Darcy in Want of a Wife

Chapter 20

Dining Room

Rosings

The Next Evening

Richard Fitzwilliam took a bite of his entrée, then sat back in his finely carved dining chair, casting his gaze about the well-set table at his companions. He had arrived today at Rosings to make his annual visit to his aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and his Cousin Anne, and had dutifully joined them for supper. His aunt was, as he had expected, displeased with Darcy’s absence, but she had contented herself for now with introducing Richard to her new parson and his family.

Mr. Collins, the new rector of Hunsford, was a perfect example of one of Lady Catherine’s adulators; every word out of his mouth was praise towards his mistress. Mrs. Charlotte Collins, on the other hand, was quiet and well-spoken, unlike her simpering husband.

Mrs. Collins’ father was also in attendance, Sir William Lucas, and his younger daughter, Miss Maria Lucas. Sir William was an amiable enough fellow, though he fawned over Lady Catherine almost as much as her rector. Miss Lucas, in contrast, was nearly silent and picked at her dinner with an almost imperceptible tremble in her hands. She was not, Richard reflected, the first guest to be intimidated by his aunt’s autocratic presence.

Lady Catherine herself sat at the head of the table, her critical eye traveling over each of her guests in turn. On her right sat her daughter, Anne, who contributed little to the conversation, while her attendant, Mrs. Jenkinson, urged her to eat a hearty meal and continually asked if she was warm enough. Richard pitied his cousin, whose frailty and weakness had doomed her to a quiet and sheltered life under her mother’s thumb. Although Lady Catherine was insistent that her daughter be married to Darcy in order to join the estates of Pemberley and Rosings, Richard knew that Darcy was seeking a far more energetic wife than she.

The dining table was set with a vast spread of rich and delightful dishes, much more food than the dinner party of merely eight would ever be able to consume. Lady Catherine had a habit of ordering a grandiose meal for her guests, even when there were very few of them, as a means of flaunting her auspicious wealth. Richard knew that there was no need for this; her vast coffers were made abundantly clear by the rich furniture, her expensive attire, the decorations scattered about, the fine window glazing, and even the silken drapery.

“Colonel Fitzwilliam,” Mr. Collins said in one of the moments when Lady Catherine was chewing a bite of beef and could not speak, “might I inquire as to when your esteemed cousin, Mr. Darcy, whom I had the honor of meeting last autumn in Hertfordshire, where Longbourn, the estate which I will eventually inherit, is – do you know when he will be traveling to Rosings, perhaps? I know he must be eager to visit his estimable aunt and cousin.”

Richard blinked and, looking around, discovered that everyone but Mrs. Collins was gazing at him with avid interest.

“Erm, as to that, I am not certain of his plans,” he declared. “Darcy has quite a lot of business associated with Pemberley, and his man of business works in the City.”

Lady Catherine was now scowling ferociously. “I see no reason why that would keep Darcy in Town! It is less than five and twenty miles to London, and the mails run quickly enough.”

Richard felt a brief temptation to tell the truth, that Darcy was searching for a wife during the Season, but of course he could not. That would be unkind to poor Anne, and it would be entirely inappropriate to share family business with the parson and his own family.

He gave some minor remark in return, and then asked Lady Catherine about the new epergne in the middle of the table, a lavish piece made of silver, with numerous candles on it.

Lady Catherine, always delighted to discuss her possessions, eagerly described how she acquired it and how much it cost, and the dinner dragged on to its painful end.

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Richard’s Sitting Room

Rosings

Eleven O’clock

Richard sank into a wingbacked chair, exhaling harshly as he tilted his head back to gaze up at the ceiling. He was beside the hearth in his private sitting room attached to his assigned bedchamber, where a fire crackled merrily. As a blood relation, Richard was situated in the family wing, only a few doors down from where Lady Catherine and his Cousin Anne had undoubtedly retired to bed. Despite his rich and comfortable surroundings, Richard was in a sour mood.

His evening had been horribly tiresome. First, he had been forced to listen to his aunt prattle on for the entirety of dinner, and then afterward he had indulged in a glass of port with the men, whose fellowship he found dull and irritating. Mr. Collins was of a mind to never let those in his company forget the many virtues of his mistress, and Sir William was eager to engage with him in kind. Richard, of course, was no longer awed by the finery of Rosings Park and had spent far too much time around his aunt to have any pretenses about her alleged goodness.

After they had enjoyed a drink together, the three of them had joined the women in the drawing room and played cards. This, clearly, meant another lengthy period of enduring Lady Catherine’s imperiousness, and Mr. Collins’s fawning, and Miss de Bourgh’s attendant fussing over her. Richard had eventually given into exasperation and, citing his journey as an excuse, slipped away for a walk around the grounds before retiring to his rooms.

Richard moaned, unhappy at the prospect of days, and perhaps weeks, more of such evenings. But then, as was his habit, he turned his attention onto his blessings. He had spent many months in a tent on the Peninsula, with the wind whistling through the gaps, eating rabbit stew and slogging through icy mud. Compared to that, being here at Rosings, warm and well fed, provided definite advantages, even if he did have to listen to Lady Catherine drone on and on about everything and nothing.

To his considerable surprise, a tap at the door interrupted his contemplations.

“Come in,” he called and was startled when his cousin Anne and her companion, Mrs. Jenkinson, entered the room and pushed the door shut behind them.

“Richard, may I speak to you?” Anne asked in a low voice.

“Of course, of course!” the colonel replied, recovering his aplomb. He rose from his seat near the fire and gestured for his cousin to take it and then pulled two chairs closer to the fire for himself and Mrs. Jenkinson.

“Cousin,” Anne said when all were seated, “I apologize for coming so late, but I saw your light under the door, and as an army man, I daresay you are used to staying up late, even in a place as wearisome as Rosings.”

Richard did not quite know what to say to this; there was a dryness in his cousin’s tone that was different from Miss de Bourgh’s usual speech patterns.

“However, I like early nights,” Anne continued, “so I will get right to the point. What is Darcy really doing in London?”

The colonel gulped, blinked, and prevaricated, “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean, Richard,” Anne said severely. “Darcy always comes to Rosings in the spring, and this year he did not. Moreover, just because I do not talk a great deal does not mean that I am unobservant. You definitely changed the subject when asked about Darcy’s decision to stay in London. Has he, perhaps, found another woman to marry?”

He jerked in surprise and then, staring at Anne closely in the wavering light of the fire, made a discovery. “You do not wish to marry Darcy, do you?”

Anne leaned back in her chair, stared at him, and inclined her head. “No, I do not.”

Richard sighed in relief and said, “He has not found a lady to marry, no, but he is searching. He is of the view that he and you do not suit well.”

“And he is entirely correct. I merely wish that he had realized that earlier.”

The colonel frowned and glanced at Mrs. Jenkinson, and Anne said, “You need not worry about my companion. She is completely discreet at all times.”

Richard, looking intently at Mrs. Jenkinson, was amazed to note the changes in her eyes, face, and posture. When Lady Catherine was present, Mrs. Jenkinson exuded servility and spent most of her time either being silent or asking Anne if she was warm enough or had eaten enough. Now, the lady’s gray eyes were clear and her back straight.

“Why do I feel as if I am in the middle of some grand conspiracy?” he demanded with a lift of an eyebrow.

Anne produced a cheeky smile and said, “You may not be as intellectual as Darcy, but you are far more aware of your surroundings. Yes, Richard, Mrs. Jenkinson and I have been discussing my options, and we are hoping that perhaps you can help me.”

Richard felt a deep and abiding unease settle in his soul.

“Help you how?” he asked suspiciously.

Anne smiled. “I am glad you asked.”