Chapter Eight #3
William scarcely had time to return her promises of love and affection before Lady Catherine emerged from the adjoining parlor and entreated him to follow her.
Elizabeth blew him a kiss as he glanced back before hurrying after her terrifying mother.
She led him through a series of enfilade rooms until they reached one that served as a study, and she closed the door briskly before seating herself behind the desk.
She was instantly in command of the room. “Do sit down, sir.”
Something in him was compelled to rebel. “Thank you, Lady Catherine, but I prefer standing.”
The imposing dowager clearly had no wish to stare up at him; she glared with unnerving silence until he sank into the chair across from her. She began her assault at once.
After inquiring about his income and investments, she asked him his age. “I am eight-and-twenty.”
She flinched for a moment, and then frowned, her fingers drumming on the desk. “I was told that you met my nephew Richard seven years ago, after you had just completed your studies at university. Would that not make you nearly thirty?”
“I was sent to Eton a year early, when my guardian’s widow remarried, and from there I went on to begin my education at Cambridge a year younger than all my classmates.”
Lady Catherine appeared unaccountably agitated at this discovery. “That must have put you at a disadvantage.”
“Not at all, your ladyship. My guardian raised me to be fond of reading and to be diligent in all that I apply myself to achieving. I received excellent marks throughout my years of study.”
“Well, I suppose it is of little matter. My girls received a comprehensive education at home, but they were taught accomplishments of value, as I am sure you are aware. Beyond such instruction as this, I believe education produces no effect whatsoever, fortunately – else it would prove a serious danger to the ton, and probably lead to acts of violence in Mayfair.”
He raised brow. “I suppose you may be right.”
This elicited a smug smirk from Lady Catherine. It quickly flickered away and she continued her questioning with stiff posture and an inscrutable expression. “Tell me about your estate, sir.”
“It is located in the southwest of Surrey; ‘tis but an hour’s ride to Guildford, but there is a nearby village that provides adequately for the needs of the estate, which encompasses approximately fifteen hundred acres.”
Lady Catherine nodded appreciatively. “Well, that cannot be fifty miles from Rosings. Excellent.”
“Quite. What is fifty miles of good road? You and your relations shall always be perfectly welcome, madam.”
Lady Catherine grimaced at his goodwill. “And the house?”
“The original manor dates back to the reign of Elizabeth, but much of it has been modernized and expanded. It is a comfortable house, suited for entertaining, and my future bride shall have complete liberty to decorate and act as hostess there as much as she chooses.”
“And what of the grounds, the scenery? My daughter is fond of long rambles about the countryside, and if I have not managed to cure her of this singular enjoyment, no husband ever could.”
“The parkland contains meadows that are in bloom for much of the year, as well as groves, streams, and denser forests. The scattered tenant cottages are all tidy and in good repair, which must augment the picturesque. There is an expansive garden with fountains and follies, and a lake near the back of the property, which is visible from the back side of the manor.”
“That does sound satisfactory. But I suppose you have no house of your own in London? My daughter has developed a taste for town, and will surely wish to spend time as often as possible with her sister and cousins once they are all settled – and surely they shall be often in London. Elizabeth ought to have a proper home of her own here to entertain them, and all the other new friends she has made here.”
“I do not have a house in town,” William admitted.
“However, it has been inclination and not income which has kept me from making such a purchase; as a bachelor I have preferred the society and hospitality of friends, when I come to town. When I am wed, I will be happy to keep a townhouse with my bride, for our privacy and comfort.”
“What a very malleable perspective, sir – that is promising. Now, as regards your family… I understand your parents are no longer living.”
“I have lost both my parents,” William agreed.
But then a pang of guilt struck him, and he added, “I suppose it would be more accurate to say that my parents lost me. I was found by a kind old bachelor named Sir Thomas Grey, who gave me the name of some distant kin that he was fond of. He married a year later, though his wife died several years ago, and so, too, did that lady’s second husband. ”
Lady Catherine held up a hand. “A moment, sir. You were found?”
“Yes, Lady Catherine. Like Elizabeth, I was once a foundling before being taken in by a benefactor of good fortune.”
“My daughter knows exactly who her parents were; her mother was my dearest friend, her father was a gentleman. She is not without family, consequence, and breeding. I cannot imagine what you mean, that you were found. Precisely where did this kind old bachelor find you?”
William forced himself to hold Lady Catherine’s steely gaze as he answered her. “In a handbag.”
She flinched as if he had struck her, and brought one hand up to rest gently against her temples. “A handbag? In what locality were you ensconced within this capacious accessory?”
“At an hotel in London, near Marleybone.”
“At an hotel?”
“Near Marleybone.”
Lady Catherine slammed a hand down on the desk.
“The neighborhood is irrelevant, sir. Can you imagine why a baby, for such you must have been, would have been left in a handbag at an hotel? I can conjure no explanation that could easily be reconciled with a respectable lineage, nor innocent motives. Indeed, every bewildering notion this revelation inspires can only shock and horrify a reasonable person. It seems to me to show a contempt for the decencies of good society, which reminds one of the worst excesses of the French Revolution.”
William clenched the chair, his chest aching with anger and despair.
“Lady Catherine, I can assure you that I was brought up by a baronet of principles and integrity, as well as by a woman of reasonable decency and breeding. I received a privileged education, and have been a diligent master of Wildewood for more than seven years now. I treat my staff and servants very well, I attend church regularly and I am attentive to the less fortunate in my community. I enjoy both quiet country life as well as the diversions of London, making me an ideally suited companion for your daughter; we have many common pursuits and interests, and she will always be well treated and content. She might live in the style to which she is accustomed, often in the company of her sister, the bride of my dearest friend, and settled an easy distance from home. Our daughters would have dowries, our sons would have property or support in a respectable profession of their choosing, as well connections in society as would benefit all our children. I believe this must satisfy your duty and affection to her, your ladyship.”
“You list a great many accomplishments, sir – but I suggest that you endeavor to procure at least one parent, of either sex, before I could ever consider you as a potential husband for my daughter, a girl brought up with the utmost care. I cannot allow her to marry into the perpetual, looming threat of scandal, and form an alliance with a parcel.” Lady Catherine stood and thumped her walking stick on the floor. “Good day, sir.”
***
Two hours later, William was slumped in his chair, in the billiard room at Matlock House, completely foxed.
He swirled the little sliver of brandy remaining in his glass and flicked his gaze over to Richard.
“Do you suppose it likely that Elizabeth shall grow to be like Lady Catherine in about a hundred and fifty years?”
Richard only laughed, but Bingley sat up straighter and leaned against his billiard cue, wearing a lopsided grin. “All women become like their mothers – that is their curse. No man ever does – and that is his curse.”
“Ha!” Richard cried with a clap of his hands that was rather too loud for William’s liking. “Something clever from Bingley! Darcy, we are deep in our cups already. Hmm, that is not quite accurate – but I should just as soon go on calling you Darcy, for it suits you perfectly.”
William smiled sadly, for that was just what Elizabeth had said. Elizabeth, who was lost to him forever! He groaned and finished his brandy. He was considering pouring another when there was a soft tapping at the door. A moment later the door opened, and Elizabeth stepped into the room.
“Cousin Lizzy! You have escaped the dragon! Juliet, come to condole with poor Romeo.”
Elizabeth screwed up her face at Richard. “Please, I have not long – I told Mamma I was returning a book to Miss Darrow. Might I speak privately with Mr. Darcy?”
Richard glanced over at their abandoned game of billiards, and then eyed his brother to earl, who was draped languorously on a divan, in a dubious state of consciousness. “You may.”
She seemed to be waiting for the other men to leave the room, but Richard cocked his head to one side and made a droll face at her. “You can do that by stepping into the adjoining library.”