14. A Confederacy of Dunces
A Confederacy of Dunces
That afternoon, after Charlotte’s whispered apology and Maria’s recounting of all there was to admire in Miss de Bourgh’s appearance, Elizabeth fled the house to walk along one of ‘the most glorious paths in all of England’, as Mr Collins had called it.
It was a pretty land, she acknowledged during her ramble, quite green and with thick foliage.
However, to its detriment, there was no equivalent to Oakham Mount, no elevation that would allow her to gain a full view of Rosings Park and the larger area of Kent.
Had there been, and had she been paying attention to her direction, she might have averted a near collision with Colonel Fitzwilliam, standing with Mr Darcy just off the path.
Were they also avoiding the home of their hostess?
The colonel seemed pleased to assist her as she slipped, but Mr Darcy’s usual glare only darkened.
“Take care, Miss Bennet,” cried the colonel as he caught her arm. “Which rock or tree root caused your stumble? Lady Catherine wishes a report on any bit of nature that might impede one’s safety.”
Elizabeth laughed at the truth of his statement. Be it rock, tree root, or heathens from Hertfordshire, the lady demanded to know everyone’s business. “The guilt is all mine, sir. I was inattentive as to my direction.”
She felt Mr Darcy turn his grave eyes on her. “Were you seeking something, Miss Bennet?”
“I sought a view of the valley,” she said disingenuously rather than inform him that she had wanted solitude and time away from overbearing relations and disappointing friends.
“While you were in Meryton, you may have heard tales of a headstrong girl who was the neighbourhood’s champion tree climber at the age of twelve.
Be assured, I have not been looking for a mighty oak with low-hanging limbs for today’s endeavour. ”
The colonel snorted a loud guffaw, but Mr Darcy remained still, only a slight upturn to his lips, indicating he had heard her words and had, perhaps, been amused.
Then, with a brief shake of his head, he said, “The view you desire can be enjoyed only by the residents of Rosings—if they cared to seek it.” He gestured towards the manor.
“The house’s domed cupola has a staircase leading to a large viewing platform on the roof.
It is concealed from the ground by the balustrade. ”
“Oh, how wonderful,” Elizabeth said with real feeling. “To have such an elevated view—it would be possible to see for miles around.”
“Indeed,” the colonel said jovially. “From such a vantage point, Lady Catherine could look down upon all of her domain”—he lowered his voice, but his amusement was unabated—“that is, if she or Anne could manage the stairs.”
Although shocked by the insult to his relations, Elizabeth went on to insult her own.
“Undoubtedly Mr Collins knows nothing of this staircase, for I am sure he would have entertained us with a profusion of compliments on the perfect symmetry of the avenues and formal gardens spreading from the house.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam joined his rich chuckle to hers and offered to escort her to the parsonage.
“Darcy is late for a meeting with my aunt. Perhaps he can secure the keys to the roof while they go over rents and repairs and wages. It would be quite a reward for the hours spent offering counsel that she rarely follows in full.”
The object of his humour shook his head. “Counsel can be offered and ignored by one party, but orders can be given to a lesser party to ensure it is carried out.”
“Such Machiavellian manoeuvring is beyond my powers. I am merely a soldier who follows orders,” the colonel said, smirking.
“And I always do my duty. Shall we, Miss Bennet?” He offered Elizabeth his arm and guided her away.
When she glanced over her shoulder, she found Mr Darcy looking almost forlorn before he bowed and began the short walk back to Rosings.
Elizabeth had rarely been in company with two such intelligent, eligible young men.
Uncomfortable as Mr Darcy might appear in the presence of her cousin—and anyone else in her family or neighbourhood—the colonel’s presence and teasing familiarity spurred an ease in him.
They sparred as brothers might, as equals, whereas Mr Darcy had always seemed a little indulgent towards Mr Bingley.
What was the reason for such laxity on his part?
Mr Darcy was a serious man who took his duty to his estate and to his officious aunt seriously.
Could he truly condone Mr Bingley’s licentious behaviour or encourage an attachment to his own sister?
“What say you, Miss Bennet? Are Rosings walks truly as beautiful as those in Hertfordshire?”
Her mind quickly shifted back to Colonel Fitzwilliam’s conversation. After she assured him that any country path would please her, he asked about Longbourn and her family and whether she would indeed shut her sisters in a cupboard, as Miss de Bourgh had advised.
“I mean no insult to Mrs Collins, but neither Mr Collins nor my aunt are great arbiters of a lady’s appeal.” At Elizabeth’s quiet laugh, he continued. “Thus I must conclude that each of your surfeit of sisters—a dozen, is it?—is as uniformly charming as you.”
Smiling at his easy affability, Elizabeth was amused to again find herself being charmed by a uniformed man in whom she could have no romantic interest.
Like Mr Wickham, he is open in his conversation, which, while admirable, is somewhat undisciplined for a soldier. Understanding this, Elizabeth decided to seek answers to questions that others—Jane, Lady Catherine, Mr Darcy—would likely deem impertinent.
“Is it true that Mr Darcy will wed Miss de Bourgh?”
It was a direct, even rude, enquiry and prompted a deep chuckle from the colonel.
“My dear cousin Anne is as disinterested in marriage as she is in civil conversation. Darcy has no intentions towards her, no matter the wishes of my aunt. She is no rival to you,” he said in a confiding tone, “or to any of these dozens of enchanting Bennet sisters I must avoid.”
The humour he intended went unheard. Rival to me? Before she could form a reply and ask his meaning, the colonel chuckled, which only deepened her discomfort.
“I beg your pardon. You must see that Darcy and I are rather bored here, and that your convivial conversation is a refreshing change from the usual doings of our annual visit. While I am not required to attend my aunt, Darcy is always dutiful.”
“You are kind to keep him company.”
“I suppose I am, but he will be in his shirtsleeves at a desk piled with papers while I enjoy my walk with a pleasant new acquaintance.”
A brief image of Mr Darcy, his jacket off and bent over a desk, flitted through Elizabeth’s mind. She dismissed it, but her quiet reverie seemed to alarm her companion, who was quick to assure her of his own duties—or lack of them, beyond the army.
“Unlike Darcy, who has much responsibility for his sister and his estates, as well as Rosings until he hires a new steward able to endure my aunt’s temper, I am free to come and go within my family.
I am a younger son, with little to offer to anyone but my fellow soldiers.
True love,” said the colonel with a somewhat theatrical sigh, “requires deep coffers.”
She wondered when the man had abandoned charm for such cool-eyed sentiments. Was she to pity the son of an earl? She looked away from him and fixed her gaze on a squirrel scampering at the roots of an oak tree. “Mutual affection, in my mind, would seem the underpinning of true love.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam barked out a loud laugh.
“Well, yes, but one must see evidence of such affection and trust that it is true. And one must take care to marry well.” He paused and in a low, confiding tone added, “If anyone is more sentient on this point, it is Darcy. He has lately done a friend a good favour, advising him on an estate and separating him from yet another unsuitable lady.”
“Unsuitable?” Elizabeth slowed as she recognised the friend to whom he referred. Jane is not unsuitable, and Mr Darcy did not separate her from Mr Bingley! Had I not done so, my poor sister could be unhappily betrothed to a libertine.
She took a breath to calm herself. The colonel was the messenger.
It was not he who deserved her anger, although she wondered at his astuteness.
Did he not follow the conversation in the parsonage, when he commented on Bingley’s abandonment of his lease?
How many friends was Mr Darcy advising on estates and ladies?
“In what way would Mr Darcy find a lady unsuitable? Is his friend a duke?”
“A man does not need a title to require a wife who is both acceptable to his family and suitable for the ton.”
The breadth of such an insult to her sister—sweet, beautiful, graceful Jane! She, the daughter of a landed gentleman, whose name and manner could only elevate that of the debauched son of a tradesman!
“So your cousin, famed for his discernment in such matters, took care of his friend? Was the man lovelorn and in despair or accepting of Mr Darcy’s judgment?”
“I cannot say,” came the reply in a voice far calmer than her own.
“I do not know the particulars but cannot doubt the propriety of it all. His friend has a soft heart and a soft head”—How generous a summary of Mr Bingley!
—“and Darcy is a good and loyal man who would offer consolation to any friend or relation in need.”
“Would he?” Elizabeth muttered to herself. She looked up and saw the colonel’s lips twitch, seemingly in amusement.
Forcing herself to calm, she said, “I thank you for the escort, sir, but as you see, the parsonage is just over there.” She gestured at the house down the path. “I bid you good day.”
She offered him no chance to respond as she hurried towards the house, desperately wishing to be alone, punch a pillow, and contemplate whether a decent man could be found in England.