Chapter Six
Mr. Collins, meanwhile, had not been idle.
He had briefly debated following Elizabeth out into the storm, but a few drops of rain upon his head had rapidly cooled his ardour.
Instead, he walked back into the house and stood in the parlour breathing heavily for a moment, before spotting upon the floor the letter that had caused him to lose his head.
Stooping heavily to pick it up, he weighed it in his hand for a moment, debating whether or not to read it.
“She should not be receiving letters from gentlemen! Disgraceful hussy!” he muttered darkly to himself, easing a finger under the already-broken seal. Flipping it back, he saw written at the bottom of the page;
God bless you, Fitzwilliam Darcy.
“Ugh!” Mr. Collins closed up the letter again, thought of casting it upon the fire.
But no. No, Miss Bennet was not the only one whose shameful behaviour the letter exposed.
Mr. Darcy’s actions were despicable; to cavort so with Elizabeth under the very nose of his betrothed!
Poor Miss De Bourgh! Her mother would be appalled!
Yes… Lady Catherine. Lady Catherine must be apprised of this shocking turn of events as soon as possible. She would know what to do. Lady Catherine always knew how to act.
It was still raining, though. But peering from the window, he could see blue sky in the distance.
The rain would stop soon. He would just wait a little longer before setting out.
Indeed, perhaps Elizabeth would reconsider, would return and accept his very generous offer.
She was hopelessly compromised now that he had discovered her secret, after all…
“Mr. Collins is here? Now? But I did not summon him!” Lady Catherine said, quite astounded, as her butler announced the parson’s arrival.
Anne, seated close by the fire, watched curiously as her mother seemed to waver for a moment before waving an imperious hand.
“Very well, very well, I am persuaded that the man is not so foolish as to impose himself upon me uninvited for anything less than an urgent matter. Show him in.”
A moment later, the obsequious parson was bowing and scraping before Lady Catherine.
Unnoticed by the fire, Anne watched with repugnance as her mother accepted the servility as nothing more than her due.
Mrs. Jenkinson had gone to visit her sister and Anne did not wish to be alone; even her mother’s company was better than none today, she had thought.
And this impromptu visit promised to be entertaining, at the least.
“Do pardon me, Lady Catherine, for my unheralded visit, but there is a matter of the utmost importance that I have to bring to your ladyship’s attention,” Mr. Collins grovelled.
It was quite remarkable, Anne thought, how for a tall man Mr. Collins could contort himself so small.
He bore a distinct resemblance to a toad in his current attitude.
She suppressed an unladylike giggle, lest her mother be recalled to her presence and send her from the room before she heard any interesting gossip.
“Pray enlighten me, Mr. Collins, what urgent matter has caused you to see fit to disturb my morning?” Lady Catherine said frostily.
Disturb what? Anne thought. Lady Catherine had been doing nothing of note, merely flicking desultorily through a ladies’ magazine lately delivered and making disparaging remarks about how true ladies would not waste their time with such nonsense.
Anne wanted to ask why Lady Catherine continued her subscription, but did not quite dare.
Mr. Collins was still grovelling, blithering on about nothing in his wordy, nonsensical way, until finally he produced a letter and offered it up to Lady Catherine.
“And what is this?” Lady Catherine said frostily, looking at the direction, “do you read your cousin’s mail, then, sir? That is rather intrusive of you…”
Anne bit her lip. She had never received a letter that her mother had not first read.
Not even from Georgiana or her aunt Lady Matlock – of course, those were the only two correspondents she had.
And what they could possibly say to her that her mother might take offence at, Anne could not imagine.
Still, it would be nice to have a little privacy.
But apparently, that was not something that young ladies might be allowed.
Poor Miss Elizabeth, that Mr. Collins should insist on reading her private correspondence!
“But, your ladyship,” Mr. Collins said anxiously, “I pray you, look at the seal!”
Lady Catherine frowned at him, and turned the letter over.
Her mouth fell open, and she gaped, Anne thought, very much like a carp for several moments. And then she almost ripped the letter in her haste to unfold and read it.
It was a long letter, several pages all folded together. Anne would have loved to move closer, to see what had Lady Catherine turning first puce and then white, and then finally puce again, before taking a deep breath and addressing her parson.
“You did well to bring me this, Mr. Collins,” she said finally. “Very well. Did you read it?”
There was a note in her voice that Anne had never heard before. She did not understand it, but she did recognise the look of triumph that now suffused her mother’s features.
“I did not, your ladyship! Only – I did unfold the last page, and saw the signature…”
“You will speak of it to no one. No one, do you understand?” Lady Catherine stood and crossed the room with quick steps, throwing the letter into the fire. “No one must ever know that my nephew has been corresponding with Miss Bennet.”
“Of course, your ladyship,” Collins grovelled.
Anne was close enough to the fire to see the writing on the paper as it burned up. To recognise it as being Darcy’s firm, close-written hand, not Fitzwilliam’s loose scrawl.
It seemed her suspicions were correct. Anne smiled to herself slightly. One learned much if one simply sat quietly and observed. Darcy had been most agitated whenever in Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s company, and highly distracted whenever she was absent. The man was deeply, completely in love.
And Lady Catherine and Mr. Collins were hell-bent on ruining everything.
“Lady Catherine, I cannot tell you how deeply I regret bringing Miss Bennet into your august presence!” Mr. Collins cried.
“I should never have permitted Mrs. Collins to invite her, I suspected when I met her in Hertfordshire what she was, for what decent woman would refuse a proposal such as mine? She has cast her allurements for your nephew, the shameless hussy, and surely Mr. Darcy cannot be blamed for falling victim to her wiles, for such are the arts of wanton women…”
“Indeed, Mr. Collins!” Lady Catherine cut him off mid-rant. “Your cousin brings shame upon her family, and will bring shame upon yours too, if you do not act swiftly! You must have her out of your house today. Nightfall, no later, or your reputation as a clergyman will be irrevocably damaged!”
“Of course, Lady Catherine! You are quite correct, Lady Catherine, as always!”
Anne closed her eyes in horror. Poor Miss Bennet.
Though she was most curious to know what the letter was all about.
Dishonourable, Darcy, she thought at her cousin, shaking her head.
Unless the pair were already secretly engaged, and Darcy was only waiting for Miss Bennet to leave, to have his beloved safely out of range of Lady Catherine’s wrath, before breaking the news?
That must be it, Anne decided. Darcy would surely never jeopardise Elizabeth’s reputation unless they already had an understanding.
Well, she would do her best to intercept and warn him before Lady Catherine set about him.
There was nothing she could do for Elizabeth at this moment, but find Darcy and trust in him to set things right.
She was about to rise when the butler entered and coughed politely.
“Dr. Trent to see you, your ladyship.”
“It can wait…” Lady Catherine was in the midst of a vitriolic harangue against Elizabeth Bennet, and all ‘conniving hussies of her ilk!’, and did not care to be interrupted.
The butler coughed. “I do beg your pardon, your ladyship, but it is an urgent matter.”
“Oh, very well,” Lady Catherine said petulantly, thinking that she would have plenty of time over the coming days to abuse Elizabeth into Mr. Collins’ willing ear. “Go, Mr. Collins, and send that shameless trollop packing at once!”
“Yes, your ladyship!”
Anne hadn’t thought the heavy-set clergyman could move so fast as he did then, for he fairly bolted from the room. She was about to rise to follow him, to go looking for her cousins, when it occurred to her that the doctor might be there to see her. She remained in her seat, for the time being.
The doctor entered, spotted Anne at once beside the fire and gave her a reassuring smile and a nod.
She smiled back at him. They were good friends, she and Dr. Trent, of necessity.
Anne’s health was truly poor, and she was fairly sure she would not have survived the last few winters without the good doctor’s excellent efforts and constant, careful attention.
“Lady Catherine,” Trent came to the point quickly after giving only a brief, though deeply courteous, bow.
“Your butler and housekeeper have informed me that you must give approval for any ice from Rosings’ ice-house to be used, so I have to come to apply to you directly.
Miss Elizabeth Bennet, with whom I know you are acquainted, has sustained a nasty head wound and requires ice to succour her. ”
“Certainly not,” Lady Catherine said coldly.
Dr. Trent blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“Certainly not, Doctor. I will not permit it. In fact, I forbid you to treat her. Let her bleed to death.”
“Mother!” Anne cried, truly shocked.
Obviously shocked, Dr. Trent stared at the lady, who glared back at him with her head held high.
“Your ladyship, I cannot obey that command. The Hippocratic oath forbids it, even if Christian charity would permit me,” he said slowly. “I beg you to reconsider.”
“I will not. Leave my house this instant, and you will reconsider that choice if you wish to remain in my employ.” Lady Catherine yanked the bell pull. “Dr. Trent is leaving,” she said icily when the butler entered.