Page 151 of Colour My World
Darcy took his seat at Lady Catherine’s right. Across from him sat Georgiana. Anne de Bourgh faced her mother. Lady Catherine presided like Britannia astride the Channel—stern,unmoved, and clad in black satin edged with jet.
She surveyed them all.
“Georgiana, sit upright. A lady’s spine is not a cat’s tail.”
Georgiana complied without protest, placing her table linen in her lap with a grace that silenced any further remark. “Of course, Auntie.”
Lady Catherine glared. She turned to Darcy. “You will be pleased to know,” she declared, “that Rosings has sent seven dozen parcels to the Kent parish poor. Flour, suet, currants, and a strong black tea.”
“No brandy?” Darcy asked.
“That would signify waste,” Lady Catherine replied.
“Drinking is labour, of a kind.” He turned to Anne. “Is it not?”
She raised her glass in salute. “Mother is a true general of charity.”
Lady Catherine sniffed. “I know how to direct a household. Some do not.”
Darcy met Georgiana’s gaze. She looked amused. There was something in her bearing now that had not been there before. She had found her line.
Anne spoke. “We have also sent books.”
Lady Catherine turned her head as though Anne had suggested opera in the stables. “A folly. The poor do not read.”
“They might.” Anne buttered her bread with meticulous care. “If someone gave them something worth reading.”
Darcy choked quietly into his wine.
Lady Catherine stared at Anne as though she had spoken in tongues. “You have been spending too much time with Georgiana.”
“I enjoy her company,” Anne replied, reaching for the salt with the air of a duchess at ease.
Darcy glanced between them. His sister had grown into her strength. And his cousin, it seemed, had been biding hers.
Anne leant in towards him. “It seems you are outnumbered, Darcy.”
“I am content to be so.”
Lady Catherine gestured to a footman. “So long as no one mentions Athenian abstractions or German composers, we shall have peace.”
Her eyes flicked towards Darcy. “And certainly, no mention of weddings.”
“I agree,” Darcy replied.
“You do? Have your affections become unentangled?” Lady Catherine asked.
“My affections are not entangled.” He inclined his nose. “They are fixed.”
Lady Catherine narrowed her gaze. “You cannot be serious.”
Anne, without raising her eyes from her plate, said, “He is.”
Lady Catherine exhaled through her nose and returned to the goose. “Well. Let us hope she can manage cutlery.”
Anne sipped her wine. “Miss Elizabeth reads Greek, Mother.”
Lady Catherine’s knife paused above her plate. Then, without comment, she resumed cutting.
