering this, the Earl of Matlock uttered a low growl, imitating those of Pemberley’s hunting hounds when they caught the scent.
It made for a brief amusement before they need face the cantankerous old girl, and they quickly sobered as the Regency Arms came into view.
Rarely venturing into London anymore, but refusing to do without the smallest luxury, Lady Catherine de Bourgh had taken half a dozen rooms from which to conduct her stay.
Of those, Darcy followed his cousin into a sumptuous parlor to wait.
There, a tall clock ticked away the minutes as Lady Catherine took her leisure in arriving.
“Nearly thirty minutes...I shan’t wait another.
It is beyond rude, even for her,” Fitzwilliam insisted, his countenance taking up a frown that had become far too familiar.
When was the last time he felt happy? With no answer, and despite the time, they waited another ten before a commotion was heard outside the door.
“Now remember your orders and do not dally!” the gentlemen heard, causing worried glances as the door opened.
“Ah, nephews! How good of you to come so soon!” Lady Catherine began, her voice bearing the false gaiety of one ready to make a demand. But just as quickly, the forced smile returned to its usual tight-lipped display of displeasure.
“Lord Matlock! What in heaven’s name are you wearing? Do tell me it is some manner of jest?”
Embarrassed, and for reasons he could not fathom, Fitzwilliam went mute, unable to answer.
Fortunately, Darcy, quick as ever, provided a ready excuse, taking the blame as well.
They had tried to alter some of Darcy’s clothing, but the disparity in physique had made such impossible.
But with promises to have several items ready by the morrow, neither man had been concerned...
until now. It seemed, that much like books, a man was also judged by his coverings.
“It is my fault entirely, Aunt. In his haste to arrive in town, I had my men fetch Matlock’s things, but unfortunately, they fell upon bad weather and the entire wagon was mired in mud. I believe they are still stuck somewhere outside of Leicester.”
“Mud? Leicester? What do I care about that? The Earl of Matlock must be properly attired if he is to be presented anywhere and I have already accepted several engagements on his behalf!”
“It has been addressed, my personal tailor has seen to that, but these things cannot happen in an instant...” Darcy continued, only to be cut off again.
“Hrmph! I suppose it must be tolerated; these rags are still better than that uniform!”
Having regained his tongue, and with it, a measure of anger at the insult to his profession, Richard Fitzwilliam held a hand up to stay any further discussion.
“Whatever engagements you have accepted, I fear you must attend alone. Mrs. Darcy will be seeing to my social calendar, and that, is final. However, if you wish to attend with us as a guest, I am quite sure that can be arranged.”
“Arranged! What does that girl know about arranging anything? It is bad enough that Matlock House was not prepared to receive me, yet another misfortune that requires my hand, and now, you will allow some.... upstart...to take charge of your debut? Are you mad? Your father will be turning in his grave!”
“Perhaps, but it changes nothing. People will talk, no matter what I do, but nor shall I stay in the house where my brother held his debaucheries, have you considered that, Aunt? Matlock house, once properly cleaned, will be sold, for I have no use for a place filled with bad memories. If you find it so agreeable, have your solicitor submit an offer. But until then, I plan to enjoy the hospitality of my cousin and his lovely wife, and whichever event Elizabeth decides to attend, I shall accompany.”
With that final word, the Earl of Matlock departed the room without a backwards glance, leaving a speechless but approving Darcy, to suffer what remained of her ladyship’s displeasure.