Page 14 of The Difference of a Darcy
Charlotte looked on the verge of tears.
And Mr. Collins—of all people—was gaping at her.
Elizabeth’s fury snapped into place like a well-fitted glove. If no one else would speak, she would.
She stepped forward, her voice clear and composed. “He did propose to one of his cousins, your ladyship,” she said evenly. “Sadly, she declined.”
The silence that followed was absolute.
Lady Catherine blinked. Mr. Collins let out a strangled sound, part cough, part whimper. Charlotte's breath hitched audibly beside her.
Elizabeth did not waver.
Lady Catherine recovered first, her features tightening into a mask of affronted dignity.
“Shedeclined?” she repeated, as if the word itself were offensive.
“Yes, your ladyship,” Elizabeth said with perfect calm. “It was not a good match.”
Across the room, Darcy stirred slightly, but Elizabeth refused to look at him. She could feel his gaze pressing at the edge of her vision like an itch she would not scratch.
“She would rather remain a burden on her family,” Lady Catherine said with a sneer, “than secure a respectable living and provide for her future?”
“It was not, I believe, the living she objected to,” Elizabeth replied. “Nor the security. Rather, the two people were so different in character that the match would not have been a happy one.”
Mr. Collins gave a soft wheeze, his color shifting toward puce.
Lady Catherine turned a withering glare upon him. “You did not tell me any of this.”
“I—I did not believe it relevant, your ladyship!” he squeaked. “The refusal was most unexpected—and swiftly followed by my second proposal—to Miss Lucas—who, of course, accepted me at once!”
Charlotte flushed deeply but said nothing. Elizabeth felt her own temper start to burn again. She had to look somewhere else, anywhere to calm her feelings, and so she glanced—just briefly—at Darcy.
He was still watching her.
No, not watching—studying. His brow was slightly furrowed. His posture was tense, but not hostile. Confused, perhaps. And if she were not mistaken, troubled.
What right didhehave to look troubled?
Turning her attention back to Lady Catherine, Elizabeth said, “And I can assure you that all of my sisters and I are very happy that our dear friend will one day be the mistress of Longbourn.”
Lady Catherine's mouth tightened into something between a grimace and a sneer. Mr. Collins blinked rapidly, uncertain whether he had just been complimented or shamed.
Charlotte looked as though she might either cry or fall to the floor. Elizabeth reached out and took her friend’s hand. "Charlotte—that is, Mrs. Collins—is a good woman with a kind heart and practical nature. She will make Mr. Collins a much better wife than any of my father’s daughters could have.”
She felt Charlotte squeeze her hand tightly. The room was silent as the occupants all watched Lady Catherine closely for a reaction.
Darcy, though she did not dare look again, shifted slightly on his feet.
Lady Catherine's fan snapped open with unnecessary force.
“Well,” she said at last, voice cutting, “I supposesomewomen must be content with what their temperament and circumstances allow. Though I cannot approve of disobedience in daughters.”
“No more can my father,” Elizabeth replied sweetly. “Which is why he will not force any of us to marry against our inclinations.”
Charlotte stirred beside her. It was subtle—but Elizabeth saw it. The flicker of gratitude in her downcast eyes. The faint lift of her chin.
Lady Catherine, apparently deciding she had been insulted but unable to isolate the particulars, waved her hand again. “Very well, then. Why are you all standing about? Take your seats. Where is the tea? Why has it not yet come?”
