Chapter One Hundred and Four
Lady Catherine had looked closely at Anne’s dance card.
She was to dance the first with Mr. Paul Hughes, the second with Mr. Isaac Stevens, the third with Mr. Alexander Webb, the fourth with Mr. Robert Harris, the supper dance with Mr. Charles Allen, the sixth with Mr. Fred Griffiths, the seventh with Mr. Simon Dawson, and the last with Mr. Gerard Payne.
As Anne sailed off on Mr. Hughes’ arm, Lady Catherine considered these gentlemen.
Mr. Hughes had just returned from an abbreviated tour of the continent; his mother had complained to Lady Catherine that he had returned rather full of the wonders of Greece, the cuisine of Italy, and worst of all – himself.
Apparently, this trip had made Mr. Hughes think rather meanly of anyone who had not had similar advantages; the word “uncultured” apparently crossed his lips rather often.
Still, Lady Catherine thought, such might simply be the folly of youth, and something that was likely to be outgrown.
Mr. Stevens was a little old for Anne, being all of three and thirty, but he was a serious gentleman who took good care of his widowed mother and unmarried sister, despite being a third son.
The first-born son was busy gambling the estate away, the second son had long ago decamped for Italy to fulfill his artistic ambitions, so it had been left to the third son to care for the ladies of the family.
He had no money of his own and no prospects; he was allowed to live at the family estate simply because he had become the caretaker of the ladies, something that the elder son could not be bothered with.
Lady Catherine thought him a good match for her Anne, though likely he would be too somber for her tastes.
And, of course, the widowed mother and unmarried sister would immediately take up residence at Rosings, as well.
Mr. Webb was a good-looking gentleman; perhaps too good-looking.
Lady Catherine, like many plain women, had a good deal of resentment against good-looking people of both sexes.
Things came too easily to them, she thought, while the rest of us have to struggle along!
Had Anne Darcy not been her sister, Lady Catherine doubtless would have disliked her intensely.
In any case, Lady Catherine did not wish her daughter to become involved with anyone as good-looking as Mr. Webb.
Mr. Harris, Mr. Allen and Mr. Griffiths were all decent gentlemen, all second sons with no estate and no prospects. She knew no harm of any of them, and would have been happy enough for Anne to select any of them.
Mr. Payne had been rather a surprise attendee.
He was a captain in the Army, and it just happened that he was on leave visiting his family when the ball was to be held.
Once Lady Catherine had been informed of this fact she, of course, extended an invitation to him as well as to his parents.
He was not a particularly good-looking man, but his smile was kind.
He reminded Lady Catherine, quite suddenly, of her nephew, Colonel Fitzwilliam.
Lady Catherine watched as Anne spun and twirled in the ballroom, looking excited and eager.
If Lady Catherine’s plans were successful, Anne would not need to endure the rigours of a Season in London.
Time would tell which of these gentlemen Anne might like, and which might form a tendré for Anne in return.
As Lady Catherine circulated amongst her guests, she heard Mr. Collins speaking to Mr. Payne’s youngest sister, Miss Cordelia Payne.
“I am the heir to an estate in Hertfordshire,” he said. “The income from the estate is about three thousand pounds per annum.”
“Oh!” Miss Payne gasped. “That is a good deal of money!”
“Yes,” Mr. Collins said, straightening his spine and lifting his chin. “It is, indeed.”
Lady Catherine shook her head. She had done her best to explain Mr. Collins’ situation to him, but Mr. Collins evidently still believed he had an inheritance.
Or perhaps he was simply trying to impress Miss Payne!
She had invited him to the ball because not to do so would have caused a good deal of speculation in the neighbourhood, but it was clear that she could not allow him to mislead the young ladies of the neighbourhood.
“Mr. Collins, may I speak with you?” she said.
“Of course, your ladyship!” With a quick bow to Miss Payne, he accompanied Lady Catherine to the wall.
“Mr. Collins, I insist that you stop speaking about your inheritance! It does not exist, do you understand me? And for you to mislead young ladies like Miss Payne – why, I simply will not tolerate it!”
“But –“
“No! No! If I hear of you speaking of this again, I shall be forced to go to the Archbishop, do you understand me?”
Mr. Collins bowed his head. Lady Catherine peered at him; was that a tear trickling down his cheek? She straightened up, shook her head in disgust, and marched off. One thing she disliked, even more than a good-looking man, was a man who wept.
***
As Lady Catherine had expected, the house was besieged by callers the day after the ball.
Many of the callers were there simply to express their thanks for the entertainment, but several were there to call on Miss de Bourgh.
Posies arrived with messages declaring various degrees of sentiment, all of which Anne exclaimed over and vowed to keep forever.
Lady Catherine was delighted with herself.
Here was Anne experiencing all the joys of a social life, without the cruelty of other girls!
It would have been different, she reflected, had her goal been for Anne to marry someone of importance and wealth, for in that case, Anne would certainly have had to go to London.
But Lady Catherine’s goal was quite the opposite.
A gentleman of good family who had an affection for her daughter was all that was required.
Once all the visitors had come and gone, Anne came to her mother and announced, “I believe I am ready for London, Mother!”
Lady Catherine’s mouth fell open. “London?” she gasped.
“Well, yes; is that not what all this was for? To prepare me for a Season? I believe I am ready now. We will need a good many new gowns, of course, and I know our townhouse is still rented out, so where had you planned for us to stay?”
Lady Catherine had no ready answers. She excused herself and went upstairs.