Page 70 of Mr. Darcy's Runaway Bride
“Indeed.” Elizabeth placed the letter in her pocket, though her expression remained troubled.
Their tête-à-tête was interrupted by Lady Catherine’s arrival, her imposing figure commanding immediate attention as she swept into the room.
“I trust you have both slept adequately,” she pronounced, taking her seat at the head of the table. “Though I must say, Mrs Darcy, your chambers face east. I have always maintained that exposure to the morning sun is detrimental to a lady’s complexion. When I redecorate the east wing next spring, I shall have the windows reduced in size.”
Elizabeth inclined her head politely. “Your consideration is most kind, Lady Catherine, though I confess I find the morning light rather invigorating.”
Lady Catherine’s nostrils flared at this hint of contradiction, but before she could respond, Lord Matlock entered, forestalling further discussion of window dimensions.
The remainder of breakfast passed in forced conversation dominated by Lady Catherine’s opinions on topics ranging from the proper method of trimming box hedges to the declining standards of musical instruction among young ladies of quality.
Darcy observed Elizabeth throughout, noting the slight tension around her mouth, the careful courtesy with which she responded to his aunt’s pronouncements. Not once did her eyes meet his across the table.
Following breakfast, Lady Catherine proposed a tour of the rose garden for Elizabeth, a suggestion delivered with the force of a command. Darcy watched from the library window as they walked the gravel paths, his aunt gesturing imperiously, Elizabeth maintaining a decorous distance beside her. Lord Matlock, meanwhile, had kept Darcy occupied with endless tasks and conversation.
It was not until afternoon that circumstances provided Darcy a reprieve from family’s supervision. Colonel Fitzwilliam sought him out as he retired to the library, proposing a walk through the sycamore alley that stretched along the eastern boundary of the park. The two settled on a bench near the sculpture garden.
“You appear troubled, Darcy,” his cousin remarked. “Is all well between you and Elizabeth?”
Darcy clasped his hands behind his back, considering how much to reveal. “There has been some tension since our arrival.”
“Lady Catherine and my father’s reception can hardly have helped matters,” Richard observed. “I believe my aunt has now enumerated for Elizabeth no fewer than seventeen deficiencies she perceives in her deportment, education, and connections.”
“It is not merely my aunt’s hostility that concerns me,” Darcy admitted. “Elizabeth received a letter from her sister this morning. Bingley has abruptly quit Netherfield.”
“And this distresses Mrs Darcy?”
“Her sister Jane had formed an attachment to Bingley. His sudden departure has caused her pain.”
“I see.” Richard’s tone suggested deeper understanding. “And might Bingley’s decision have been influenced by advice from a certain quarter?”
Darcy stopped walking, fixing his cousin with a sharp look. “What makes you ask that?”
“I know you, Darcy. Your concern for Bingley’s welfare often leads to intervention.”
A brief internal struggle ensued, pride warring with honesty. Finally, Darcy nodded. “I did advise him to distance himself from Miss Bennet.”
“May I ask your reasoning?”
Darcy resumed walking; his pace measured. “At Netherfield, I overheard a conversation between Elizabeth and her mother. Mrs Bennet was pressing Elizabeth to importune me for financial assistance, specifically to break the entailmenton Longbourn. She spoke openly of her designs upon my fortune, as well as her hopes for Jane’s attachment to Bingley.”
Richard’s eyebrows rose. “I imagine such acquisitive considerations would naturally concern you.”
“Indeed. Combined with my lingering resentment over Elizabeth’s concealment regarding Wickham, I found myself questioning the Bennet family’s motives.” Darcy passed a hand across his brow. “I suggested to Bingley that he test Miss Bennet’s affections by creating distance between them. If her regard was genuine, I argued, it would endure separation.”
“And now you question this judgement?”
“I have reflected much upon it. Miss Bennet’s demeanour is reserved, her manner gentle. It is possible I mistook modesty for indifference.” Darcy’s voice lowered. “And Elizabeth speaks of her sister with such conviction… I begin to think my test was unnecessary and perhaps unjust.”
“Then you must rectify it,” Richard said promptly. “Write to Bingley. A word from you would send him racing back to Hertfordshire.”
“And what of Elizabeth?” Darcy’s voice held tension. “She would be justified in her anger if she learned of my interference.”
“Better she should hear it from you than discover it by other means. Concealment has already caused sufficient damage, has it not?”
Darcy nodded gravely. “I shall speak with her after dinner and write to Bingley first thing tomorrow.”
They returned to the house as the afternoon light waned, Darcy preoccupied with composing both the explanation he would offer Elizabeth and the letter he would send to Bingley. So distracted was he that he barely registered the subtle shift in atmosphere as they entered the drawing room, where Lady Catherine sat with a letter in her hand and a gleam of malicious satisfaction in her eye.
