Lady Catherine's Condescension

by Laina Lee

This "delightful mix of the absurd and the poignant" begins when Lady Catherine decides to give the new Mr. & Mrs. Collins their wedding night talk, emphasizing how he can satisfy his wife. But just how did Lady C. get this knowledge? Who will turn up at Pemberley? And what is preventing Mrs. Darcy from having a baby? HEAs, "M" for explicit advice, ridiculous fantasies and sex.

15. Chapter 15

Okay, this isn't the last chapter as I have decided to break this chapter into two so that you might get the first half sooner.

Chapter 15: Lady Catherine's POV: From Friends to Something More

One warm spring day I spent a happy afternoon picnicking beside the shore of Pemberley's spring with the Darcys, the Collins, the Bingleys, the Gardiners and Mr. Bennet. Pemberley was awash in children: there was my darling great niece, Miss Jane Elizabeth Darcy (who we all called Janey); my dear four God children (Cathy, Billy, Anne, and Walt Collins); the two Bingley children (Fran, who was named for her Grandmother Francis "Fanny" Bennet, and Charlie, who was named for his father); and the five Gardiner children (Emma, Anna, Eddie, Jack, and Maria). Nominally, we had all gathered to celebrate the birthday of Janey, who had just turned two.

The Gardiners had arrived about a fortnight earlier and I had been surprised at how genteel they were, though he was in trade. They were people of fashion and had thoughtful opinions, and it had been pleasant to have new people with which to talk. I liked seeing how happy their presence made the Darcys.

The Gardiners' five children were a credit to them. The elder daughters had excellent manners and deportment and played the harp marvelously well. Their sons acted with a maturity past their years. Their youngest daughter, who was much younger than the others, always said please and thank you, and was generous with toys. I had seen less of Maria than her elder siblings, as she was typically in the nursery at Pemberley or the nursery at the vicarage, but adjudged her to be most suitable playmate for my great niece and God children.

During the picnic, the younger children ate quickly so that they could play, while the elders and the rest of us remained to talk. It was clear to me that although the Masters Gardiner, Eddie and Jack, with their proper clothes were having polite conversation with Mr. Bennet, they longed to be more active. They looked with longing at the younger children who were playing at sword fighting using sticks.

Although I tried to attend to the conversation, I was more focused on watching the children play. Their nurses were close at hand to intervene, but it seemed unneeded as of yet. The children were playing war, with Cathy, Billy, Annie and Janey pretending to be the French, while Charlie, Maria and Walt played the English. There was an argument early on as Fran was supposed be on her brother's side. I heard Charlie pleading with her, "Fran, we need four to four, not four to thwee. Ith not fair if yous not by my thide."

Fran replied, "I will not fight. I am a lady and ladies do not fight with sticks."

"They ith not thicks but thwords! We ith battling and I not gonna looth to de French," Charlie insisted, getting frustrated. Finally he gave up, shaking his head and saying, "Dumb thithter; I need a brother."

Fran returned to the adults and for a time sat by her mother's side, but by and by decided to join the play, not as a swordsman, but as a nurse. Whenever one of the children fell down and pretended to be dead or injured, she ran to their side and pretended to tend their wounds. Somehow this always resulted in them reviving and rejoining the fray. I was pleased to see that while the older of the playing children were vigorous in their sword fighting with one another, they were far more gentle with the youngest children, Janey and Walt, even when they were struck by them.

Eventually Mr. Darcy and Mr. Gardiner took pity on Eddie and Jack, revealing they had fishing gear and they and all the men, including Mr. Bennet, went off to fish. Mr. Bennet turned to look at me as he left, asking all of us (but mostly me I felt), "Would any of you ladies wish to try fishing?"

While I might have been tempted if it would have been me and Mr. Bennet alone, I had no wish to be the only rose among the thorns. I answered for myself, "I would rather sit here with such nice company."

The other women similarly declined, but when Mr. Gardiner specifically extended the invitation to his daughters, saying, "Surely you would like to join us, Emma and Anna!" they rose with alacrity and happy smiles to join their father. It seemed that they had fished before.

I heard Emma challenge her brothers, "I imagine Anna and I can catch more fish than the two of you."

After they departed, soon the talk turned to babies and how to procure or delay them. Mrs. Darcy was once again in the family way, expecting another little one in late summer. Although Mrs. Bingley and Mrs. Collins knew the whole story about Mr. Darcy's breeches, Mrs. Darcy told the story again to Mrs. Gardiner, explaining at the end, "And imagine, once he began wearing looser breeches, why Janey and this new little one followed right away." Mrs. Darcy rubbed her belly and smiled contentedly.

Mrs. Collins added, "Having already had four children in rapid succession (despite the fact of feeding all of them at my breast which my mother declared would stop me catching quickly), Mr. Collins and I thought that if he began wearing very tight breeches that I might have some relief from being in the family way for a time without having to curtail our activities. While perhaps it gave me a few months delay over my usual fecundity, I cannot recommend it as having much efficacy, as I am expecting again."

This was news to me and apparently everyone else, but once I knew I could see the slight swell that showed that it was true. Many congratulations were shared with her, as were comments of sympathy.

Mrs. Collins told us, "It is quite all right. I am happy enough. Once each child arrives, I love him or her dearly. I have no real cause to complain as we have sufficient room, servants and money to accommodate a dozen. Not that I wish for seven more. It is most fortunate that I did not marry until I was twenty-seven. Just imagine if I had been married more than the past eight years!"

Perhaps forgetting that Miss Darcy was present, Mrs. Gardiner confided, "Mrs. Collins if you are interested, I can inform you of the timing of marital relations that gave me a gap of five years between my youngest son and daughter."

"Is it not a sin to refrain? To deprive your husband?" Mrs. Collins asked.

"Oh believe me, my Edward is not deprived. There are many other things we do."

I felt she was just on the verge of revealing what (and I was certainly intrigued to hear what she might reveal), when Mrs. Darcy said, "Aunt Gardiner, you forget yourself. My unmarried sister is here."

Mrs. Gardiner looked abashed as she spotted Georgiana blushing, but Mrs. Darcy skillfully turned the conversation in another, much less interesting direction. As the other ladies talked, I found myself wondering why Georgiana had not yet had a season in town; she was most definitely of marriageable age. However, I concluded that as of yet she had no true desire to leave her happy home.

Having entirely lost the thread of the conversation, I instead resumed watching the children play. I was enjoying their earnestness as soldiers of warring states until a thought suddenly intruded: My daughter Anne should be here; her children should be playing with their cousins. At that thought, I lost all enjoyment in the festivities. I felt superfluous. Who would care if I were not there? I excused myself as politely as I could, and told them all, "I am getting tired; I think I will lie down and see if I can nap a bit."

They said all that was appropriate, but as I departed I heard the conversation continue on without me. I did indeed try to sleep, hoping that if I was less tired I might feel better. However, I could not get comfortable. Dawson did her best to help, but while she could attend to my physical needs, she could not soothe my aching heart.

When it was time for dinner, Dawson helped me dress and I went to the salon to, as usual, wait to be escorted into dinner. As was typical, we all gathered there. But on this occasion, rather than Mr. Bennet escorting me in, Darcy did the honors. As I glided in on his arm, he asked, "Are you well, Lady Catherine?"

I realized then that something of my morose thoughts must be present on my face.

"I am fine," I declared. "I am just a little tired and was not able to nap. Tonight I expect I shall sleep quite well."

Darcy nodded, but the look on his face told me that he was skeptical.

After dinner, I excused myself from the evening's entertainments. I let them think I meant to take myself off to bed, but instead I fled to the library. I hoped to distract myself from missing Anne and the loss of her potential progeny. Really, I was missing all of my dear lost children, but I could not think about all of them, it was too overwhelming.

After a bit, I heard the library door open and Mr. Bennet entered. He smiled when he saw me and said, "Good evening, Lady Catherine. I had a feeling I would find you in here."

With effort I returned his smile.

Mr. Bennet walked past the grey sofa and turned toward me. "Have you any good reading?" He gestured to the volume open on my lap. At that moment I could not even recall what book I had chosen. I could not even recollect the subject matter though I had read the first chapter.

Mr. Bennet held out a hand to me and asked, "Lady Catherine, would you join me on the sofa?" I nodded. I closed the book and grasped his extended hand, not because I needed it to rise, but because I would not ignore his gallant gesture, a gesture that seemed to me, perhaps, to offer more than our prior understanding that we were friends. I dropped the book on my seat as I rose.

Neither of us released the other's hand when I gained my feet. It felt pleasant to hold Mr. Bennet's hand. His hand was wide, soft and warm as it grasped my colder, thinner hand with its swollen knuckles and elongated fingers. Had I not seen the wrinkled thin skin on my own hand, I might have forgotten my age as my heart beat faster.

Mr. Bennet was silent as he led me to the grey sofa with the stubby, sturdy wooden feet, the sofa that I had thought of for the past five years as being his sofa, even though it had been in the library before he came to Pemberley and would probably remain (perhaps with new upholstery) long after he was gone. He brought me to the right side, arranged a throw pillow to cushion my back and then released my hand that I might seat myself, first giving my hand the slightest squeeze. After a moment's hesitation I let his hand go.

When we were both seated, Mr. Bennet turned toward me and I turned toward him and he held out his hand again. I laid my hand in his outstretched palm and he placed his other hand across my own. He gently squeezed my hand between his two palms. The gesture felt very intimate, very pleasant and very safe. He cleared his throat and I almost missed his first words, so focused was I on the sensation of my hand being held. While I had many times walked with my hand upon his arm when he escorted me to dinner, I never recalled our bare hands touching before.

"Lady Catherine?"

"Yes?" I answered, looking into his intense blue eyes until they dropped to look at our joined hands. I found myself staring at our joined hands, also.

"Lady Catherine, it has been my very great pleasure these last few years become your friend. Do I mistake myself, do I ask too much, to venture whether we might have something more?"

"More?" I answered inanely. Surely I was mistaken in the leap my heart took. I knew Mr. Bennet was loyal, oh so loyal to his dearly departed wife, his beloved Fanny, even though he had told me more than two years ago that the fog that enveloped him had begun to clear, that he was taking enjoyment in his life again. I had hoped this might be in part due to me, but more than likely it was because finally at that juncture his favorite daughter was expecting her first child, had only a month or two to go in her confinement.

Years ago, I had resigned myself to the prospect that Mr. Bennet would never see me as I saw him. I had thought him pleasant looking from our first encounter, his salt and pepper hair, his clipped beard that was almost entirely white, his wise but sad blue eyes, beneath his droopy lids. He had a bit of a paunch and slightly stooped shoulders, but these did not detract at all from his appearance in my opinion.

From our first meeting I was drawn to him. I had wanted to make Mr. Bennet feel a bit of happiness, to ease the pain that had hung around him like a heavy cloak.

During the beginning of our acquaintance, I found Mr. Bennet to be a man of few words. This suited me just fine as I had enough of Mr. Collins's obsequious, flattering chatter to fill a lifetime (though of course this had lessened bit by bit after he acquired his wife). I felt a kinship with Mr. Bennet; we had both experienced loss and likely were wiser for it.

But gradually, after we began to have exchanges, I began to anticipate his quick wit, his sarcastic undertones. I began to see him not just as a possible friend, but as a man, a man who made me recall that I was a woman.

Although he gradually warmed to me, I saw no evidence that Mr. Bennet considered me as a woman, or more importantly as someone to desire. I felt he had no recognition that I was someone who despite my age still had longings and needs for a man's touch. I was well used to, still, occasionally, taking care of my own physical needs, but it was dull. I livened this up by thinking of him at such times, but that was probably a mistake because my heart began to race when he came near and I was often distracted by the thought of what it might be like to have him for my own.

Mr. Bennet seemed to welcome my presence in the library, but only because I was someone with whom he could share his concerns, such as about the possible barren state of Mrs. Darcy. I felt that I was simply a useful stand-in for the male companionship he did not have at Pemberley. While he was friendly with Darcy, I doubted that either was the confidant of the other about any personal matters.

It was the same old story from when I was a young debutante. I was too tall (taller than Mr. Bennet by an inch or two). I was not pretty enough to attract his attention (I had never attracted the attention of any man worth knowing). I could not compete with more beautiful women like my sister, or in this case with the memory of his lovely dearly departed wife.

And added to my longstanding failings, the years were not kind, I had crows feet around my eyes and the beginnings of age spots. The flesh below my chin was looser, too, the flesh on my upper arms drooped when I held my arms out. I had only lost two teeth (both were in the back pulled when they hurt so much that I welcomed them being pried out by the barber surgeon), but my front teeth had yellowed a bit with age. My hair, well it did not show my age as no one saw it, concealed as it was under my fine wig, but all of these other things revealed my age.

Mr. Bennet's eyes rose again and I found myself looking at him as he looked at me. I saw nervousness and restrained distress in his tightened brow, but also hope in his soft eyes and gently parted lips. His hands grasped my hand tighter and I found myself placing my free hand atop his own, so that our hands were pressed together in a stack.

"I will remain mute if my addresses are unwelcome," Mr. Bennet told me, looking at me most earnestly. "I know I am a mere country gentleman with nothing of consequence to offer the daughter of an earl but dare I hope that you might have some affection for me?"

I felt overwhelmed. By this time my heart was pounding, throbbing and I felt my eyes become wet, slicked with my emotions, as I fought to keep my tears within my eyes.

"Come now, Lady Catherine, surely it is not as terribly as all that." Mr. Bennet started to pull back, his face drooping, his eyes despondent. "I regret . . ." his eyes stared down at his lap before flicking up again to meet my own, "if I have offended you, surely you must know . . . It was not intentionally done. I know I am nothing to Mr. de Bourgh."

My lips parted and I knew I must say something, but I was well and truly flummoxed, completely overwhelmed and no words would come. I was feeling too much for any rational thought and made dumb. In the face of my continued silence, Mr. Bennet began to slide his hands back from my own, releasing me, and all I could think about, the focus of all my thoughts, was that I could not let him go, have him continue under this misapprehension (or at least that is how I justified my unseemly actions to myself afterwards).

Somehow, to this day I am not sure exactly how it occurred, I found myself leaning forward, grasping his face with my hands and bringing my lips to his. I kissed him and for a moment his lips were rigid and unmoving.

But then Mr. Bennet's lips began moving against mine just a little and then his lips caught my bottom lip in a slight suckle. After that there was no holding back on either of our parts. I felt his beard brush my face and it was both soft and prickly. Mr. Bennet tasted of wine, with a hint of our fish dinner, and of the biscuits he must have eaten afterwards and just a bit of the tobacco of his pipe; he smelled of books, the fire and horses and yes, a bit of the fish.

As our kisses deepened, Mr. Bennet grasped me around my back, drew me forward as I willing went with him, sliding onto his lap. We were as close as two fully clothed people can be and he kissed me with an urgency and fervency that I had never experienced before.

Suddenly I was all flesh and feeling with very little thought. I desired to be enveloped and surrounded by him and could not, would not have denied him anything. One of my hands was in his hair and another was under his coat, while I felt one of his hands just above the back top edge of my gown, his fingers sliding just a bit below that edge. That little touch burned a path down my spine into my belly and lower. Mr. Bennet's other hand was past the small of my back, on the top part of the left side of my rump and oh so gently squeezed there, which sent a distinctive feeling of desire rippling through me. My gown felt very constricting and his layers were so bothersome. I felt his hardness against my thigh. I desired to feel skin on skin, flesh on flesh, to be one with him, proprieties be damned.

Somehow Mr. Bennet had more self control than me as he wrenched his lips from mine, murmuring, "Lady Catherine, beloved, this is not the place or the time. I forgot myself for a moment and it will not happen again. I do not wish to besmirch your reputation. As I told my Lizzy a long time ago, an honorable man will wait."

Although my flesh still burned with my physical desires, I was suddenly very aware of my position on his lap, not in a private chambers but in the library where anyone might see. I scooted back, pulled my skirts into a more orderly arrangement and then touched my face, my lips. I could feel that my face felt a little scratched from his whiskers, that my lips were hot and plump.

Mr. Bennet began reaching for my hand again but then pulled back, straightened himself up and folded his hands together upon his lap, blocking the protuberance from my view. I felt bereft in being separated from him, of sitting a normal distance from him again. But then he asked, "Lady Catherine, will you condescend to be my wife?"

I felt a deep, overwhelming joy. But I had to be sure that I was who he wanted, and was not simply convenient. "If you are inclined to take another wife, would it not be far more prudent to marry someone younger, still in her child bearing years? You still might have a son."

Mr. Bennet tensed his brow, shook his head back and forth in negation and asked me, "What need have I of a son?"

I replied, "Longbourn is entailed. This benefits the Collinses of course, but have you not always wished to pass your land down to an heir of your body? Has it not been you who was most desirous of this for the Darcys?"

"And is this your only objection to wedding me?"

I nodded.

Mr. Bennet scratched his beard and pondered. I felt he was wanting to give me a thoughtful answer.

"It is true that I desired a son when I was a younger man; what man has not wanted a child made in his image to carry on after he is gone? And Fanny was depending upon it and as much as I teased her about her worries for the future, it cut me to the quick but there was nothing to do. I also worried about my wife's and daughters' future should I leave them without a suitable portion which was near impossible to save the way my wife spent our money. Perhaps I should have been stronger and held more back but Fanny had ways of getting what she wanted from me."

He gave a little grin then, as if remembering something fondly. I had a sudden insight that she might have done so through gifting him with marital favors or perhaps withholding them until he complied.

He continued, "But despite our spendthrift ways, my wife gained her reward without ever being deprived of what my money could provide and there is no need to worry about my daughters' futures now, as they have all married. While Lydia might have monetary needs beyond what her husband can satisfy, I have learned that Lizzy and Jane often provide her with assistance."

He paused and once again took up my hand. Looking most earnest, Mr. Bennet told me, "It may be selfish of me, but I wish to enjoy my middle and twilight years with a dear companion by my side. I am too old to be a father. I may dandle grandchildren on my knee but doubt I have more than two decades to raise a son. And Longbourn is nothing to Pemberley, life there continues with just a little management. As for having wanted children for my daughter, it is not so much about seeing Pemberley continue on in Darcy hands for generations yet to come. I wanted children for my child as my Lizzy would have never truly felt worthy of being Mrs. Darcy without giving her husband children. Too, now that the first has come, I have seen her delight in Janey, just as my Fanny delighted in our Jane. Her happiness is important to me."

Mr. Bennet held my hand a little more firmly, "So I ask you again, Lady Catherine, will you be my wife?"

I heard my answer burst forth, "I will."

Mr. Bennet's face broke out in a happy grin. He lept to his feet and then pulled me up and into his arms. He twirled me around before quickly releasing me. I found myself smiling and then laughing from delight. We stood next to each other, not touching but still happy.

When I reached for him, he drew back a little. "Now, none of that now. We have been much too forward. I would request that you forget such a lapse. I would treat you with all due respect before we are wed."

I nodded (even as I acknowledged to myself that I had been the instigator of the improprieties, not he). I could not resist asking cheekily, "If I invited you to visit my bed tonight, would you truly refuse?"

He licked his lips and my eyes followed the path of his tongue, noting that it was somewhat pointy and long. I wondered whether that lick bespoke of nervousness or desire. There was a strain to his voice, an unnatural tone when he replied after several moments, "Yes, although it would be difficult. Please issue no such invitation and lock your chamber tight in case I should be tempted."

"Ah. Perhaps we should discuss the date for our nuptials."

Mr. Bennet nodded and in that still strained tone responded, "May I ask, is it to much to request, that it would be soon?"

I tried to keep my voice even as I answered, part serious and part teasing, "I see that I have no choice but for us to marry soon as you will not indulge me in vice, your honor forbids it." I wondered if he was in jest about visiting my chambers or if indeed I would need to lock the door.

He replied, "Yes it does. I respect you too much and want the woman I love to be blameless before God."

"Love? You love me? Truly? This is not just a prudent match in your estimation? A fitting conclusion that the single elder persons at Pemberley might as well marry?" Without my own volition, I began to shake and happy tears ran down my face.

"Yes, I do. I was in the middle before I knew I had even begun. I have wanted this for years, but you gave me precious little encouragement. What hope had I that the daughter of an earl would ever accept me, a man whose first wife was the daughter of a mere attorney, a man who has a modest estate that is entailed away?"

"Earlier, Mr. Bennet, you told me you were no Mr. de Bourgh. That is truer than you know. My husband may have been most suitable from his station in life, but he did not love me; I was only a means to an end. Our marriage was not a happy one; there was only duty and very little respect on his part. I need not be first in your heart, I know that privilege belongs to a ghost, but I wish for you to know, you are first and only in my heart."

He gave me a most tender smile and reached out to gently stroke my cheek. "There is no first or last. I did not have the easiest of marriages with my Fanny, we were of very different temperaments and interests. I acted somewhat impulsively in marrying her, acting more out of my base interest than considering all that marriage meant. Still, I loved her even as she often perplexed me (and I think it was similar for her). She gave me her whole life and gifted me with my pride and joy, my five dear daughters. I am a different man now than the man that married her and the man I am right now dearly loves you (and yet, this is not a slight to her)."

The next day when we announced our engagement, none seemed surprised, not one. Everyone told us how happy they were. I could not stop smiling and neither could he.

Mr. Bennet paid for an ordinary license from Mr. Collins and told me to name the day on which I wished to be married. We resolved to marry that Friday which was the minimum time needed to make basic arrangements. Neither of us wished to wait for our married life to begin.