Page 57 of Elizabeth and Mrs. Bennet

“Where is George? Why hasn’t he come to greet me, the sister of his wife? I am most displeased!”

“Lady Catherine, welcome to Pemberley. Would you like refreshments after your journey?”

There was some disturbance in the hall; Mrs. Reynolds came to the door. “My apologies, Master Fitzwilliam, but there is a Mr. Collins, who says he travelled with Lady de Bourgh?”

Darcy gave me an enquiring look, but I shook my head. Whatever was the man doing in Derbyshire? He should be in Meryton, taking up his inheritance.

“There she is! There is the jilt!” Mr. Collins barged into the room, shouting at me, his face red and sweating as it had been in the parlour at Longbourn when I first met the man.

“Enough, sir!” Darcy beckoned to a footman who had come to the door. “One more word, and Jacob will remove you. Am I clear?”

“B—but…” He spluttered, then slammed his mouth shut as Darcy stepped forward. I had never seen him so menacing. He turned to Lady Catherine.

“Aunt, why have you brought this man here? I will not have a guest at Pemberley slandered. I am disinclined to allow him to remain.”

“Darcy, it is I who demand an explanation. Why is this woman staying at Pemberley? It is not to be borne. And in the company of Georgiana, no less.”

Sometimes, my good sense deserts me—actually, more often than I would wish. “Lady Catherine,” I said, “Perhaps you wish to speak with Mrs. Bennet; she, by marriage, is Mr. Collins’s cousin.”

“Be quiet, girl! I have not given you permission to speak!”

‘She speaks poniards, and every word stabs,’ Mary muttered. Darcy smirked, for the words had been spoken aloud.

‘If her breath were as terrible as her terminations, there were no living near her,’ continued Darcy. “Miss Bennet, mayhap we should learn from Shakespeare, for I believe this brouhaha is much ado about nothing, as you have so aptly quoted.”

Lady Catherine stared at Darcy in confusion. “Darcy, I have not travelled two hundred miles to be laughed at!”

“Then, why have you come, Aunt? And why is Mr. Collins here? I can assure you that Mr. Wainwright, the vicar of Kympton, is quite able to administer to our souls.”

The lady slumped into a chair, then abruptly turned to Mr. Collins. “Where is Anne? Surely you did not leave her in the carriage?”

The poor man looked mortified, but was saved from further embarrassment when a young lady, presumably Miss de Bourgh, entered the drawing room on the arm of Mr. Darcy.

“I found my niece shivering in your carriage, Catherine.” He led Miss de Bourgh to a seat by the fire. “Georgiana, please make Anne comfortable.”

Georgiana immediately went to her cousin, while I requested Mrs. Reynolds, who had remained near the door, to bring tea and some extra shawls for the young woman.

“Well, Catherine, this is most unexpected.”

* * *

The lady glared at him, but having known her for thirty years, Mr. Darcy had her measure. The room was silent except for the muttering of Mr. Collins and the sparks flying from the hearth as the fire was built up by a maid. The young girl departed, and Mr. Darcy indicated to the footman, Jacob, that he should leave also.

“You dissemble, George. You can be at no loss to understand the reason for my journey in this disagreeable Derbyshire weather—when I am about in Kent, it never rains.”

“Fortunate indeed, Catherine. But neither Fitzwilliam nor I can account for your journey, leaving behind the exemplary weather of Kent to visit us here.”

“George, I never understood my sister marrying so low. And you have brought yourself lower, no doubt. But, however insincere you may choose to be, you will not find me so. A report of a most alarming nature reached me at Rosings.” Lady Catherine glanced at Mr. Collins, who was nodding—what was the man about?

“It is widely known—what is the town near your estate, Mr. Collins?—in Merryham, that you have a widow and an unmarried woman living under your roof—a scandal, George, you the husband of my sister, and Fitzwilliam her son. And what of Georgiana? She will be ruined in the eyes of society.”

I winced; put so boldly, it did carry a whiff of scandal. Yet Mr. Darcy merely smiled. “Why, thank you, Catherine, for taking the trouble to travel so far and risk a taint yourself. Your coming to Pemberley to visit me and my family is rather a confirmation that you approve of it.”

“You make a joke of scandal? The report, George, has already reached London.”

“By whose hand, I wonder.” Mr. Darcy turned to Mr. Collins. “And why, sir, are you here? Is my niece’s health now so precarious that she requires the constant attendance of a clergyman to pray for her?”

Miss de Bourgh gave a sudden start and snivelled into her handkerchief. “Papa!” cried Georgiana, “Anne is already weary from the journey. You should not upset her more.”