Darcy in Want of a Wife

Chapter 41

Rosings

The Next Day

“Charlotte! Charlotte!”

Charlotte Collins wiped her sweaty forehead and looked toward the open kitchen door, just as her husband more bounced than walked into the room.

“My dear!” the man cried out, “Lady Catherine has returned! I just saw her carriage pass our humble abode!”

“That is truly wonderful, Husband,” Charlotte replied.

“It is, it is! But come, my dear, you must change so that we may call upon our great and munificent patroness and welcome her back to Kent!”

His wife cast a glance at the stew bubbling on the stove and said, “My dear husband, do you not think we should wait an hour or two, perhaps, so that she has time to refresh herself? We would not wish to arrive too early after the hot and dusty journey from Town.”

Mr. Collins’s expression of enthusiasm gave way to wide-eyed concern. “My dear, you are entirely correct! It would be rude indeed to appear now! You are very wise!”

“Thank you. Now, if you are amenable to an early dinner, we could walk over in two hours, perhaps?”

“Yes, and a fine dinner it will be, my dear. The stew smells delicious! In the meantime, I must finish my sermon.”

The rector scampered away, and Charlotte returned to the stove, smiling. Mr. Collins was absurd in some ways, but he was a kind and complimentary husband, and she appreciated that greatly.

/

Guest Suite

Rosings

“What do you think?” Anne de Bourgh asked.

Elizabeth looked around and managed to keep her face pleasantly neutral. “It will suit me very well.”

Anne laughed at these courteous words, and Darcy shot her a startled look. Even now, he found himself surprised at his cousin’s cheerful demeanor and frequent amusement.

“I promise that I did not choose the furniture here, or anywhere in Rosings for that matter,” Anne said, clearly displeased by the décor.

Elizabeth chuckled and considered the silken curtains, and the Oriental rug, the elaborate writing desk, and the gilded four-poster bed. “It is rather … ostentatious.”

“The furnishings are gaudy and often vulgar,” Anne said, “but Lady Catherine combines poor taste with a yearning for the finest of everything. I assume you noticed her ridiculously elaborate garments when she appeared at Matlock House. Her idea of elegance is to wear what is most expensive, which is a boon to her dressmaker.”

“I have observed that you are wearing simpler clothes these last weeks, and they suit you well,” Elizabeth remarked, studying Anne’s blue muslin gown and blue and green shawl.

“Yes, I am indebted to both Lady Matlock and her daughters for helping me learn how to dress in a way which makes the best of my looks, along with being far more comfortable. But enough of that. I am certain you wish to rest for a few minutes, and I would enjoy a nap. Dinner will be at six o’clock, if that is all right with you?”

“Yes. We much prefer country hours,” Darcy said.

“What would you think about inviting Mr. and Mrs. Collins to dinner?” Elizabeth asked. “I know it is short notice, but perhaps the sooner they learn of the change in the oversight of Rosings, the better?”

“An excellent idea,” Anne said approvingly and retreated, shutting the door behind her.

Silence fell between man and wife, and then Darcy said, “I feel badly about Anne. I should have seen earlier that Lady Catherine was mistreating her.”

“You are not responsible for every problem in all of England,” Elizabeth said, walking over and wrapping her arms around her husband’s chest. “In any case, Anne managed to free herself apart from your assistance, and I suspect that she has gained considerable confidence and courage because of it.”

“You are correct, of course,” he replied, embraced her, and kissed her head. “What would I do without you, Elizabeth?”

“You would be sad without me, and I would be sad without you,” his wife said simply. “Now, Anne is quite right that it would be good to take a nap. Would you care to join me?”

“Very much!”

/

Drawing Room

Rosings

Later

“Mr. and Mrs. Collins,” the butler announced, and Anne, who had deliberately taken her mother’s throne-like chair by the window, rose with a gracious countenance.

The parson and his wife stepped forward into the room, arm in arm, and Anne had to suppress a smile at the look of total bewilderment on Mr. Collins’s face. Mrs. Collins, she observed, looked merely calm and pleasant.

“Miss de Bourgh!” Mr. Collins finally exclaimed, his plump face turning this way and that, obviously searching for his patroness. “Good day! May I ask where your esteemed mother, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, is? I hope she is not ill?”

Anne inclined her head graciously and gestured to the most comfortable loveseat in the room. Not that this was saying a great deal, as none of the furniture was particularly pleasant to sit on, especially not the chair she currently occupied.

“Please do sit down, Mr. and Mrs. Collins. Thank you for joining me on such short notice.”

“It is, of course, our greatest pleasure to serve the family de Bourgh in any way we can,” Mr. Collins said breathlessly.

“Thank you, you are very kind,” Anne replied. “As for my mother, I fear that she has fallen ill and is currently staying with her brother, the Earl of Matlock.”

Mr. Collins leaned forward, his brown eyes piteous, and said, “Lady Catherine ill? How very dreadful.”

“It is indeed most upsetting,” Mrs. Collins agreed. “We will pray for her.”

“Indeed, we will, many times a day, I promise,” Mr. Collins concurred. “But what … oh dear, however will we manage without Lady Catherine’s benevolent wisdom? What will happen to the estate? To us all?”

“Please do not distress yourself, Mr. Collins,” a male voice declared from the doorway.

The parson and his wife looked toward the door, and both rose immediately, Mr. Collins out of a sense of awed courtesy, the lady because she was pleased to see her friend Elizabeth.

“Mr. Darcy!” Mr. Collins cried out.

“Elizabeth!” Charlotte exclaimed.

“Cousin Elizabeth!” her husband said belatedly. “Whatever are you doing here?”

The couple entered the room arm in arm, and Mr. Darcy said, “Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Collins. I am happy to inform you that Elizabeth and I were married a few days ago, and she is now Mrs. Darcy.”

Mr. Collins turned entirely white at these words and wobbled a trifle, but Charlotte, briefly forgetting her role as devoted wife, hurried forward and embraced her old friend. “Elizabeth! Oh, how wonderful! Many congratulations to you both.”

“But … but it cannot be?” Mr. Collins declared, looking wildly at Darcy, and then at Anne. “Sir, everyone knows that you are engaged to Miss de Bourgh, the fairest flower in all of Kent! You cannot be married to my cousin!”

“Mr. Collins,” Anne said, rising elegantly from her seat and taking a few steps forward. “There was some thought that perhaps my cousin and I would eventually marry, but we both realized some time ago that we did not suit. I am overjoyed for Elizabeth and Darcy. They are most compatible and will be happy together.”

“We will,” Darcy said and stared so menacingly that Collins quailed before that gentleman’s fierce gaze.

“Indeed,” the parson finally said feebly. “Many congratulations to you both, of course! Erm, does, erm, does Lady Catherine know that you are…”

“Married?” Anne interpolated brightly. “There can be no doubt that she does.”

/

Bingley’s Leased House

Half Moon Street

London

The carriage came to a gentle stop in front of the Bingleys’ London House, and a footman jumped down and opened the door to the carriage. Mr. Bennet stepped down and turned to hand down his third daughter, who descended to the street and looked around with interested eyes.

The door to the house nearest them opened, and Jane Bingley hurried down the steps and engulfed Mary in a warm hug.

“Father! Mary!” she cried. “Come in! Come in!”

Father and daughters climbed the stairs to the main floor, which was opened with a flourish by the butler.

“Do you wish to refresh yourselves, or would you like some iced lemonade?” Jane asked, as Mr. Bennet and Mary looked around the vestibule curiously.

“I am well enough,” Mary said quietly, and Mr. Bennet said, “I would appreciate a few minutes to myself. Perhaps one of your servants could guide me to my bedchamber?”

“Of course,” Jane said, swooping forward to plant a kiss on her father’s cheek before looking at the butler who said, “I will ensure that the servants place the luggage in the appropriate guest rooms and will guide Mr. Bennet to his chamber.”

“Thank you,” Jane said. She linked Mary’s arm in her own and guided her toward the drawing room. Mary followed, marveling at her sister’s joie de vivre . Jane had long been a calm and kindly woman, but she was noticeably more cheerful now. Her marriage to Charles Bingley, himself a congenial and outgoing gentleman, was doubtless part of the alteration. But Mary thought it likely that Jane had, in spite of her outward serenity, been wearied by the frenetic atmosphere of Longbourn, with a shrill Mrs. Bennet and a boisterous Kitty and Lydia. Since Jane was married and mistress of her own home, she likely felt more at ease with displaying her own exuberance on occasion.

“How are you doing, my dear?” Jane asked, turning a concerned look on her sister, and Mary shook herself free of her thoughts.

“I am well,” she said simply.

Jane tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “Mary, I am aware that you have often been neglected by us all, and you have been through a terrible ordeal. Are you truly all right?”

Mary felt a strange warmth in her chest at these words. She had been largely ignored for many years and had accepted that nothing would ever change, choosing instead to lean on God for comfort when her mother disdained her for lack of beauty and her father laughed at her attempts to become a truly accomplished woman.

And then, within the space of a few months, everything had changed. Jane had married, Lydia had been sent away, and Kitty had grown into a good friend.

Even the horror of her abduction had its silver lining; Mrs. Bennet had never before been so affectionate toward her third daughter! Even though Mary was certain that her mother’s concern and care would not last long, it had been lovely.

“I am well enough,” she said to Jane, obediently taking a seat on a comfortable chair. “I still have the occasional nightmare, but those are diminishing.”

“I am glad,” her eldest sister replied, just as a maid entered with tea service. Jane poured tea, added a splash of milk, and handed it over to Mary, who took it gratefully.

“Before Father comes down, I wish to tell you what we have learned about Wickham,” Jane said. “It was Lady Catherine, Darcy’s aunt, who was behind it all, not my sister-in-law, Caroline.”

Mary stared in wonder. “Lady Catherine de Bourgh? Our cousin, Mr. Collins’s, patroness?”

“The one and the same.”

“And you are certain?”

“Oh, yes, she has admitted to it. No, she boasted of it. She wanted to ruin the Bennet name so that Darcy would not marry Elizabeth.”

Mary took another sip of her tea and realized her hands were trembling slightly. She placed the cup carefully onto a side table and turned to stare at her sister. “Is she mad?”

Jane blew out a breath and said, “She truly might be. In any case, her brother, the Earl of Matlock, is dealing with her. She will be confined to a small estate in Yorkshire for the rest of her life.”

Mary gasped and asked, “Truly?”

“Truly. Elizabeth’s marriage to Darcy forced Matlock’s hand; the earl is a sensible man and realized that if the Bennet name is in any way stigmatized, the scandal will spread to the Darcys and Matlocks and de Bourghs. I genuinely believe the earl is horrified at his sister’s actions, but he might have been less stern with Lady Catherine if the marriage had not already taken place.”

“I suppose it is the way of the world,” Mary said, “though I wish men would do what is right regardless of circumstances.”

“We all do, but enough of that, my dear sister. The Darcys are currently in Kent, helping Anne de Bourgh settle in as the new mistress of Rosings. Charles and I will be working with the Matlocks to ensure that your reputation is not damaged by the events of the last week.”

Mary was all amazement that an earl would care about her personal well-being, though of course, it was not her reputation that the earl was concerned about.

“How will you do that?” she asked.

“Well, my first step is to take you to the dressmaker, Sister!”