Chapter 8
Lady Catherine de Bourgh arrived at Longbourn two days later, late in the afternoon, having received Mr. Collins's alarmed account of a neighborhood rumor that had reached Lucas Lodge with improvements. Rank, Elizabeth discovered, could make even bad information travel with impressive speed.
She came in a carriage large enough to suggest invasion and descended from it with the expression of a woman who had never been contradicted by weather, distance, or another person's rights.
Mrs. Bennet, seeing grandeur at her door, entered a state of hospitality so violent that Hill had to be sent in three directions at once.
Hill announced the visitor in a voice made thin by awe. "Lady Catherine de Bourgh, ma'am."
Before Mrs. Bennet could decide whether to curtsy, cry out, or demand why no one had warned her, Lady Catherine said, "Mrs. Bennet, I presume."
"Yes, your ladyship. What an honor. What a very unexpected honor. Lizzy, why did you not tell us? Mr. Bennet, come directly. Kitty, stand straight. Mary, do not sing."
"I have not come for ceremony," Lady Catherine said.
"No, certainly not. Though we have ham."
"I require Miss Elizabeth Bennet."
Elizabeth, who had been standing near the hall table with her gloves in hand, set them down. "Then you are fortunate, ma'am. I am rarely required by anyone with so little warning."
Lady Catherine's eyes narrowed. "You may attend me in the shrubbery."
"Our shrubbery is honored by the promotion."
Mrs. Bennet looked between them, delighted and terrified. "Lizzy, mind your manners. Lady Catherine, may I offer tea?"
"No."
Mrs. Bennet absorbed this as if tea itself had been insulted.
Elizabeth followed Lady Catherine outside. The afternoon air was cool and bright, which seemed unfair; scenes of intimidation ought to occur in weather with better moral sense.
Lady Catherine did not sit. Sitting might have implied she was a guest.
"Miss Elizabeth Bennet," she began, "you can be at no loss to understand the reason of my journey."
"I can, ma'am. I have been at a loss since you entered the hall."
"Obstinate girl. Mr. Collins has written to me of a most alarming report. You are to be united with my nephew."
"Am I? How efficient of reports. They have arranged more than he has."
"Do not trifle with me."
"I would not presume. You appear to have brought enough seriousness for both of us."
Lady Catherine drew herself up. "Mr. Darcy is engaged to my daughter."
"Is he?"
"In every expectation, understanding, and family intention."
"That sounds crowded. Was Mr. Darcy present?"
"His presence is not required for a connection so proper."
"How restful for him."
Lady Catherine's face hardened. "You are beneath him."
At least Lady Catherine did not decorate the insult. No family considerations. No prudence. Just the thing itself, dragged into the morning with its hair uncombed.
Elizabeth felt an odd calm settle over her. After Hunsford, after letters, after Caroline's polished venom, Lady Catherine's bluntness was almost a courtesy.
"You came a long way to say so," Elizabeth replied.
"I came to demand that you promise never to enter into such an engagement."
"And if I decline?"
"You will be censured, slighted, and despised by everyone connected with him."
"That is a formidable list, though I believe some have begun early."
"You admit your inferiority."
"I admit only that you are loud."
Lady Catherine stared as if volume had never before been criticized by its victim.
"Miss Elizabeth Bennet, do you know who I am?"
"Perfectly. That is why I am disappointed. A woman of your consequence might have found a more original argument."
"You insolent, headstrong girl."
"Yes, that one is popular."
The shrubbery path curved near the house. Elizabeth became aware, with a flicker of amusement, that the breakfast room window stood partly open. Shadows moved behind the curtain. Her family, it appeared, had discovered that moral support could be conducted by eavesdropping.
Lady Catherine followed her glance. "Are we observed?"
"Almost certainly."
"This is intolerable."
"Longbourn often is before breakfast."
"You will answer me. Are you engaged to my nephew?"
"No."
Lady Catherine exhaled sharply. "And will you promise never to be?"
"No."
"Then you expect him to propose?"
"I expect gentlemen to manage their own proposals and ladies their own answers."
"You would accept him?"
Elizabeth paused.
There had been a time when the question would have been absurd.
There had been a time, more recent and more troubling, when the question would have been dangerous.
Now, standing before a woman who believed Elizabeth's future could be ordered like a carriage, she felt the answer form from pride, justice, and something warmer she refused to inspect in daylight.
"I would consider any proposal made with respect," she said.
Lady Catherine went pale with fury. "Then you are determined to have him."
"No, ma'am. I am determined that you shall not decide the matter for either of us."
The curtain in the breakfast room twitched violently. Lydia, Elizabeth guessed.
Lady Catherine took one step closer. "You will ruin him."
"If Mr. Darcy can be ruined by marrying a woman with an embarrassing mother and an uncle in trade, then Pemberley is built on sand."
"You are nobody."
Elizabeth smiled. "Then it is curious how much trouble I am causing."
For a moment, Lady Catherine seemed beyond speech. It was a considerable achievement, and Elizabeth allowed herself to enjoy it.
At last the great lady turned toward the carriage. "I shall know how to act."
"I never doubted it."
"I take no leave of you."
"Then I shall save my curtsy for an occasion that deserves it."
Lady Catherine departed in a storm of silk, rank, and unsatisfied command. The carriage rolled away with such force that every stone in the drive seemed indignant.
Elizabeth returned to the house.
Her family attempted innocence and failed in five different styles.
Mrs. Bennet was flushed with curiosity. Kitty looked frightened. Lydia looked delighted. Mary looked ready to moralize. Mr. Bennet looked as if he had been given a private theatrical and found the ticket underpriced.
"Well, Lizzy," he said, "I hope you have not offended our distinguished visitor."
"I am afraid I did."
"Excellent. I have always thought our shrubbery wanted consequence."
Mrs. Bennet seized Elizabeth's hands. "What did she want? Is Mr. Darcy to marry Anne de Bourgh? Are you to marry Mr. Darcy? Is anyone to marry anyone? Mr. Bennet, do not sit there smiling while I am in suspense."
"My dear, suspense is the only exercise I enjoy."
Elizabeth escaped as soon as she could, but not before Jane drew her aside.
"Lizzy," Jane whispered, "what did Lady Catherine mean?"
Elizabeth looked toward the drive, where the last dust of the carriage had settled.
"She meant to frighten me."
"Did she?"
"No."
Jane's eyes softened. "And Mr. Darcy?"
Elizabeth did not answer at once.
The truth was impossible and simple: Lady Catherine had done what Darcy's letter, apologies, and public corrections had not fully managed.
She had shown Elizabeth the old contempt stripped of his struggle against it.
She had shown what he had been taught to value and what he was trying, painfully, to unlearn.
If Darcy still chose pride, he would have an army ready to welcome him.
If he chose respect, he would have to choose it against them.
"I think," Elizabeth said slowly, "he is about to receive a very unpleasant report."
Jane squeezed her hand. "And are you sorry?"
Elizabeth thought of Lady Catherine's fury, Caroline's shock, Darcy's bowed head in the shrubbery, and the first insult at Meryton that had somehow led them all here.
"No," she said. "But I am interested."