Consequences (16 page)

Wise Charlotte!
Elizabeth told herself morosely.
But I did not listen. I thought myself uniquely qualified in judging the character of others, and I did not even know my own!

She looked down at her hands in her lap and then held out her left hand at arm’s length, looking at the bare ring finger.

That finger might have worn a ring of gold, set there by Mr. Darcy
, she thought.
I threw away comfort, security, and respectability in a fit of self-righteous anger. I have thrown away a future that held more felicity and happiness than I was capable of understanding.

It was not long before her mood was as forlorn as her sister’s, and the two of them sat at adjacent windows staring out at the dreary January skies of Plymouth.

***

In early March of 1814, an unexpected opportunity arose for both Elizabeth and Jane. Two daughters of one of their uncle’s business associates had married several years previously, and as chance would have it, their husbands owned homes about five miles from each other and only about twenty miles from Plymouth. Both girls married on the same day, and now each had children approaching the age at which a governess would be very agreeable. Mr. Jamieson, the associate of their uncle who previously dined with them and met both Elizabeth and Jane, was impressed with their character, manners, and sense. When Mr. Gardiner mentioned both were interested in finding a position outside his household, Mr. Jamieson suggested their names to his daughters. Mr. Gardiner escorted Jane and Elizabeth on an interview, and all concerned were favourably impressed. Accordingly, Elizabeth took service with Mrs. Peters, while Jane took service with Mrs. Stewart. Mr. Gardiner was satisfied with the respectability of their employers, but he was rather sad that his nieces elected this course. He still thought both better suited for marriage and motherhood, but the upheavals of the past years became simply too much for the girls. They much preferred to settle
somewhere
, at
some task
, rather than sit idle in his home. At least they were close enough that they could still take holiday with the Gardiner family, and visits between the sisters were not only acceptable to their employers but actively encouraged. So, he was forced at last to accept the choice made by his nieces.

Less agreeable to Mr. Gardiner was the fact that, following the move of his family from Gracechurch Street to Plymouth, communications from his sisters, which had not been very regular since Mr. Bennet’s death, declined almost to the vanishing point. Only Mr. Philips responded to his letters with any regularity, and communication had ceased for the moment since the Philips family was in the process of moving to Surrey. Equally distressing had been the continuing lack of success in prying loose his niece’s inheritance from Mr. Collins. Neither he nor his solicitor even bothered to respond to letters from Mr. Philips or his own solicitor in London. Mr. Gardiner initially assumed they would eventually be able to shame the clergyman into doing his Christian duty, but that prospect looked to be dimming to extinction. Mr. Gardiner worried about the prospects of his sister and his other nieces as well, but he could think of nothing more he could do. Perhaps when the summer came, he might plan a trip to Surrey and discuss the situation with Mr. Philips face to face, but his hopes in the matter were dwindling.

Chapter 9

“Consequences are unpitying. Our deeds carry
their terrible consequences, quite apart from any
fluctuations that went before—consequences
that are hardly ever confined to ourselves.”

—George Eliot (Mary Anne Evans),
English novelist, journalist and translator

Monday, March 21, 1815

Darcy could not help glancing over at the Parsonage as his coach passed by. He was rather disappointed to see no one since he expected his aunt’s servile parson to be out by the gate, offering obeisance to his ‘betters’ with his buffoon-like bowing, but there was no one in sight and certainly not the person he most wanted to see.

When he glanced back to Colonel Fitzwilliam, he saw the concern in his eyes and felt himself flush, as he knew his cousin read his mind.

“Looking for Miss Elizabeth, I warrant,” said Fitzwilliam sympathetically, and Darcy nodded.

“I know it is hopeless, but I cannot stop myself,” agreed Darcy, attempting to calm his nerves. Fitzwilliam realized there was nothing to say, and the two cousins lapsed into silence until the coach reached the front door to Rosings.

Darcy thought his reception by Lady Catherine strange, a mixture of coolness and suppressed glee, but he put it down to having missed his annual visit the two previous years. Part of his decision not to visit was his outrage at the part his aunt played in the ruin of the Bennet family. But the major reason was his reluctance to meet Elizabeth Bennet if she were again visiting her friend. He believed it rather unlikely she would actually visit, especially during Easter, since he expected she would go to any length to avoid meeting the person who caused her such pain. Still, he could not take the chance, so he wrote his excuses to his aunt.

It was not until dinner that the explanation for his aunt’s demeanour was explained. It started with a casual comment by Colonel Fitzwilliam that he had somewhat expected Mr. and Mrs. Collins’ attendance.

“Mrs. Collins died during childbirth more than two years ago,” said Lady Catherine shortly, hardly pausing as she spooned her soup. Both Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam stopped to stare at their aunt in shock.

“Died! More than two years ago?” said Colonel Fitzwilliam in consternation.

“Why did you not mention this in any of your letters?” demanded Darcy.

Lady Catherine shrugged. “It signified little, and it never crossed my mind you would be interested. It was not as if she was a person of any significance, after all. Just a penniless girl from an obscure county. There must be thousands like her who die every week.”

“But she was your parson’s wife!” exclaimed Darcy. “And you knew we were acquainted! Why did you think we would not be interested?”

Lady Catherine did not deign to answer this question, and finally Anne de Bourgh answered it herself.

“Mr. Collins is not my mother’s parson any longer, Darcy. His cousin died the summer before last, and Mr. Collins left in order take up his inheritance. He is now, I believe, acting as a ‘country gentleman.’”

Darcy’s blood turned cold as he realized what she meant. “His cousin, you say? Mr. Bennet from Hertfordshire?”

“The very one, Darcy,” said Anne. “The father of that Miss Bennet whom you met when you visited last.”

Darcy could tell Lady Catherine was greatly displeased by her daughter imparting information she would have preferred either to keep hidden or to disclose at her own pleasure, but he was past caring what his aunt might or might not prefer.

“And you did not mention this either, Aunt,” Darcy said with cold intensity. “Yet you knew that both Richard and I knew Miss Elizabeth Bennet well. In fact, you wrote me several letters detailing the disaster that befell the Bennet family. Detailing it with considerable relish, I might add. But somehow you did not feel it significant to mention that your parson inherited their estate? To dispossess Miss Elizabeth and her sisters, I presume, though I am hard put to justify such maliciousness on your part.”

“Yes, Aunt Catherine,” said Fitzwilliam intensely. “I am waiting to hear why you would withhold such news.”

Lady Catherine only shrugged, refusing to meet the eyes of either nephew. “The legalities were clear, though that dim-witted parson did not seem to realize any of them. I had to step in and have my solicitor examine the documents so he could explain matters to that fool Collins and inform him how he should act. Even then, he refused to see common sense; he went behind my back and offered marriage to that contemptible Elizabeth Bennet! Luckily, she had as little sense as he had and refused his offer. Only then was I able to convince him to follow my solicitor’s suggestions.”

Fitzwilliam gave a bark of contemptuous laughter. “Foolish? Miss Elizabeth? Do not make me laugh, Aunt. She would no more accept an offer from that fop Collins than I would lay down with a swine!”

“Foolish I said, and foolish I meant!” Lady Catherine said forcefully, striking the table with the flat of her hand for emphasis. “She could have had her father’s estate simply by accepting his proposal, but the foolish girl did not even deign to send a reply.
Then
I was able to get the man to see the sense of my instructions! My solicitor composed a letter, which Mr. Collins signed, ordering them out of the house before he arrived. I told him he needed to show the neighbourhood that he was a man of the clergy and of firmness, not such a one as would tolerate the shameless behaviour displayed by all the Bennet daughters. Imagine! All of them out before the eldest was married! I said there would be trouble from it, and my prophecy came to pass. All of them were tainted!”

“Not Miss Elizabeth!” exclaimed Fitzwilliam.

“Even her!” responded his aunt. “It may have been her sister who committed the actual sin, but all the sisters could be little different. And you saw for yourself how she refused to act as befitted her station in life!”

“She refused to lick your boots, you mean!” responded Darcy in fury, unable to hold back the anger inspired by the callous attitude of his aunt.

“Darcy!” exclaimed his aunt. “I will not be talked to in such a manner! I demand your immediate apology!”

“You may demand, madam, until the sun gutters to extinction,” replied Darcy in cold wrath, “but I have put up with your haughty disregard for the feelings and opinions of others long enough. I found Miss Elizabeth Bennet and her sister Miss Jane Bennet to be young ladies of splendid respectability and propriety, no matter how their sisters might act. Their conduct might, in fact, be a model for those who are much in need of correction, despite the difference in their social standing!”

Darcy’s glare left little doubt in the mind of Lady Catherine to whom he referred, and the mere thought of his temerity to make such a charge sent a bolt of rage through her. She opened her mouth to so inform him, but he rode her down, refusing to yield. “In actual point of fact, Aunt, had it not been for my own disdainful pride and my own disdain for the feelings of others, my offer of marriage to Miss Elizabeth might not have met with refusal.”

“Darcy!” Lady Catherine almost shrieked. “You actually made that little snip an offer of marriage? I could see that she charmed you, but, disgusting as the attraction was, I never dreamed that you would so forget yourself as to actually make her an offer!”

“Which she justifiably refused, because I am not nearly worthy enough to deserve her!” said Darcy icily to a shocked Lady Catherine. “Goodbye, your ladyship,” he said, bowing to her with cold formality. “Do not bother threatening to have me ejected if I do not apologize immediately. I shall be packed and gone as soon as may be, and it cannot be too soon!”

Having said all he ever intended to say to his aunt, Darcy wasted no more time. He spun on his heel and departed the room, never looking back.

“Well!” exclaimed Lady Catherine furiously after Darcy was gone. “I have never been so badly treated in all my life! Shameful, utterly shameful! Not only is it shocking that the son of my sister would dare speak to me in such a way, it is even more shocking he ever would have considered a connection with that disreputable Bennet family. Would you not agree he has lost his mind, Fitzwilliam?”

“No, madam,” replied her other nephew, rising to his feet. “I join in his opinion of Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and I only wish his suit had been successful, for it would have been the saving of him.” Lady Catherine could only stare at him in astonishment nearly as profound as before as he carefully folded and replaced his napkin on the table and turned to his cousin Anne.

“I am very sorry to have to bid you goodbye prematurely, Cousin. I am sure both Darcy and I shall try to maintain some measure of contact with you in the future.” So saying, he stepped over to her and bowed over her hand before turning to his aunt and giving her a punctiliously correct bow.

“I bid you goodbye, Aunt,” replied Fitzwilliam, “for I shall accompany Darcy when he leaves. And though he did not say it and though you are sister to my father and sister to Darcy’s mother, do not doubt me when I say that neither of us shall ever return.”

***

“What will you do now, Darcy?”

Fitzwilliam’s voice seemed to startle Darcy out of the silence he maintained since leaving Rosings. He turned his face from the window of his coach to face his cousin.

“I shall have to find her, Richard,” he said simply.

“Miss Elizabeth?” asked Fitzwilliam. He did not show incredulity or disapproval; he simply wanted confirmation.

Darcy nodded. “With all the mistakes I have made, I believe I made another when I found Elizabeth’s sister at that house in London. I was so terribly offended when I saw how stupid and uncaring Lydia Bennet was that I was certain all hope was gone. But my error was more fundamental—I should not even have made the attempt to find Lydia Bennet. I simply should have gone to Longbourn and ignored all the foolishness about ‘ruin’ and ‘scandal.’ I even wonder if I should not have informed the Bennet family of what I learned about their daughter in London.”