Royalty （Lady Catherine）
All who know me will attest that I am well celebrated for my frankness and perspicacity, so I will describe what I saw in the parsonage after being announced by the sulky maidservant who would not last a fortnight in Rosings.
Her announcement entirely lacked the respect it to a person of my August lineage.
She actually sounded aggrieved and sulky, though I cannot imagine anyone in this parsonage having enough people traipsing through to make the slightest difference in her life.
Once I entered the parlour, as is my usual custom, I read the people in the room immediately.
My observational skills are legendary, and I could ascertain the entire contents of the room more easily than a parson reads his Dante at the pulpit.
The room was very oddly arranged, but it was probably the best Mrs Collins could do with little notice, so I could not fault her.
If she planned to continue entertaining in these numbers, we would have to see about getting her more tables and chairs or expanding the parsonage.
I managed to catch a good view of the assemblage before they quite realised who was at the door, and it was very telling…
very telling indeed. As usual, I learned more from that glance of a quarter of a minute than a lesser person would get with a two-hour investigation.
I do not like to boast, but when stating a simple and well agreed conclusion, it is not really hubris.
The first and most hopeful sign I had seen in ages was that Anne looked lovelier than ever.
She had a radiance to her countenance, as if she had been under a cloud for years, and it passed to let in the sun—though, she must then immediately put on a bonnet and erect a parasol to ensure she did not become too brown and coarse.
Anne’s radiant countenance was easy enough to explain!
Darcy looked at her steadily and longingly, with a look of love and adoration in his eyes that I had been waiting years to see.
He even laughed at her witticisms, so apparently the boy had finally, at long last, come to the point.
There could not possibly be two people in the world who could look at each other like that without an understanding, so the fondest hope of my life was about to be realised.
Next, I noticed the older couple who immediately stood from the table for introductions, which were performed with all due ceremony by Anne.
“Mother, please allow me to make known to you my new acquaintances.” She paused as is proper. “Lady Catherine de Bourgh, allow me to introduce Mr and Mrs Gardiner. Mr and Mrs Gardiner, my mother, Lady Catherine de Bourgh.”
“Lady Catherine, it is an honour to make your acquaintance.”
The gentleman bowed very well and properly, and the lady’s curtsey was all elegance and sophistication.
They were of middle years, had a very genteel and condescending manner, were well dressed, and had the manners of the first circle.
They treated me with respect but not deference, so they were obviously landowners of some renown.
I had no idea how they knew the assembled party, and they neglected to mention their estate—probably surmising anyone of sense and education who has lived in the world would recognise their names, just as they would recognise de Bourgh or Darcy.
I was not about to show my ignorance, so I simply paid them the compliment of their station.
They were not titled but certainly of some real consequence in the world, and I would be finding out more about them soon enough.
Next, I noticed Miss Elizabeth Bennet sitting next to my nephew and whispering something in his ear.
There was obviously nothing between the two, now or ever in my presence, that it was clear she had become some type of a confidante to Anne and was now guiding Darcy towards his chosen goal like a skilled sheepdog.
A touch here, a nip there, and the boy would do as was destined.
I had to admire the woman. I had been working on Fitzwilliam for a decade, and she apparently brought him to the point in a single afternoon.
Remarkable! I could use a woman like that.
Perhaps she need not leave immediately. Darcy was not my only problem of the lunkhead variety, and she seemed skilled at moving recalcitrant gentlemen in the right direction, as evidenced by his glances at Anne.
Periwinkle sat next to the most beautiful heiress I have ever seen.
The russet-haired goddess wore a gorgeous dress that was bold, elegant, and obviously of the latest fashion and finest materials.
The gown was between peach and nectarine in colour, though if a well-born person were to argue for vermilion or tangerine, I would not demur.
She showed an abundant and well decorated amount of cleavage, which is only sensible for any woman with the charms to display.
She disdained the current trend for minimisation of lace, and when I saw her feathers, I nearly ran across the room and wrestled her to the ground to steal them—not that I would ever do something so indecorous.
In just the few moments it took before I was properly introduced, the young lady demonstrated she possessed a certain something in her air and manner of walking, the tone of her voice, her address and expressions.
This was a woman I would be proud to call niece, and she practically reeked of a large dowry, so she would do very well for my other nephew. She would do very well indeed.
“Mother, allow me to introduce Miss Caroline Bingley. Miss Bingley, my mother, Lady Catherine de Bourgh”
The young lady was all that was charming and sophisticated.
“I am so very pleased you grant me the honour of making your acquaintance, Lady Catherine. I have been looking forward to the occasion for quite some time. Your sophistication, elegance, and understanding are the stuff of legend among the first circles, and it has been the object of my life for some time to secure an introduction.”
Yes, she would do very nicely for Periwinkle!
Moving my attention to the other two, I had to admit they were the most disagreeable pair of personages I had ever seen.
She certainly did not have the beauty and grace of my Anne or Mrs Collins, or even her sister Miss Elizabeth.
The lady looked like one of those statues of foreigners you see in town—I can never remember which, Greek or Roman or some such—and I could never truly countenance someone who looks so un-English.
She was too tall, too thin, her lips and cheeks were too red, and her hair was too blonde and far too symmetrical.
In short, she had nothing whatsoever to recommend her, and the spinster’s cap was not long in coming.
It was some minutes before I became aware she was another of the infamous Bennet sisters, apparently the eldest, Jane.
The idea that such a reasonable, honourable, and sensible man as Mr Collins might have been shackled with such a creature because I suggested he offer an olive branch filled me with horror.
Narrow escape! That is what that was. Miss Elizabeth seemed to like her sister, but every sister likes her elder sister, even the unattractive ones.
I certainly had esteemed my own sister, Anne, even though she had the poor sense to wed a mere gentleman with the plainest estate in England.
The eldest Miss Bennet was sitting next to another disagreeable man, who much to my surprise was brother to my new favourite Orange Goddess.
The man had nothing to recommend himself, except for his clear abhorrence of the eldest Miss Bennet.
He could barely even look at her, which was sensible enough but not very gentlemanly.
He reeked of the master of a very prosperous estate, and perhaps he was even titled, but everything from his hair to the shine on his boots was anathema to me.
He would be acceptable if he was more handsome, but alas, not everyone is blessed with looks like Mr Collins.
Mrs Collins approached very cordially, and I must say she may well have been the most handsome woman of my acquaintance, and very respectful. There was nothing wanting in that parsonage, I can tell you that.
“Lady Catherine, I fear our poor tables may not meet your standards, but would you care to join us and partake of some tea?”
“I shall be happy to join you, Mrs Collins. I can see you all seem a sensible enough lot, so perhaps I might instruct you on the best way to complete the afternoon.”
That rapscallion Periwinkle was always a troublesome boy, and he showed his mettle by saying, “We were doing well enough before, so I believe we are in no need of instruction Aunt, but you are most welcome to join our conversation.”
I stared at the boy until he wilted under my fierce gaze—though if I am honest, he never did actually wilt.
I sat and prepared to give them instruction, but then I got an idea.
An awful idea! Yes, Lady Catherine de Bourgh got a wonderful, awful idea!
Miss Bennet had brought my recalcitrant nephew either to the point, or very nearly there without my intervention, so I would try something radical; something unprecedented; something I had never tried before. I would remain silent!
I simply sat there and let the youngsters talk among themselves for a full quarter hour, though it nearly killed me. They all eyed me from time to time, probably to see if I was still alive or had collapsed in the chair, but I remained silent.
The silence allowed me to appreciate the wind that had come up dramatically since I made the short carriage ride from Rosings. I noticed rain lashing against the window, but the three gentlemen (well, two gentlemen and that man) stoked the fire and the room was quite cosy.
The servant brought tea, and the look she gave me was more cordial. I doubted it would curdle milk, so it was an improvement over her previous glance out in the entryway.
I was much impressed with the conversation of the young people. Fitzwilliam was chatting with Anne with a lack of reserve that promised much felicity in their married life, and it took an act of iron will to refrain from asking them when the banns would be read.
Miss Elizabeth’s ugly sister gradually seemed to lose her reserve with the unattractive man next to her, and eventually they started talking quietly together while her chair gradually closed the gap between them.
I suspect they were driven more by the constant gentle prodding of her sister and Mrs Gardiner driving her than any real desire to get to know the boy better, but as I said, Elizabeth Bennet is like a sheepdog.
The eldest Miss Bennet seemed to be thawing to the man, as difficult as it must be.
It is nearly impossible to get past such a slight as he had made on her person on the very first day of their acquaintance, though she must admit to not being particularly handsome, so I did not know why she was surprised that the man would call her not handsome enough to dance with.
It was, after all, a simple statement of fact.
The Gardiners continued to show they were fashionable and well educated, and the discourse around the table was quite lively.
Anne told a truncated story that seemed to entirely omit Darcy’s proposal, probably because everyone else around the table already knew about it, or perhaps they were keeping it secret until they obtained my blessing officially; but I could keep my council and wait for her to tell me in private.
She drew some rather undignified laughter with the tale of the front door-bell, which according to her had been nearly worn down to nothing that day, ringing every five minutes.
I was just reflecting on that idea, when that selfsame bell rang—or rather, exploded. The front door slammed open violently, admitting the raging storm, before it slammed shut again as if smote by a giant.