Page 40 of Mr. Darcy's Folly
“That ‘girl’ was injured on our property, Mother. And Miss Bennet is quite right. Richard explained it last night, though you apparently did not listen. We all disregarded Darcy’s repeated warnings.” Miss de Bourgh moved into the chamber, her slight frame somehow commanding attention despite her mother’s imposing presence. Her brows pinched together, and Elizabeth’s hand moved unconsciously to hide her bruised cheek. Miss de Bourgh’s gaze met hers, and Elizabeth read an apology there.
“The rest of us did not wish to take on the vexation of opposing you, and this is the consequence of our inaction. It is a miracle that Darcy and Miss Bennet were not killed.” She took a steadying breath and straightened her thin shoulders. “We both know that I am the legal mistress here, and I will not allow you to remove Miss Bennet from the house. None of this is her fault.”
Lady Catherine’s visage twisted in dismay. “But surely you must see that her presence here, with Darcy—”
“She is not with Darcy, as you can see,” Miss de Bourgh said quietly, nodding at Elizabeth. “Though I believe he would not mind if she were.”
Her mother gasped. “Anne, you must think of your future!”
Miss de Bourgh’s voice softened. “I have, Mother. And my future is here. Even if Darcy wished to marry me, I do not wish to marry him.”
“Whyever not?” Lady Catherine cried.
Elizabeth had the same question.
“Rosings is my home and my estate. Why would I give that up to move to his? Besides, I would miss you.”
Something tender passed briefly across Lady Catherine’s features before being masked by her habitual hauteur. She opened her mouth to speak again, but Miss de Bourgh was not finished.
“The only reason I would move so far away was if I loved my husband, and I do not love Darcy. Not in that way.”
Lady Catherine’s eyes flashed with indignation as she gathered herself, her tone regaining its imperious edge. “I am not to be placated by modern sensibilities.”
Miss de Bourgh interposed gently but firmly, “Mother, I am not attempting to placate you. It is past time for that. You know that wishing for a thing does not make it so, and this wish will not be fulfilled. Like the folly, I did not wish to argue with you, but after this, I am done with being quiet.” She paused, then smiled, amused. “Furthermore, just a few days ago you told me how refreshing you found Miss Bennet’s conversation. You like her, Mother. Do not try to deny it now.”
“Well.” Lady Catherine drew herself up, though with notably less rigidity than before. “I suppose one must agree that she shows an uncommon understanding for a young woman of her station. But had I known she was doing so for Darcy’s benefit—”
“Oh, I can promise you, Lady Catherine,” Charlotte interjected, “it is not for Mr. Darcy’s benefit. She has been her same impertinent self since she was a child.”
Lady Catherine’s eyes narrowed as she evaluated Elizabeth. “Hmph. Then I suppose she may stay.”
Miss de Bourgh smiled, a little brighter this time, and made no attempt to remind her mother that it was not her decision to make. “You are very kind, Mother.”
“Yes,” Lady Catherine agreed.
With that grudging concession, her ladyship retreated from the room.
“Do let the servants know if the two of you require anything,” Miss de Bourgh said to Charlotte. “Rest well, Miss Bennet.”
Once they were alone again, Elizabeth turned to her friend. “I am not sure what just happened.”
Charlotte’s eyes danced with suppressed mirth. “I believe, my dear Eliza, that we have just witnessed the true mistress of Rosings Park assuming her authority. And,” she added with a knowing look, “I believe you have also discovered who holds a tendre for you, as your dear friend might have intimated once or twice before. Did you know he visited the parsonage and tarried for more than half an hour yesterday? I believe he had some hopes of seeing you there.”
Elizabeth sank back against the pillows, her lips curving into a bemused smile, and ignored Charlotte’s jibe about Mr. Darcy. “I confess, I had not thought Miss de Bourgh capable of such decisive action.”
“Perhaps she was inspired to protect Mr. Darcy’s heart,” Charlotte said meaningfully.
At the mention of Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth’s heart quickened. “Is there any news of him?”
“He rests,” Charlotte said carefully, studying Elizabeth’s face. “Colonel Fitzwilliam has been directing his care. Though I understand he was lucid enough in the night to express concern for your well-being. He asked the colonel to bar his aunt access to you last night.”
Elizabeth could not quite suppress the flutter of pleasure that rose in her breast at this evidence of Mr. Darcy’s regard. She felt a pleasant warmth spread across her cheeks, and she turned her face toward the window, hoping Charlotte would attribute the flush to the morning sun. “Perhaps sheoughtto have come then. For I would not have been able to wake.”
What a strange turn of events, she mused, that she should find herself not only grateful for Mr. Darcy’s protection but concerned for his well-being, yearning for his company.
“Are you hungry?” Charlotte asked. “You slept through dinner last night.”
Elizabeth nodded, and her friend rang for a maid.
