Two days later Anne de Bourgh stopped her phaeton on her ride round the park at the front gate of Hunsford parsonage, and Charlotte went out to speak to her. It was a windy day and Elizabeth frowned at the rudeness shown by making her friend stand out in the cold. Elizabeth was curious about the girl and went to talk with her. Lady Catherine tyrannized her as much as everyone else, and this made Elizabeth sympathetic towards the young woman.
Mrs. Jenkinson sat with Miss de Bourgh. After they exchanged greetings Elizabeth said, "Your cousins are very good friends of mine; I would dearly wish to make you a friend as well."
"Oh." The woman drew back a little into the soft cushions. Her eyes were wide, and they dominated her thin face. Her silk bonnet was broad and deep. Miss de Bourgh looked like a frightened child caught wearing her mother's clothes for play. She said, "You wish to be my friend? Mama may not approve; you are very beneath us. She said you are barely a gentlewoman because your uncle is a Cit. I must ask Mama what to do, but I thank you for the offer. I think I would like a friend."
Anne had her carriage set off without saying anything further. Elizabeth looked at Charlotte and opened her mouth and then shut it. Charlotte shrugged. Elizabeth said, "Miss de Bourgh seems… odd. How old is she? She must be several years above my age, yet she does not seem to be… mature."
"She rarely says so much as she did now." Charlotte and Elizabeth quickly walked back to the door to get out of the stiff breeze. "She is twenty and five."
The next day Miss de Bourgh drove around to the parsonage quite early and had her footman make a racket until Elizabeth and Charlotte left off their indoor employments and walked out to the garden gate to speak to her.
This time Miss de Bourgh was unaccompanied by Mrs. Jenkinson. "Mama has declared that I might use you for a companion, even though you are of low birth." She pointed an imperious, brown gloved finger at the seat cushion next to her. "Sit, Miss Bennet."
With an internal shrug of amusement, Elizabeth followed the command. It seemed she had learned from her mother's example, but Elizabeth thought more ignorance and silliness was behind Miss de Bourgh's behavior than impertinence and cruelty.
As soon as Elizabeth was settled on the lavender cushion, Anne ordered the phaeton into motion.
The roads directly around Rosings Park were well-maintained, and the carriages springs were excellent. They moved slowly enough that the bumps in the road could barely be felt. Elizabeth looked sideways at the woman next to her. She wore a fine green silk dress, with a profusion of tatted lace around the cuffs and collar.
Miss de Bourgh gripped the railing of her carriage and examined Elizabeth as well. However, she quickly glanced away again and tapped a hand on her leg. Elizabeth examined the view their current vantage offered of Rosings Park. The house showed itself very well, framed by a grove of beech trees. It was clear she would need to begin any conversation.
With a bright smile Elizabeth said, "It is a fine day for a ride, is it not? Do you often go around the park like this?"
"Not often." Miss de Bourgh clenched the railing more tightly and did not look at Elizabeth.
Had Elizabeth not been familiar with the manner of Miss de Bourgh's cousins, especially Georgiana, when confronted with new persons, she would have become offended. Instead Elizabeth smiled again and attempted to put Miss de Bourgh at her ease. "That is a pity. For it is very pretty, and your park is well-designed, with many impressive prospects. I've already walked the whole circuit twice and expect to gain much pleasure from seeing the spring advance during my stay with Mrs. Collins. Tell me, what is your favorite view?"
"I am uncertain."
This time she almost looked at Elizabeth. Elizabeth smiled and said, "There must have been some spot which jumped into your mind, perhaps not your favorite, but one you fancy."
"Well…" Miss de Bourgh pursed her thin, pale lips. "There is a small round temple near the chapel, it's on the other side of that hill overlooking the stream; as a girl I would sit there during the rain and watch the water flow past. This was before my father died."
"Why, we are quite similar: I too love to watch the rain. Have you any other similar hobbies?"
"I fear I am uninteresting. My health prevented me from traveling much or acquiring the accomplishments of most young ladies. You, I think, are far more interesting than I am."
Elizabeth wondered at this response. Though she was thin and pale, Elizabeth did not think Miss de Bourgh appeared ill. Would it be impolite to ask? Perhaps. "If you find the question impertinent, you need not respond, but when did you first become ill? What is your ailment?"
"When I was ten. At the time of my father's death. I went into hysterics and refused to stop crying no matter how Mama ordered me to. It was most unbecoming for a girl of my station. We do not cry and weep endlessly like peasants. Mama ordered doctors from London to look at me. They diagnosed my condition as too much cholera in the blood, and I was bled until I stopped shouting out so. I was kept in bed for several months once I recovered from the hysterics. Since then I have always been unable to exert myself. When I attempted to have a season in London, I had a fainting spell and then wept in an anteroom for an hour. It was most embarrassing."
Elizabeth's eyes popped slightly at the story. "Does your mother still have you bled often?"
"Not often."
While bleeding was a valuable medical treatment, Elizabeth was certain Miss de Bourgh had not been ill. Of course a ten-year-old would not cease crying quickly after her father died. Miss de Bourgh may be odd and arrogant but with such a mother — despite her failings Mrs. Bennet was a better mother than that.
The conversation remained quiet, and Elizabeth knew she needed to try again if she hoped for a real conversation. "Pray tell, what do you read? Have you a favorite novel?"
"I do not read novels. Mama insists that is beneath the dignity of our rank."
"Does she?" Elizabeth's nostrils flared. That was very like Lady Catherine: Any innocent pleasure must be banished. The only allowable pleasures with those derived from cruelty and display of superior rank. "What do you think about novels? Do you agree with your mother in every particular?"
Miss de Bourgh smiled a little. "I perceive you do not. The manner in which you responded to my mother's questions at dinner was most impertinent. It amused me. Still, you should show greater deference to your betters." The girl's blue eyes were serious as she added, "You would not wish to offend Lady Catherine. She has very great consequence. No one sensible would offend her. You have only amused her so far but be cautious."
Elizabeth could not help a laugh. "And what, pray tell, shall I suffer when I gain your mother's disapprobation?"
Miss de Bourgh shivered. "Do not joke. She can be most determined."
Elizabeth could see that her mother legitimately frightened Miss de Bourgh and hid her smile. She must be very sheltered to imagine that the power of Lady Catherine extended far beyond the vicinity of Rosings Park. "I can tell that you have not traveled much. How many times have you been to town?"
"Only the once, after I fainted at a ball we returned straightaway. I would dearly wish to travel more, were my health to permit it, but I have not been outside Kent above a half-dozen times."
"Why do you not choose to travel? You have a companion in Mrs. Jenkinson, and money could not be an object. If you traveled in small stages, your health might easily allow you to visit new locations."
"That is a nice idea. But my mother would never permit me."
Elizabeth smiled again. Miss de Bourgh's world began and ended with what her mother wished.
Miss de Bourgh stammered and, at last, ventured a question of her own, "Pray tell, Miss Bennet, have you often been in London? Do tell me about what places you have traveled."
Elizabeth laughed. "I am not very well-traveled. Though I have often been in London. My aunt and uncle are in trade there and are excellent people. I have stayed with them for a week or more many times. And I just visited Ramsgate, though that is quite near to you — have you visited?"
"That is where cousin Georgiana was caught by that fortune hunter, is it not? I've not been to the seaside, for my mother worries that the salt air might be unhealthful for me."
Miss de Bourgh's look was serious, and Elizabeth smiled. "The sea air unhealthful? I had believed it was in general considered beneficial."
"Mr. van Klapp, the physician my mother has principally put my case under, is convinced it might exacerbate my condition. It would not be good for the balance of humors."
"Ah."
"Do tell me about town. I so envy that your good health and low circumstances allow you to do so many things. Mama would never let me walk about as I know you do. And I wish I could read novels; I cannot understand why it is important not to. The Prince Regent himself reads novels."
Elizabeth smiled, "Aha! You do not agree with your mother in every particular."
After a week's time, Anne considered Elizabeth a dear friend.
Because Anne's health had not allowed her to attend school or fully participate in the parties and dances of young persons, she was intimate with no woman her age. As the closest family of a baronet's rank was a full ten miles away, Lady Catherine had not considered any ladies in the near neighborhood as being of a high enough rank to be close companions for Anne.
Anne was only permitted to befriend Elizabeth since she was too far beneath Anne to have any pretensions of equality.
Elizabeth felt too sad for Anne to be offended by this explanation.
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Darcy and Elizabeth met to walk most mornings. About a week and a half after their arrival Darcy hurriedly walked to the sheltered grove where they met. He had been delayed a quarter of an hour by Lady Catherine quizzing him yet again about why he was willing to speak to Wickham and Georgiana.
His aunt could not decide whether the benefit of having the fortune, which she viewed as her sister's, settled so it definitely would remain connected to the Fitzwilliam blood was worth the horrid disgrace of admitting any connection with that uppity steward's son and his disgraceful wife.
Elizabeth had laced her fingers together behind her bonnet and leaned against the trunk of a large tree. She stared contemplatively up at the canopy. Her posture let the thin fabric of her summer dress and petticoats drape against the curve of her legs and hips. She had not noticed his presence, so Darcy enjoyed his brief ability to freely look at her.
He wanted to touch her and lightly brush his fingers over her body.
Elizabeth straightened up and smiled when she noticed his presence. There was a beautiful teasing twist on her lips as she jumped away from the tree. Then she laughed and exclaimed, "Drat."
Her dress had caught on the tree, and Elizabeth squatted to untangle it. Darcy knelt next to her while she looked critically at the fabric.
"Some sap has smeared onto my dress." She straightened and smoothed down the skirt. "Do I shock you with my extravagance — that I would risk the ruin of a dress simply to relax on a pleasant day?"
"That you would do such does not shock me." Darcy took Elizabeth's hand and kissed the top of her glove. "Besides, you are not the only person whose clothing has been attacked by foliage in such a manner." Darcy grinned at Elizabeth. "I climbed many trees as a boy — some alcohol and a careful wash will remove that stain."
Elizabeth laughed. "You know that? I had believed gentlemen fled any awareness of how the laundry is done. I had not even known that — I only know that my mother was most displeased when I climbed a tree one fine Sunday morning in my best dress."
Elizabeth's eyes danced with amusement. Darcy replied, "You are fortunate that I make it my business to know everything. Otherwise, you would waste this entire walk worrying about your dress."
"I would not. You forget — I'm shockingly extravagant."
Darcy grinned at her, and she laughed.
The two walked around Lady Catherine's park. Darcy paused when they came to a footbridge to collect a silly bouquet of wildflowers from the edge of the stream for Elizabeth.
He smiled as he handed them to her, and with a grin she stuck a lily in her hair.
Elizabeth said, "Your cousin Anne, I have attempted to become her friend… Has she never rebelled against Lady Catherine in any way?"
"Not that I have ever seen. She has always seemed strange to me. We've not been close since we were children. We all would play together before Sir Lewis and my mother died. Since then… not often." Darcy shook his head. "You have spoken with her far more than I have since she has been an adult. You will gain more information from studying your own observations than from my memories."
"You call Anne strange?" Elizabeth smiled archly. "That almost smacks of an insult, and I shall not allow it to stand. For we have decided to become close friends, even though I have relatives in trade, and Mama would not approve at all if she knew."
"So she can rebel against her mother." Elizabeth laughed, and Darcy added, "I am pleased to hear it, I had not expected her to show that much independence."
Elizabeth gave a frustrated huff. "Of course you would not. That poor girl has been tyrannized endlessly by her awful mother. And you — and Colonel Fitzwilliam — have done nothing to counteract it. She is lonely, terribly lonely. Why did you never visit?"
"Well. Lady Catherine lives here."
Elizabeth laughed at his grimace.
Darcy said, "I think no one has ever abused Lady Catherine's hospitality by staying overlong."
"Anne is a sweet girl — you should have made the effort. Your friendship would've done her good. It still would do her good."
Darcy flushed and looked away from Elizabeth. He rubbed his cheek. He did not want to explain his attempt to marry Anne after his father died.
"Now, Mr. Darcy, tell me what it is that made you avoid your sweet cousin. Or" — Elizabeth leaned close to Darcy with a mischievous smile — "is there some great mystery about Anne which must be hid from anyone not of Fitzwilliam blood."
Darcy bent over and pulled up a daisy that had grown up next to the pathway. It was a pretty white and yellow blossom with a sweet scent, and Darcy twirled it between his fingers and then handed the blossom to Elizabeth. "Before my father died, I rarely spoke to Anne because Lady Catherine loudly insisted that we would marry and unite our great estates. I did not wish to be entangled. Then, once my father died, I asked to marry Anne — such a marriage would have solved all my financial problems — but happily, though I did not realize it then, Lady Catherine refused."
"Oh." A chill slithered down Elizabeth's spine. Darcy still needed to marry an heiress to protect Pemberley. She had refused to consider anything but the happy present for the past weeks. Darcy's story banished the spell of forgetfulness.
Darcy added, "Lady Catherine had found out about my father's debts. She had no knowledge of them prior to his death. However, in that first year, many friends of my father who had mortgages against Pemberley called the debts in when their annual term ended. I had to find fifty thousand pounds that year. It was my uncle's help which raised most of the money, but he had to go wide to ask enough persons to find it on such short notice. Eight thousand was even borrowed from Lady Catherine. Without his help I would have needed to sell part of the estate."
An anxious ball grew in Elizabeth's stomach at this confirmation of how Darcy depended on his uncle. She forced a false smile. "So a lack of money was of greater import than the presence of Fitzwilliam blood."
"My aunt is not always consistent in her opinions." Darcy's chest clenched when Elizabeth did not smile. She must fear that he would marry another. At least he hoped that was the true interpretation of her manner. "Elizabeth, surely you must know that I do not wish to marry —"
"What if Lady Catherine changes her mind? You told me that your situation has improved enough that despite the remaining debts, it is sound. If you told Lady Catherine how great your income is —"
"I will not marry Anne."
"She's a sweet girl. A little silly, but not a bad sort. I think her illness is a response to the tyranny of her mother. If she had sufficient exercise and some happiness, she would improve greatly. She would not be completely plain then. It would do her good to be away from —"
"Elizabeth."
"You promised to think about it."
That silenced Darcy.
"You should talk to your aunt," Elizabeth said, "If she knew how great your income was and what your remaining debts were she might change her mind. Try. Pemberley would be safe if you married her, and —"
"I have thought about it. I do not give a damn that she is rich, that it would protect my estate, that it would be a prudent choice. She isn't you. Elizabeth Bennet, I am going to marry you, or I shall not marry at all." Darcy looked into her eyes. "Elizabeth, we have spoken around this, but you know what my feelings are. They are unchangeable —"
"No please don't. Not again. It will ruin everything, I… I beg you — don't ask me."
"Why do you hesitate? What must I do to prove I love you? To prove I shall not change again. I know I hurt you greatly; I know I deserve what treatment you choose to give me. But you are happy with me, we have been happy together — think of your own happiness."
If he pushed her, she would… He needed to marry a rich woman. It should be Anne. He wouldn't marry anyone else while he was so in love with her. He believed she loved him. She had to convince him that she did not. She would say he had hurt her too much, and now she hated him. Yes, she would say she hated him and find some vile way to say it so he believed her.
Elizabeth began to sob.
Darcy enveloped her in his broad arms and kissed her forehead. "As you wish, I shall not ask anything now. But know I love you and nothing can change that."
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Elizabeth made Darcy promise to at least befriend Anne. He had claimed that Lady Catherine would become offended and banish him from the house, but when Elizabeth insisted he promised to try.
Darcy carefully dragged Colonel Fitzwilliam with him when he spoke with Anne, both to avoid offending Lady Catherine and to avoid hinting to a lonely girl that he had any intentions. He was accustomed to Anne always being silent, and it shocked him that she had a great deal to say when allowed to. She was a clever girl, although her mind was infused with Lady Catherine's prejudices.
Darcy quickly realized Elizabeth was right: Anne must be removed from Lady Catherine's suffocating control. The instant Lady Catherine entered the room all of Anne's sweetness and intelligence disappeared, and she resolutely only spoke with one word answers and gave commands to Mrs. Jenkinson.
After a great deal of effort, Colonel Fitzwilliam convinced Lady Catherine that short walks in the warmth of spring would be neither unhealthful nor a sign of Jacobin sympathies. After Lady Catherine gave her permission, each day without rain the three cousins walked about the park. Usually, Elizabeth joined them.
Anne was very like Georgiana. Shy, sweet, and horrifyingly naïve.
Even though Darcy could see Anne saw how foolish her mother's dictates were, she always appeared frightened and darted her eyes about before saying anything which contradicted them. Anne was like a Spaniard in the days of the Inquisition who no longer believed in the Catholic Creed, but dared not speak against it, even amongst her closest friends, for fear of the torturers.
The days were pleasant, but Darcy hated that Elizabeth's spirits had been oppressed since the day she commanded him to befriend Anne. Once he and Anne had reestablished their childhood friendship, Elizabeth watched them with a manner that was half eager, half depressed.
Elizabeth would not let him reassure her, but he was not going to marry Anne, no matter what.
Three weeks after Darcy and Elizabeth arrived at Rosings Park, Colonel Fitzwilliam and Darcy sat down after their walk with Anne and Elizabeth. The group sat around a green marble table in the garden south of the great house. They were shaded by a towering beech tree. A soft breeze wafted the smell of the spring blossoms through the garden, and a trio of bright orange butterflies hopped from flower to flower.
"Now tell me another story," Elizabeth insisted.
For the past hour she had encouraged the cousins to share reminisces of their childhoods. Colonel Fitzwilliam and Darcy had competed to see who could embarrass the other more successfully. Anne smiled and occasionally added a comment about her father.
Darcy said, "Fitzwilliam, remember when the hermit scared you."
"He terrified you as well."
Darcy glanced at Elizabeth and laughed. "Yes, but I did not almost break my leg. And you were two years older than me."
Colonel Fitzwilliam drew himself up. "I still am two years older than you."
Darcy waved his hand. "That is of no account. It matters more at that age. Twenty-eight is not really different from thirty. An eight-year-old has a right to be terrified of a crazed man with a swinging white beard. Those who have reached the great age of ten must be held to a higher standard. Besides the entire scheme was your idea."
"My idea? I was not the one who stole the black powder from Sir Lewis's stores."
Elizabeth clapped enthusiastically. "The black powder? The hermit? Do tell the whole story."
Colonel Fitzwilliam laughed and gestured at a hill visible over the garden hedges. "I know you have stomped around the park enough to have found the cave."
"The one with the fire pit and roughhewn bench cut into the wall? Your uncle allowed a hermit to live there?"
With a bright eyed grin, he replied, "Allowed? No, he paid a hermit to live there."
"Truly? How singular."
"Nay. It was not singular — I understand it was the fashion during the reign of George II. I know of at least four estates that hired a man to live in a cave and act wise and religious for guests. It was picturesque."
"Ah, if it was a matter of fashion, then I doubt no more." Elizabeth laughed. "The habits of our predecessors quite mystify me. Such as panniers" — Elizabeth shook her head and looked at Anne — "It is very like your mother that she insists on wearing them to church. Why, almost no one has worn such metal hoops since long before any of us were born. I know myself well enough to admit that if it were the fashion, I would wear such a metal frame beneath my dress, but I am glad we live in a more sensible age."
"Mama is a strong defender of tradition." Anne smiled. "Do tell me the rest of the story. I remember the hermit, his cave always smelled terribly unpleasant. And his eyes" — Anne shivered — "they protruded and had this wild look. When I disobeyed her, Mrs. Jenkinson said he was a gremlin who liked to eat little girls. I almost believed her, for he looked the part so well."
"Well. He didn't frighten us." Darcy drew himself up, the picture of eight-year-old bravery.
Elizabeth laughed, and Anne coughed in amusement.
"I confess we were a little frightened. But being boys we paid no attention to that. I, ah, requisitioned for military use a sack of the excellent black powder your father used for hunting. The hermit had chased us away from his area while we explored the park several times. Naturally our dignity required that we gain revenge. Richard thought that we should make a dozen firecrackers with the powder and hide them by the entrance to the cave while he was within. You see the enclosed area would make the sound much louder."
Elizabeth smiled and her cheeks dimpled. "That was unkind of you. But did the daring scheme work?"
Colonel Fitzwilliam barked out a laugh and said, "Oh, yes, it was unkind. In retrospect we are fortunate his hearing took no permanent harm. But we were children with no sense that things could go wrong. And we got him properly angry at us. We had never heard him make a sound until then — part of his contract was that he was to never say anything, not even when the servants brought him food — but he shrieked from the back of the cave."
"Being fool boys, we both stepped out into the clearing in front of the cave and stood laughing and pointing at the entrance as he came out." Colonel Fitzwilliam paused to grin at the memory. "The bald old man stared at us, his white beard wagging, and then with a wordless growl he rushed us. We split immediately. I ran towards the river, while Darcy had the far cleverer idea to climb a tree."
"The best part of the story is how you screamed like a girl."
"I did not."
"Did too."
"I am a Colonel in his Majesty's army. It would be beneath my dignity to have ever screamed like a girl."
"Did too."
Elizabeth giggled. She was delighted by the boyish squabbling, though they both exaggerated the absurdity of their argument for the audience.
Colonel Fitzwilliam said, "I cannot lie in front of a woman — while it was not a girlish scream, I confess I screamed when I slipped on one of the rocks in the stream and bashed my leg. But that was a soldierly, pained scream."
"No," Darcy said, "I watched from the tree top as you were swept along. You shrieked, 'Help me Fitz! Help me, Fitz! He's going to eat me!'"
Elizabeth laughed. Anne began to laugh as well, but as she always did when amused, she pressed her hand against her throat and coughed to keep the sound back.
"Why ever do you do that?" Elizabeth asked. "Every time you are amused, you keep yourself from laughing."
"Oh." Anne looked down at the table. "I do. It's a habit."
Anne traced her finger along a vein of white in the table's marble. "I know what you shall think, Lizzy. But I was raised as I was. It is too late to be undone. You know what my mother thinks of laughter. She would not permit me to act in such a vulgar manner. She punished me anytime she heard me laugh, so I learned to stop."
Elizabeth pressed her hand against her mouth. That horrified her even more than how Lady Catherine bled Anne to stop her crying.
Darcy said, "You should laugh when you are with us. Laughter is a wonderful sound."
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That afternoon, Lady Catherine watched the group sit in the garden from the window of her private sitting room. Her daughter smiled happily. Lady Catherine knew why Darcy had tried to befriend Anne over the past week. It was easy to see through his design; he wanted Anne's money.
Such temptation was impossible for a Darcy male to resist.
Lady Catherine had not stopped Darcy because he could be sent off at any time. No harm could be done. Perhaps Darcy hoped Anne would imitate the gambler's wife and elope with a fortune hunter, but Lady Catherine kept too close an eye on her daughter to allow that.
She wasn't such a fool as Darcy.
He was her sister's son, and he had done a creditable job of disguising his hopeless ambitions. For her deceased sister's sake, she'd not banish him until he progressed beyond talking about idle topics to Anne in the presence of Colonel Fitzwilliam and that Bennet creature Anne wished for a pet.
Lady Catherine had never seen Anne smile and talk so much.
She smiled too much.
But her smile made Anne almost pretty. If she was happy, she must be falling into Darcy's trap. Lady Catherine had expected Anne to show more noble fortitude. But the Darcy family had always made handsome charming men.
Happiness was completely unimportant, but Lady Catherine felt a sentimental pain at the thought of ripping her daughter's smile away again.
The four, Anne and Darcy, Colonel Fitzwilliam and Miss Bennet, made a pretty grouping around the table. Miss Bennet waved her hands excitedly. If she had gone to a proper school such ecstatic motions would've been trained out of her, but she was a very pretty picture of a girl. Lady Catherine was not confident she made the correct choice when she allowed Miss Bennet to freely associate with Anne.
Anne said something to Darcy. He smiled and nodded eagerly. Richard slapped his hand on the table to get attention.
Lady Catherine never slouched, but she allowed herself the small weakness of a sigh. Only the servants who sat behind her waiting for orders could observe it. Anne was five and twenty. Her health did not permit her to travel to London; likely it never would. Yet Anne must marry soon.
Someone should have appeared by now. Year after year, Lady Catherine had expected a gentleman with a great estate from a good family would visit the neighborhood and become attached to Anne. It had not happened. The only gentlemen who were given introductions to Anne were barely acceptable, yet they were still put off by Anne's blandness.
Beauty was not required for one of such a distinguished family lineage as the Fitzwilliams and de Bourghs. Anne had that in her face which marked her as being of distinguished birth. It made her appearance better than that of the handsomest of her sex. Which was fortunate, as Anne had little beauty, no vivacity, and she completely lacked the arts and allurements which women used to attract the wandering gazes of gentlemen.
Even now, when Anne looked better than Lady Catherine recalled ever seeing her daughter, the contrast between her aristocratically pale daughter and the vulgar brown Elizabeth Bennet made Anne's inferior charms clear.
Miss Elizabeth openly laughed at something Colonel Fitzwilliam said.
Anne must depend upon her fortune and family name to attach a gentleman.
Would Fitzwilliam Darcy really be that awful a choice? It was time to admit her daughter was a failure as a woman and would never make a splendid match, or even a decent match. Darcy was the first gentleman with any estate who had shown her this much attention.
How poor was her nephew?
Lady Catherine had expected Darcy to become a bankrupt and lose those magnificent fields and parks his family had held. After she sent him packing, Lady Catherine only thought of Darcy to express shock to herself that he still held out. Eventually, she and Matlock would find themselves supporting a pair of penniless relations.
Six years had passed since the death of George Darcy.
Lady Catherine remembered Pemberley, its vast park and endless, glorious fields. George Darcy seemed such a good match when Anne married. Such a large estate must generate a great income, and her nephew claimed he practiced such extreme economy so he could reduce his debts quickly.
She looked out the window again. They were no longer laughing but instead had more appropriate solemn expressions. Darcy spoke intently to Anne who nodded her head attentively.
Her brother had supported Darcy. Lord Matlock was an almost sensible man despite his appallingly undignified manner. Her brother would not throw money endlessly at his nephew if there was no hope to salvage Darcy's fortunes. She needed to know, and soon, what Darcy's true situation was.
Lady Catherine sat at her desk and penned a quick letter demanding that Lord Matlock come down from London by the end of the week to speak to her about Darcy. It was during the break in parliament's session, and it would take him less than a day to travel each way. He could have no objection to immediately coming.
If her brother thought Mr. Darcy's situation was tolerable, she would let Darcy marry Anne.