Chapter 12 #3
Just then the door opened, and a servant entered announcing the arrival of a Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr Darcy.
Elizabeth’s heart galloped, and sped up even more when Mr Darcy walked into the drawing room. Another man had entered with him, but Elizabeth hardly noticed. Mr Darcy met her eyes and lingered a moment longer than was proper, but kept his face otherwise neutral.
All rose to greet the guests, and Lady Catherine spoke with the most effusion.
“My dear nephews! We did not expect you until tomorrow.” Before they could offer an explanation, she turned to the others and said, “May I introduce you to Mr and Mrs Collins and her sister, Miss Elizabeth Bennet? This is Colonel Fitzwilliam, my brother’s son, and Mr D—”
“We have met,” Mr Darcy said, his voice notably tense. “You sent me to the wedding, as you might recall.”
“Yes,” snapped Lady Catherine, presumably unaccustomed to being interrupted, “but your cousin was not there. I assume he requires an introduction?”
Colonel Fitzwilliam, not a handsome man, but tall and with a kindly face, said, “Yes, Aunt, please proceed as I have not yet met those in your company.” He offered a wink to Mr Darcy that only Mr Darcy and Elizabeth, from her angle in the room, could see, and Mr Darcy sniffed.
She could not tell if it was a stifled laugh or irritation, for his face remained stony.
Introductions were made, bows and curtseys performed, and all were invited to sit.
“How are you early, gentlemen?” Lady Catherine asked, with unhidden irritation.
“Georgiana left for Ramsgate this afternoon,” explained Mr Darcy, “and it was a choice between a ball and arriving early to see you.”
“And you chose me? I do not believe it for a second.”
“Dear Aunt,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam, “you are far preferable to the crowded entertainments of a ball.”
“Now I know you are lying,” said Lady Catherine, “for your reputation is of one who enjoys festivities of all sorts.”
Elizabeth suspected it had been upon Mr Darcy’s urging that they had fled London. For a moment she thought it might have been to see her, but then Mr Darcy said, “We were unaware that you were expecting guests or we should not have intruded.”
“It is no intrusion, sir,” said Mr Collins. “It is the highest honour to be in your company, and to have you finish what has already been an evening filled with delights.”
After the gentlemen were seated, Lady Catherine turned to the colonel and said, “Have you enjoyed your travels before you are set to return to your service?” Colonel Fitzwilliam nodded, but before he could add any details, she asked, “And Fitzwilliam, you did not find Georgiana’s school satisfactory? Why did you remove her?”
“She asked to leave.”
“It is imperative that young people’s pleas be ignored, especially when their complaints are regarding educational establishments.”
Mr Darcy’s face darkened, but it was Colonel Fitzwilliam who spoke.
“Dear Aunt, he and I agreed that it was best for her to be in London with Mrs Younge, her new chaperone, and in the company of fine families and other young women in preparation for her come out. The school was satisfactory, but when out of session, Georgiana was lonely and the education had, shall we say, run its course.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning,” said Mr Darcy, his voice lacking the deference of his cousin’s, “there was nothing left for her to learn from those half-wits who posed as teachers. She is better off in a city of culture where she might visit museums and see the great masters, as well as attend operas and lectures.”
Lady Catherine sat a moment, her face sour, but then she nodded. “My niece does require a broader education.” She turned to Elizabeth. “Did your mother send you to town for the benefit of such culture?”
“My mother would miss us too dearly, and my father hates town.”
She turned on Mary. “And what of your governess?”
Elizabeth could not allow her sister to take her Ladyship’s barbs, so she intervened, answered another series of intrusive questions, stifling her sighs and thinking it might be best to return to the Parsonage.
Then she decided against departing, for if she endured, she might be able to speak with Mr Darcy.
Lady Catherine was expressing her views on the virtues of a governess, and seemed to be alluding to the Bennets being so impoverished that Elizabeth ought to be sent to work as one. “It is wonderful how many families I have been the means of supplying in that way. Miss Elizabeth, I could—”
“Georgiana,” Mr Darcy interrupted, and again, Lady Catherine appeared vexed. Nevertheless, her nephew continued, “was elated by the opportunity to see the sea after so many months in London. Upon my cousin’s return to his service, I shall visit with her.”
“I do not like Ramsgate,” said Lady Catherine. “I prefer Bath.”
“Yes, but Georgiana longed to see the sea.”
Lady Catherine pursed her lips at Mr Darcy. “You have grown quite contrary, Fitzwilliam.”
“I have become the head of a household, my dear aunt.” He rose, took her hand in his and kissed it, at which she blushed. “Sometimes the worries of it set my mind in a contrary place.”
“My poor sister and your father both passed when you were so young.” She patted his hand and released it.
As he returned to his seat, she said, “The burdens of overseeing Rosings after my husband’s passing, rest his soul, have been enormous, but you do not see me bitter or sour.
All in positions of authority must strive to be as generous and friendly as I am.
” She turned to Mary and Mr Collins. “Why, just the other week I came to the Parsonage and offered advice on curtains, did I not?”
“And what curtains they are!” exclaimed Mr Collins.
Elizabeth took the subsequent discussion of curtain width and materials as an opportunity to look at Mr Darcy, and when she did, their eyes met.
He had been looking at her! Her breath caught.
She resisted the urge to smile lest someone was watching, and then looked away, much as it pained her, for the same reason.
All she wanted was to be alone with him.
Miss de Bourgh, whom Elizabeth nearly forgot was in the room, yawned, and that was all that was required for Lady Catherine to bring the evening to a close.
Servants were hastily dispatched and all rose to take their leave.
As they moved to the door, Elizabeth felt a hand on hers.
Without looking, she knew it was Mr Darcy.
She would not, should not, turn to face him lest others notice, and he let go.
He allowed the others to walk ahead. She squeezed his hand, and he tugged her to a stop.
Still, she kept her gaze straight ahead, and felt him lean close.
He whispered, “I will call at the Parsonage tomorrow.”
He let go and she attempted to walk steadily to where servants were waiting with coats. Once hers was on, she turned to her hosts. Mr Darcy’s face was stone, and she marvelled at his ability to act as though nothing had transpired. She knew her colour was high and her breath still short.
“Thank you, Lady Catherine,” she said and then curtseyed to the gentlemen.