Page 36 of The Cherry Trees of Rosings
Anger and disbelief vied for control on the older lady’s face. The former won out.
“What I believe her ladyship is attempting to convey is how delicate the matter has become,” Mr. Collins said quickly. “Colonel Fitzwilliam, I entreat you to act without hesitation! God is witness to the misfortunes cast upon Miss de Bourgh. What must be going through the heart of a mother to watch her child be so bereaved!”
Elizabeth glanced at Miss de Bourgh.The latter appeared just as unbothered as her cousin, resting as she was on her usual settee near the fireplace. Her eyes were fixed on the crackling flames. A blankness in them.
“That is quite enough, Mr. Collins!”
Lady Catherine thumped her staff on the carpet again.
“As you say, your ladyship!”
Mr. Collins shrank back in his seat.
“I simply cannot understand the cause for such stubbornness, nephew!” Lady Catherine continued. “I have letters from Lord Matlock in my possession that are in agreement to this match. And Darcy himself was on his way here—as he does each year—to meet his dear Anne. You know that very well.”
Her face was well and truly red.
“How can you hold us back from going to him now? When time is of the essence!”
She whacked the floor with her staff a few more times.Thump. Thump. Thump!
Elizabeth looked away from the diminutive creature on the settee as her heart squeezed painfully. Her fingers tightened around the handle of her tea cup.
Bitter blackness greeted her from the depths of the fine china.
“Indeed! Her ladyship is right, Colonel Fitzwilliam, as she always is!” Mr. Collins piped in. “Delay may prove most unfortunate!”
Elizabeth swallowed the lukewarm tea.
“Charlotte, I cannot bear it anymore!”
Elizabeth spoke in a whispered rush, gripping her friend’s arm just as they were about to enter the parsonage.
They were returning much later than usual from Rosings. But that was to be expected.
“What is the matter, Eliza?” Charlotte looked at her with concern.
Mr. Collins and Maria had already stepped inside, and they could hear the former’s voice echoing out of the open door as he berated Janet, the all-works maid, about something or another. Elizabeth pulled Charlotte closer to the flowers growing by the porch.
“Oh, Charlotte! I wish I could see him!” she said. Despair tinged her voice.She was trying hard to hold back the tears prickling in her eyes. But she knew not how much longer she would succeed.
“Mr. Darcy?” The concern on Charlotte’s face grew deeper. “Why? Is something the matter?” She glanced at the open doorway. Nobody had come out yet asking after them.
“Yes,” Elizabeth said, trying to compose herself. She twisted her fingers into her skirt.
“All that talk in Rosings was… well, it was distressing! And I just…” Her voice grew hoarse. “I just wish I could see Mr. Darcy in flesh, wherever he is convalescing. But I cannot. And I dread the moment his spirit disappears forever.”
Elizabeth raised her eyes skywards to stop the tears she knew were imminent. But words kept pouring out of her.
“I just… I do not know how, Charlotte… but I feel Mr. Darcy’s tether to this world is thinning.”
A singular tear rolled down one cheek.
“Oh!” Elizabeth laughed without mirth, swiping at it. “I cannot believe I have become such a watering pot! What a wretch I am!”
“Oh, Eliza…” Charlotte whispered, gripping her hand tightly.
Elizabeth looked at her friend. “I just–”
