Page 11 of Infamous Relations

Still in shock from Lady Catherine’s dreadful words to Dr. Trent, Anne sat paralysed by the fire, staring at her mother as Lady Catherine stalked back and forth, muttering under her breath, a gleeful light in her eye.

“Mother,” she attempted to interject.

“Hush, Anne! We have him now! Oh, yes, we do,” Lady Catherine actually rubbed her hands together gleefully. She looked quite mad, Anne thought in horror, like a Shakespearean villain upon the stage.

“Have who? Mother, I do not like this…”

“You will be quiet!” Lady Catherine snapped, whirling to point a finger at her, and Anne shrank back, mentally berating herself for her timidity, but unable to help it. “I know what’s best. Me, your mother! You will do as I say. And so will Darcy.” She chuckled. “Indeed, he will!”

Utterly confused, Anne could only sit in miserable silence until the door swung open and Darcy strode in. She pushed herself to her feet, opening her mouth to address her cousin, but Darcy was already speaking, his tone stern.

“Lady Catherine, what is the meaning of this? Dr. Trent informed me that you have denied aid to Miss Bennet in her hour of need!”

“I certainly did,” Lady Catherine sneered, “and I tell you, Darcy, I am deeply ashamed of you. Your mother would turn over in her grave if she knew of your disgraceful behaviour!”

Darcy went first white, then red. “Do not dare to speak of my mother,” he said in a low, dangerous voice. “She would have liked Elizabeth very much.”

“Do not you dare to speak that name in Anne’s presence ever again!” Lady Catherine barked, before lowering her voice, her tone turning conciliatory, honey-sweet. “Come, Darcy. You have sown your wild oats. It is time to set this woman aside, do your duty to your family, and marry Anne.”

Darcy cast a glance at Anne, who shook her head and rolled her eyes at him. He did not smile, only nodded briskly. “It is time for you to set aside this delusion that Anne and I will someday marry, Aunt Catherine. Neither of us wish for it. We are fond of each other, but…”

“Then that is far more than most have as a basis for marriage!” Lady Catherine snapped back at him. “You will marry Anne, Darcy.” She walked closer to him, her smile sharp. “I shall have the banns called, beginning next Sunday. Mr. Collins will be delighted to oblige.”

“You shall do no such thing, because I am not marrying Anne!” Darcy’s voice rose.

“Oh, yes you are,” Lady Catherine said. “You must. How else shall you save Georgiana’s reputation?”

Darcy froze. “I beg your pardon?”

The two protagonists were so focused on each other that neither noticed the colonel enter the room. He looked at the tableau, at Darcy and Lady Catherine glaring at each other silently, looked over at Anne with raised eyebrows. She shook her head despairingly.

“You had best make your meaning clear, Lady Catherine,” Darcy said sharply at last.

“Not only have you been dallying with your trollop under my very nose…”

Darcy cut her off. “You will not call Miss Bennet such names, Lady Catherine, or it will go very ill for you!” He glared at her. She did not back down so much as an inch, glaring right back at him.

“You have also shown yourself to be a most unfit guardian for Georgiana. Your judgement is appalling, Darcy!”

“How dare you!” he was shouting now.

“Easy, Darce. Aunt Catherine is disappointed, that is all…” Carefully Fitzwilliam approached his cousin, placed a conciliatory hand on his shoulder.

“I am disappointed in both of you.” She folded her arms and smiled. “You both showed very poor judgement, in my opinion.”

“In innocently enjoying the company of a charming gentlewoman? I think not, madam,” Fitzwilliam said coolly. “Miss Bennet does not deserve your censure.”

“Oh, that is not what I am referring to.” Her smile was quite evil. “I am talking about your decision to employ Mrs. Younge without properly checking her references. To allow Georgiana to set up a household at the tender age of fifteen, to go to Ramsgate with naught but a paid companion to watch over her, and to educate her so poorly she thought nothing of agreeing to an elopement with the son of a steward.”

Darcy and Fitzwilliam were both so shocked they could only gape.

Sensing victory, Lady Catherine barrelled on. “You are both unfit guardians. I cannot imagine what your father was thinking, Darcy, to set two young men to watch over my niece! I shall set all to rights, believe me. When you and Anne are married and at Pemberley, Georgiana shall come here, to me. I shall soon have all these nonsensical notions of love out of her foolish head.”

Unable to speak, utterly horrified by what they were hearing, both men stood frozen. It was Anne’s voice that broke the ringing silence.

“You will do no such thing, Mother,” she said quite placidly, “because if you even think again of blackening Georgiana’s name, I will claim that I have already witnessed Darcy compromising Elizabeth. And I will tell my uncle how twice now you have attempted to place Darcy in a compromising situation with me, only to be foiled when I refused to do your bidding. You will be the laughing-stock of the Ton. And no, I do not care that my good name might be ruined. I do not wish ever to marry.”

Startled, they all looked at Anne. Colonel Fitzwilliam, rather more accustomed to being ambushed than Darcy, was the first to recover his wits and to support Anne’s statements.