The Journey (26 page)

“If you will wait right here, my lady, I shall announce you,” the maid said.

“I do not wait,” an imperious voice boomed.

The servant opened the door, and in sailed an older woman dressed in silks and fur, a large feathered bonnet on her head, and a parasol in her hand, the point of which she used as a walking stick.

“Lady Catherine de Bourgh, ma’am,” the maid said quickly.

My aunt, Jane and I all stood immediately and curtseyed.

Lady Catherine de Bourgh!
It was Mr. Darcy’s aunt of whom my cousin, Mr. Collins, was so enthralled. Her eyes swept the room, a disdainful expression about her countenance, before she narrowed her gaze upon Jane.

“You are Miss Elizabeth Bennet, I presume,” she declared.

“No,” I said, stepping forward. “I am Elizabeth Bennet. This is my sister.”

“You?” she said, turning to look me up and down. “Your sister is much prettier. I would have thought my nephew had better taste.” She nodded her head in my aunt’s direction. “And this woman, I suppose, is your mother.”

“No,” I said again, “this is my aunt, Mrs. Gardiner.” My aunt bowed again, a courtesy to which our guest was oblivious. She walked around the room, looking it up and down.

“You have chosen a most unfashionable part of Town in which to reside.”

My aunt looked at me with a frantic expression and then answered as best she could that the house had belonged to her parents and held great sentiment. Before she could finish the sentence, however, Lady Catherine cut her off.

“This must be a most inconvenient sitting-room for the evening in summer. Why, the windows are far too near the street, allowing the noise and stench of London to invade your house.”

Mrs. Gardiner did not attempt to answer that insult, but with great civility, begged her ladyship to take some refreshment. Lady Catherine resolutely declined and then turned her attention to me.

“Miss Elizabeth Bennet, there seemed to be a prettyish kind of small park across the street. I should be glad to take a turn in it, if you will favour me with your company.”

My aunt urged me to go with her, and I hastened to retrieve my pelisse and bonnet from the maid.

I followed the lady out the door as she marched down the steps and into the oncoming traffic, looking neither to her right nor left. Miraculously, the carriages stopped short of running her down. I wondered if she had any idea how closely she courted disaster. She appeared oblivious to everything except the path ahead.

We walked a short distance before she entered an unoccupied copse, whereupon she turned and began her interrogation of me.

“You can be at no loss, Miss Bennet, to understand the reason of my journey hither. Your own heart, your own conscience, must tell you why I come.”

I was astonished. “Indeed, you are mistaken, madam. I have not been at all able to account for the honour of meeting you.”

“You ought to know that I am not to be trifled with. A report of a most alarming nature reached me this week. I was informed that you would, in all likelihood, soon be united to my nephew — my own nephew — Mr. Darcy. Though I know it must be a scandalous falsehood, I instantly resolved on setting off for this place so that I might make my sentiments known to you.”

Now I understood.
The Gazette
had reached Kent.

“If you believed it impossible to be true, I wonder that you took the trouble of coming so far. What could your ladyship propose by it?”

“At once to insist upon having such a report universally contradicted!”

“Your coming to Gracechurch Street to see me and my family will be rather a confirmation of it, if, indeed, such a report is in existence.”

“If!” She coloured with anger. “Do not feign ignorance! Has it not been circulated by yourself? Do you not know that such a report is spread throughout the newspapers for all to see? And can you likewise declare that there is no foundation for it? Has my nephew made you an offer of marriage?”

“Your ladyship has declared it to be impossible.”

“It ought to be so. It must be so, while he retains the use of reason. But your arts and allurements may have made him forget what he owes to himself and to all his family. You may have used this kidnapping scheme to draw him in!”

I began to find it hard to catch my breath. How dare this woman accuse me so! “If I have, I shall be the last person to confess it.”

“Miss Bennet, do you know who I am? I am almost the nearest relation he has in the world and am entitled to know all his dearest concerns.”

“But you are not entitled to know mine, nor will such behaviour as this ever induce me to be explicit.”

She began to stride back and forth, glaring at me each time she made the turn. After a few moments’ parade, she stopped abruptly.

“Let me be rightly understood. This match to which you have the presumption to aspire, can never take place. No, never. Mr. Darcy is engaged to my daughter. Now, what have you to say?”

“Only this: That if he is so, you can have no reason to suppose he will make an offer to me.”

Lady Catherine hesitated for a moment and then replied. “The engagement between them is of a peculiar kind. From their infancy they have been intended for each other. It was the favourite wish of his mother, as well as hers. While in their cradles, we planned the union.”

“What is that to me?” I asked, shocked at her audacity. “If there is no other objection to my marrying your nephew, I shall certainly not be kept from it by knowing that his mother and aunt wished him to marry Miss de Bourgh. Why is he not allowed to make his own choice of bride?”

“Because honour, decorum, prudence — nay, interest, forbid it. Your alliance will be a disgrace. Your name will never even be mentioned by any of his family.”

“These are heavy misfortunes,” I replied, “but the wife of Mr. Darcy must have such extraordinary sources of happiness attached to her situation that she could, upon the whole, have no cause to repine.”

“Obstinate, headstrong girl! I am ashamed of you! I am not used to submitting to any person’s whims. I am not in the habit of brooking disappointment.”

“That will make your ladyship’s situation at present more pitiable, but it will have no effect on me.”

She sank down upon a stone bench placed within the enclosure. “I will not be interrupted! If you were sensible of your own good, you would not wish to quit the sphere in which you have been brought up!”

“By marrying your nephew I should not consider myself as quitting that sphere. He is a gentleman. I am a gentleman’s daughter. So far, we are equal.”

“True,” she said, rising and pointing the parasol at me. “But who was your mother? Who are your uncles and aunts? You cannot imagine me ignorant of their condition.”

Aha! Now I saw the resemblance between nephew and aunt — that abominable pride. I was not to marry Mr. Darcy, but I could not resist baiting the hateful old woman. “Whatever my connections may be, if your nephew does not object to them, they can be nothing to you.”

Her eyes widened as though she had been struck. “Tell me, once for all, are you engaged to him?”

How I hated to oblige Lady Catherine by admitting the truth. I hesitated a moment before answering, “I am not.”

She closed her eyes, relief washing over her countenance. “And will you promise me never to enter into such an engagement?”

“I will make no promise of the kind. I shall not be intimidated into anything so wholly unreasonable. Your ladyship wants Mr. Darcy to marry your daughter, but would my making you a promise make
their
marriage more probable? Allow me to say, Lady Catherine, that the arguments with which you have supported this extraordinary application have been as frivolous as the application was ill-judged. You have widely mistaken my character if you think I can be worked on by such persuasions as these.”

I took several steps away from her, but then turned back, my hands balled up in fists. “You have no right to concern yourself in my affairs. I must beg, therefore, to be importuned no further on the subject. You can have nothing more to say. You have insulted me in every possible method. I must beg to return to the house.”

I whirled around and walked hurriedly up the path while she continued behind me, spewing forth further diatribes. I recall the words
unfeeling, selfish girl
and how I would
disgrace him in the eyes of everybody.
That time it was I who stormed across the street without a thought to passing carriages.

“I take no leave of you, Miss Bennet,” she announced once inside her conveyance. “I send no compliments to your aunt. You deserve no such attention. I am seriously displeased.”

I heard the wheels of the barouche turn as I opened the door and entered my aunt’s house. Now why had I defended my right to marry Mr. Darcy with such vigour when I had not the slightest intention of doing so?

Chapter Twelve

The day of the opera arrived at last replete with a flurry of activities from morning to night. I was filled with excitement at the glamorous evening awaiting us and not a little apprehensive at the thought that Mr. Darcy would possibly attend. Mr. Bingley still had not seen him, so my fears were likely groundless. He might yet be away from London on whatever mysterious excursion he had taken.

I spent considerable amounts of time wondering about that trip. Had he returned to his home in Derbyshire? If he had, why did he not take his young sister with him? Of course, I knew nothing of his estate business, so perchance it was something of that nature that claimed his attention.

Or perhaps it was a lady in a distant county upon whom he called. I thought of how he had kissed me, seemingly unaware of whom he kissed. If he loved someone else, he would have been thinking of her, and if that thought were true, I could not bear to dwell upon it. I recalled the strength of his passion. I imagined the woman for whom that kiss was intended, and I wondered if she knew how fortunate she was.

Such worrisome thoughts prevented my attaining any true ease that afternoon, and I was relieved to have much to do to prepare for the evening ahead. A long perfumed bath followed by washing and drying my hair took up a good two hours.

Jane wished to style my coiffure, and I agreed, for she was far more talented than my aunt’s maid. She took great pains to weave tiny pearl-coloured flowers through my curls that matched the shade of my gown perfectly.

“You shall wear my rose-coloured cloak,” she announced, as she finished with my hair.

“But Jane, it complements your complexion more than mine.”

“Not tonight when I shall be in blue. Aunt has offered her navy velvet wrap.”

My eyes lit up at the thought of how lovely she would appear. Mr. Bingley would not be able to resist her.

We had just pulled on our long white gloves when my aunt tapped at the door to tell us he had arrived. I insisted upon going down first and cautioned Jane to wait a few moments so that she might descend the stairs alone.

“I do not want anything to distract Mr. Bingley from the heavenly vision he will have the pleasure to escort.”

“Oh, Lizzy,” Jane said, smiling shyly, but she agreed to do as I wished.

And my plan was not in vain, for Mr. Bingley could not tear his eyes from her, nor could he force the smile from his face, as she glided down the stairway. I did not miss how his hands lingered upon her shoulders as he assisted her with her wrap, or how long he held onto her hand when she stepped into his carriage. Oh yes, this would be a perfect evening, I was sure of it!

And the best news of all was that Caroline had decided to ride with Mr. Hurst so that her gown would not be crushed, or at least that was the excuse she gave her brother. We had only to tolerate Mrs. Hurst during the ride to our destination, and without Caroline, she was outnumbered and said little, if anything at all.

Arrays of lights and throngs of beautifully dressed people welcomed us to Covent Garden. I had never seen that many feathers in one place at one time!

Mr. Bingley led us up the great staircase to his private box, and I thrilled at the grandeur of the theatre and multitudes of gaily-dressed people seated below and in various boxes around the perimeter of the theatre. Below the stage, the orchestra tuned their instruments as we found our way to our seats.

I expected Caroline and Mr. and Mrs. Hurst to sit with us, but when we reached the apartment, Mrs. Hurst declared that room did not exist for three women in evening dress, although I thought the seating arrangements more than adequate. She and her sister seemed unduly concerned about crushed gowns that evening.

“I have it on good authority that Mr. Darcy shall be all alone tonight in his large, roomy box,” she said. “I see Caroline has already been asked to join him. I shall send Mr. Hurst to join you, and I shall sit with my sister. Shall that not work out perfectly?” She bestowed upon us one of her famous smiles that reminded me of a Cheshire cat.

Mr. Bingley looked about the milling crowd and waved slightly in the direction of Mr. Darcy’s box. Jane and I followed his gaze and saw Caroline firmly ensconced therein, sitting directly across from us. My heart beat a bit faster as I searched for Mr. Darcy’s tall, familiar figure, but he did not appear.