Defending Elizabeth Page 8

  "What an honor," Elizabeth said, a bit weakly.

  Mr. Collins looked her up and down. "But you cannot wear that."

  Elizabeth looked down at her dress. It was a blue walking dress; obviously it was improper for dinner. Did Mr. Collins believe she had no sense of propriety at all?

  "I brought a dinner dress," she responded.

  "Kitty, go with Elizabeth and have a look, hmm? Although I am sure Lady Catherine will not be too offended as long as you try your best. She is aware there are those in truly humble situations, and she shall not judge you for that which you cannot control."

  Elizabeth stared at him with her mouth open a bit, shocked at the idea of her being in a "truly humble situation.” He made it sound as if she was a foundling who had been left on their doorstep.

  Kitty knew the expression Elizabeth wore, and hurried her away before Elizabeth could respond.

  "Pardon him. He gets nervous when there is to be a dinner at Rosings," she whispered. "I am certain your dinner dress will be appropriate. But let us have a look, anyway."

  Elizabeth allowed Kitty to lead her away. She was not in the slightest looking forward to the upcoming dinner.

  Chapter 14

  The afternoon seemed to drag by. Mr. Collins continued to work on his sermon, and Kitty and Elizabeth spent a portion of the time preparing for dinner. Their hair needed to be set more ornately than they would have worn it for a simple dinner at home, and they needed to dress. There was much to do, but it was such dull work for such a minor prize that Elizabeth felt like the day was going on forever.

  Finally, all the preparations were made and the Collinses and Elizabeth set off on foot for Rosings Park. Mr. Collins was in good spirits at the prospect of a dinner with Lady Catherine. Kitty seemed, as she had mentioned to Elizabeth during her walk, nervous about the idea of spending more time in Lady Catherine’s presence. As for Elizabeth, she was hoping for an uneventful evening that would be over quickly. She did not expect that she would be invited to dine at Rosings more than once during her trip, so she was eager to have it behind her.

  The walk up to the main door of Rosings was as finely maintained as everything else she had seen of the estate. The greenery was well trimmed and flowers were planted at a uniform distance along the path. There was nothing that could be criticized, but, at the same time, neither was there anything that could be especially admired. Elizabeth wondered if the inside of the house would have the same blankness that the outside did.

  Her question was soon answered as they were ushered into the house. The house was tastefully decorated. It was clear that plenty of money had been spent on decorating and furnishing Rosings. But it still lacked a feeling of vigor, as if everything inside was limply waiting for something to happen. Elizabeth shivered a bit, although the house was plenty warm. She already felt that she was not fond of Rosings.

  They were ushered into a sitting room. At the far end, next to a roaring fireplace, sat three women. Mr. and Mrs. Collins and Elizabeth made their way across the room. It was immediately clear which one was Lady Catherine. She watched them with a disinterested haughtiness. Her chin was thrust forward so that she was actually looking down her face towards them, although they were standing and she was sitting. They approached her chair in silence, and Mr. Collins bowed, then Kitty curtsied.

  “Lady Catherine de Bourgh, allow me to introduce my sister by marriage, Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” said Mr. Collins.

  Elizabeth stepped forward and curtsied. Lady Catherine’s expression had not changed in the slightest since they had entered the room.

  “You are welcome here, Miss Bennet,” she said in a voice that did not sound welcoming in the slightest. “This is my daughter, Miss Anne de Bourgh.”

  Elizabeth curtsied once again at the tiny woman who sat to the side of Lady Catherine. Even with the fire in the room built up, Miss de Bourgh was still wrapped tightly in a shawl. A woman sat to her side, fussing over her. Elizabeth suspected this woman to be Anne’s nurse.

  Then, out of the shadows to the side of the room stepped someone that Elizabeth never imagined she would see at Rosings—Mr. Darcy.

  “Miss Bennet,” he said with a bow. “How nice to see you again.”

  “And you, Mr. Darcy,” she said, although she did not mean it. “I did not expect to find you here.”

  “I have come to visit my aunt.” Darcy gestured to his side, and Elizabeth noticed that another man was standing next to him. “Miss Bennet, allow me to introduce my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam.”

  Colonel Fitzwilliam stepped forward and bowed deeply. “It is an honor, Miss Bennet,” he said. Elizabeth noticed that the Colonel had bright blue eyes that danced with mirth. Although he was not nearly as handsome as his taciturn cousin, he seemed much more amiable, and she liked him immediately.

  After introductions were made, there was an awkward silence while everyone waited to see who would speak next. Predictably, it was Lady Catherine.

  “How do you find Kent, Miss Bennet?” she asked.

  “It is quite lovely. Kitty and I walked along the edge of your park yesterday and I very much enjoyed the scenery.”

  “I should think that it is quite a pleasant change from Hertfordshire,” Lady Catherine sniffed. “I have never visited, but I have heard the most abominable things about the weather there.”

  Elizabeth stared, her mouth open a bit in surprise. She had never considered the weather in Hertfordshire, but it did not seem much different from the weather she had experienced in Kent. And how ought one to respond when their local weather is disparaged? Elizabeth could not find a single word.

  “Yes,” said Lady Catherine with a firm nod. “Your silence is all the confirmation that I need that I have heard correctly. It must be ghastly to live there.”

  Of all the people who could help her, Elizabeth did not expect it to be Darcy.

  “Actually, Aunt, the weather was quite mild when I visited,” he said.

  “Hmm. Well. Perhaps you were there during a rare spell of fine weather,” his aunt replied, and her tone informed everyone listening that, as far as she was concerned, the subject was closed. Elizabeth was not upset at the slightest to be done with the conversation.

  Lady Catherine declared it time to go through to the dining room, so it was done. Elizabeth found herself seated between Mr. Collins and Colonel Fitzwilliam. Since she had said nearly all there was to say to Mr. Collins during her visit so far, Elizabeth was pleased that the Colonel seemed receptive to conversing with her.

  “How fortunate that your sister wed Mr. Collins, so that I might get the chance to meet you,” he said.

  “Yes, fortunate for all of us, I believe,” Elizabeth said, returning his smile.

  “How have you really found your trip? No need to speak of the weather.”

  “It has been quite diverting, and the parsonage is lovely.”

  “Well, as far as I am concerned, you ought to stay forever. You add a charming decoration to our party, and I hear that you are quite a wit, as well.”

  Elizabeth laughed. “Whoever told you that I am ‘quite a wit’ is exaggerating, sir,” she said.

  “I think not,” said the Colonel, glancing across the table at Darcy. “If anything, he tends towards understatement.”

  Elizabeth also looked at Darcy, startled that the opinion of her had come from him rather than from Mr. Collins or Kitty. He met her eyes and looked at her levelly, his gaze giving no hint as to what he might really be thinking.

  “Did I hear myself referred to?” he asked mildly.

  “I was just sharing your opinion on Miss Bennet with her,” the Colonel replied, the corner of his mouth turning up in a smile.

  Darcy looked momentarily worried, but then the taciturn calmness returned to her face.

  “Are you speaking of what a skilled dancer she is?” he asked.

  Elizabeth just barely resisted the urge to snort.

  “No, I am speaking of her wit,” the Colonel replied.

&nb
sp; “What is all this about wit, then?” asked Lady Catherine, clearly upset at not being in the middle of the conversation. “I do not feel that wit is one of the characteristics that most recommends a young lady.”

  “Lady Catherine, please do tell us the characteristics that recommend a young lady,” said Mr. Collins. “I am certain that Miss Bennet would be edified to hear your wisdom.”

  “Well,” began Lady Catherine, clearly pleased to be called on as an expert, “the most obvious thing is breeding, but that is out of a young lady’s control. However, those young ladies who are well-born will naturally be better at that which they put their mind to. It is just like a racehorse—when superior stock is bred, the result will likewise be superior.”

  Elizabeth stared with her mouth ajar. She did not agree with Lady Catherine in the slightest, but she did not make a sound in order to hear what her hostess might say next.

  “If a young lady has not had the fortune to be well-born, there are things that she can affect to improve herself. She ought to be competent at needlecraft, drawing, and music, and she should be exceptional in at least one of those fields. She should be demure and respectful towards her elders and towards others that she might interact with in society. She should make a special effort to enhance her natural beauty, but ought not to cover it up by artificial means like ribbons and feathers. Why, for example, Anne is an example of an exceptional young woman. Although she does not play the pianoforte, I am convinced that she would be exceptional at it. What is more, her needlework and drawing are superb. She is well-bred and quite lovely in a natural sort of way. Yes, I think that more young women ought to strive to be like Anne.”

  Anne fidgeted in her seat a bit, clearly embarrassed by her mother. Lady Catherine finished speaking and looked around the table severely, as if daring someone to disagree with her. After a moment, someone did.

  “Aunt, I think you overlook the importance of wit in a modern young lady.”

  “Modern! I have no need for modern young ladies, Darcy, and neither should you.”

  “I mean to say that things are changing. A man today is not looking for a pretty girl who plays pianoforte and embroiders but does not have an interesting thought in her head. Most young men hope for a life partner that can challenge them and make them the best versions of themselves.”

  “I think you are quite wrong!” said Lady Catherine indignantly. “Fitzwilliam, what think you of the description Darcy has just made?”

  “My fervent wish is not to become involved in a conversation where I am guaranteed to upset someone. I will only say that a young lady who is beautiful, talented, and witty shall not have a problem finding a good husband.”

  “And neither shall a girl who has been born to a good family and raised properly,” said Lady Catherine, with an air of finality.

  Elizabeth saw Darcy’s eyes flicker to Anne when Lady Catherine made her last statement. It was clear of whom Lady Catherine spoke.

  The party was silent for a moment. Lady Catherine clearly considered the conversation finished, and none of her guests had any inclination to revive it.

  “Mrs. Collins, Miss Bennet, how are your sisters?” Mr. Darcy inquired.

  “Well, Lizzy should know better than I,” said Kitty with a smile. “I only know what I hear in letters, and those letters are usually from Lizzy.”

  “Well, Mary and Lydia are much as you last saw them,” said Elizabeth. “Jane has gone to London to stay with our aunt and uncle. Perhaps you have seen her?”

  “No, I cannot say that I have,” said Darcy.

  “And how is Mr. Bingley? Have you seen him recently?”

  “Bingley is well. I was with him in town only a few days ago. He has many diversions in London.”

  “Does he intend to quit Netherfield for a long time?” asked Elizabeth.

  “He has indicated to me no desire to return anytime soon,” Darcy said.

  “That is a shame. My sister was very saddened that she did not get to speak with him before he left.”

  Elizabeth mulled over what she had just learned. If Darcy was with Bingley only a few days prior and did not know that Jane was in London, Jane and Bingley probably had not yet met. And if Mr. Bingley had no plans to return to Netherfield, who knew how long it might be before they saw one another again?

  Mr. Collins filled the silence by rhapsodizing over the fine quality of the potatoes. He managed to fill nearly five minutes speaking of how such a humble thing as a potato could be glorious if it was treated correctly, and then attempted to compare people to potatoes. Elizabeth noticed the colonel smiling into his napkin, and it solidified her opinion that he was a fine sort of man.

  The final courses were served, and the conversation continued much in the same way: Lady Catherine lectured on how things ought to be done, Mr. Collins was effusively complimentary to everything that his patroness said, Darcy asked general questions that were answered quickly, and Elizabeth and Colonel Fitzwilliam shared several laughing glances.

  Elizabeth was relieved that a portion of the evening, at least, was over with the meal. Lady Catherine suggested that they retire to the sitting room for entertainment.

  “Mrs. Collins, you mentioned that you play the pianoforte the last time you dined here,” said Lady Catherine. “I would like some music. Please play for us.”

  Elizabeth sat next to Kitty on the piano bench to turn the pages of her music.

  “I told her that I play the pianoforte poorly,” Kitty whispered to Elizabeth.

  “I believe Lady Catherine hears what she wishes to,” Elizabeth whispered back. She was secretly glad that Lady Catherine had not asked her to play; that would make for an abominable evening for player and audience both!

  Kitty looked over the music.

  “I cannot play this,” she said. “I will have to play something that I already know.”

  “Then I suppose I must go speak with people,” said Elizabeth. “I cannot pretend to turn invisible pages, I do not believe.”

  Elizabeth left her sister with whispered words of support and perched on the settee that was as far away from Lady Catherine as possible.

  The remainder of the evening passed somewhat awkwardly. Kitty did, indeed, play poorly. Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Darcy engaged Elizabeth in conversation. The colonel continued to be charming, and Darcy continued to be Darcy. Elizabeth knew better than to set high expectations for his behavior. He seemed a bit more nervous than usual, however, and Elizabeth momentarily wondered why. Then she remembered that she did not care in the slightest why Mr. Darcy did what he did, and turned her attention more fully to the story that Colonel Fitzwilliam was telling.

  Chapter 15

  Two days after they dined at Rosings, a letter came for Elizabeth. She turned the envelope over in her hand, unable to discern the handwriting. It was obviously not from Jane, and the only other person with whom she corresponded regularly was Kitty. Also, it appeared to be written by a male hand.

  Elizabeth opened the letter with trepidation, and looked at the signature before anything else.

  "G. Wickham."

  Elizabeth felt her stomach drop. It was extremely improper for an unmarried man to send correspondence to an unmarried lady. To do so was sometimes, in itself, seen as a proposal of marriage. Why would Mr. Wickham do something as shocking as sending her a letter?

  Her eyes scanned the page, hoping he had not bypassed etiquette because of some sort of emergency. The letter contained only a few lines, and did not seem to point to an emergency.

  Dear Miss Bennet,

  As I feared, Meryton very keenly feels your loss. I hardly know what to do with myself without you here. I do not believe the sun has shined once since you left.

  Denny and I see quite a bit of Lydia. She is as boisterous as ever, and bade me to send her regards when I told her I was writing. I am trying my hardest to watch over her, but, as you know, that is not always an easy task.

  I have something I wish to speak with you about as soon a
s you return. It is of the utmost importance. Please, do come back soon.

  G. Wickham

  Elizabeth's hands trembled as she held the letter. For what could he wish to talk to her, aside from proposing marriage? It would explain why he took the unusual step of mailing her. She read the letter over once again, and the meaning seemed even clearer the second time. Wickham was hinting he planned to propose.

  She sat down hard. She could send no reply to him; one impropriety ought not beget another; but even if she could send a letter, she did not have the slightest idea of what she might say. Of course, she considered the idea Mr. Wickham might propose, but she never had cause to give the idea serious thought. It seemed her time to think was confined to the weeks she remained at Hunsford.

  There were many reasons she thought Mr. Wickham would be an amiable husband. He was handsome and good-natured, smart and witty. What woman would not want such things in a husband? But Elizabeth could not convince herself without reservation that she would accept him.

  Perhaps what caused her pause was not Mr. Wickham, but rather the idea of marriage at all. She imagined what it might be like to wed someone like Colonel Fitzwilliam, who was also a delightful conversation partner. He did not make her heart beat as quickly as Mr. Wickham, but he was a good man and would make a fine husband. At the thought of marrying Colonel Fitzwilliam, her heart fluttered less, but her head felt calmer. It seemed her issue was not with marriage, but with the man.

  She could not think of a single reason she should refuse Mr. Wickham if he asked. Although she could not say she loved him, she liked him quite a bit. Also, since Kitty married Mr. Collins, there was less pressure on Elizabeth to make an advantageous match. But there was something about Mr. Wickham that stuck in her mind like a burr. She could not determine what the issue was, or whether it was a sensible rejection. All she knew was the letter did not fill her with the sort of joy a woman ought to feel at the idea of her sweetheart proposing marriage.