Page 48 of Miss Bennet's Dragon
“Lady Catherine provided five guineas, which was extremely generous.” Charlotte had more to say, so I waited while leaves crunched under our steps. “Not all the Church approves of binding. But Lady Catherine does approve, and in Kent, she is a force. Our wedding was officiated by a neighboring rector. We touched the gold while the priest blessed us and said words to summon a draca. It seemed certain. But later…”
“Later?” I prompted.
“That night, we prayed for a successful binding.”
Her tone was odd, but her expression was hard to make out in the dusk. I said cautiously, “Prayed?”
“Yes. Exclusively.” There was no question. I heard her ironic smile.
“Onlyprayed?”
“I was prepared, you know. I am not a romantic, Lizzy, but I understood what happens on a marriage night.”
That was extremely direct. I was not at all sure I understood what happens. “And what happened was… praying.”
“Yes. I even mentioned tales my mother told me, of the great bindings and their passion.” I was quite impressed she said that to me, let alone Mr. Collins. “But of course, those stories are not in the Bible.”
“I see.”
We walked a little way while my face cooled in the evening air.
“Do you wish to bind when you marry?” Charlotte asked.
“I think so.”
I had hesitated, but not because of Charlotte’s concerns. I neither sought nor condemned the status, although I thought it was silly to grant it for binding. And I was fascinated by draca themselves.
But, if binding was involuntary, it was cruel. The more I found draca mysterious and remarkable, the more disturbing it would be to entrap one for life.
“You are such a wonderful friend,” Charlotte said, “that I am inevitably surprised when we differ on anything. I am very content with my life—no, I am very happy. But wearedifferent, Lizzy. You overflow with passion. You should marry for love.”
That was a remarkable thing to be told, and a little frightening.
Lady Catherine’sinvitation to Rosings arrived the next morning.
Mr. Collins was more than excited. “I should not have been surprised by her ladyship’s inviting us to tea. But who”—his hands rose to invoke divine omniscience—“whocould have foreseen an invitation todineat Rosings so immediately after your arrival!”
The afternoon was clear, so we walked the half mile to Rosings. Mr. Collins alternated astonishment at her ladyship’s affability with extensive notes aboutthe park and manor—how many ash trees in that grove, how many pounds it cost for the lead glazing of her ladyship’s windows.
The gardens were expansive, but stiff and formal. The manor, though, was remarkable. The building was large but modern, free of the rambling extensions that distorted many old homes. The famously expensive windows were wide and tall.
I had a particular interest, so I looked for the draca house. But there was nothing. Was it behind the manor? That would be strange.
We were led, with Mr. Collins rapturously commentating, through the entrance hall and antechamber, then into a sitting room.
Her ladyship rose with royal grandeur to receive us. On our walk, Charlotte had insisted that she introduce me. She did so with refreshing simplicity.
Lady Catherine was a tall, weighty old woman with strong features grooved by deep frown-lines. She wore full ball attire, a satin-and-silk golden gown with an ostrich feather in her hair. The effect was of aged majesty.
I learned why Charlotte wrote of her formidable opinions. They began to roll forth even before we sat, each pronouncement ending in dramatic tones followed by a huge indrawn breath, and then, an instant before anyone else dared to offer a topic, the start of the next.
Her daughter, Miss de Bourgh, was around my age but thin and scrunched, and so different from her mother I would have guessed she was a distant relation. She greeted us in a whisper, lifting her fan as if it would be rude to reveal moving lips.
“Miss Bennet,” Lady Catherine said.
Guiltily, I looked up, for my mind was wandering. Thus far, the only audience participation had been enthusiastic nods by Mr. Collins. “Yes, madam?”
“Your trip was satisfactory.”
