Chapter 17: Their Best Laid Plans

As we approached Rosings, Edwin and I riding our bay horses in front of the carriage, I saw a figure in the distance facing us. Somehow, I immediately correctly guessed who it would be in his bearing. The heavy-set man in the lane first waved his hand in a friendly greeting before stepping just out of the way and then bent down and remained in a deep bow. Anyone else would have fled far into the grass to try to avoid the dust our horses were kicking up as they galloped.

With a light and steady pressure on the reins, I slowed my horse gradually enough to not cause difficulties for those behind us. As my mount dropped from a gallop to a canter, Edwin quickly matched my declining speed and the carriages and other riders slowed down as well. Thus, we did not completely choke Mr. Collins with our dust, though he doubtless had much debris kicked up upon his clothing. After we passed him, I glanced over my shoulder and in that second or two saw he had pivoted toward us and straightened up; in seeing him it was most evident that it was indeed Mr. Collins.

Edwin pulled his horse up close to mine and asked, "Who was that buffoon? Only an idiot barely gets out of the way and waits to eat dirt."

"It is Mr. Collins, Lady Catherine's new parson. I have a passing acquaintance with him." I nudged my horse a little faster, feeling the increased roll of my bay's muscles as he complied. I was ready to be done with this conversation and get to Rosings.

I heard from the increased clopping gait of Edwin's horse that he had done likewise, although he was still a bit behind me. I heard his disembodied voice say, "Ah, I suppose we will see a lot of his bowing and scraping on this visit, then."

I made no response. It was not needed. My mind was elsewhere, moving down the lane with Mr. Collins towards the parsonage, wishing that I could go through his door and see Miss Elizabeth. But I knew I had to bide my time until at least the next day.

We arrived at Rosings at nigh a quarter past four. A servant, dressed in dark green (which apparently was the uniform color for the week), was waiting and immediately summoned others (also dressed in dark green) who collected the horses from us. While Georgiana and the other carriage occupants could enter the house, footmen began dabbing at each of the riders with a dampened cloth. I quickly snatched my assigned man's cloth away and finished up the task myself, but for permitting him to clean my boots. Only when we were deemed sufficiently clean, were we permitted inside.

Then we were each shown to our quarters by our assigned footmen, although in Edwin's and my case it was hardly necessary as we knew which rooms we would occupy per the usual arrangement. However, the familiar ritual of having my footman recite the same speech I heard year after year, was somewhat comforting. "I am to escort you to your room so that you may change and refresh yourself. Dinner will be served at half past six. Dress accordingly and be in the drawing-room no later than a quarter after six. If you wish to be sociable prior, Lady Catherine should be there until half past five."

We all did end up joining Lady Catherine and Cousin Anne before dinner, though I was the last to arrive in the drawing-room. As usual, Lady Catherine was dressed quite fine, on this day in a gown of the deepest blue, with a headdress that featured ostrich feathers, and a fine heavy topaz necklace. Anne's blonde hair was tangled, and she was wearing a high-necked pink gown with long sleeves, but I could see very little of it as she was covered with a thick navy colored blanket which appeared to be made from boiled wool. While the blanket cascaded to the floor, I could not see the outline of legs or feet, so I concluded she had them tucked up under her on her chair as she had long been wont to do. It was a bit odd to see a grown woman behave in such a way before company, but Anne seemed rather the same as always.

Lady Catherine declared upon my arrival, "Darcy, I am so glad you are all come. I am most pleased that dear Georgiana is visiting, too. It has been far too long! Rosings is a lonely place indeed when we have no guests. However, we have been enjoying the company of the Collinses and their visitors. Miss Elizabeth Bennet is a prettyish sort but gives her opinions most decidedly for someone so young." Lady Catherine shook her head and twisted her lips; it was evident to me that she did not approve. Then she added, "However, I doubt we will need their company much, now that you all are come."

I did not like how dismissive she was of them, especially Miss Elizabeth, but supposed it was not all that surprising. Lady Catherine was forever saying, "It seems like any man who owns a bit of property fancies himself a true gentleman. However, there is a vast difference between people of rank and the rest. Although my husband and your father were untitled, the vast riches of Rosings and Pemberley rendered them almost as good as nobility."

I heard Georgiana ask Anne (who was just beside her), "Tell me, Anne, what are the Collinses and their guests like? Fitz is acquainted with them all from his time in Hertfordshire." My ears strained to hear her reply, uncertain if Anne would deign to reply or not.

Lady Catherine answered for her in a loud tone, far louder than Georgiana. She would have entirely drowned out any reply Anne might have attempted to make, but Anne's lips remained closed. "Anne likes Mrs. Collins. Her sister Miss Lucas is a shy little thing. I think Miss Bennet too lively and impertinent to be a friend to Anne. What a strange household she must have been raised in, one of five sisters and no governess! Letting children decide for themselves whether to learn or be idle, it is not to be borne, and to have all five out at once, unheard of!"

She looked at me and Edwin, waiting perhaps for us to agree with her. We were both silent.

So then Lady Catherine enquired, "Darcy, Fitzwilliam, what do you think of such a thing? Darcy, what was your impression of this family?" She paused, rather than answering for me.

All eyes turned toward me, and my own eyes immediately sought the window for some relief. I thought of what I could say that would neither insult nor defend them. "I would not raise children that way, but perhaps Mrs. Bennet does not know any better." I caught myself before I could say that Mrs. Bennet was the daughter of a country attorney. "Mr. Bennet is well read and respected in that hamlet. Miss Elizabeth does not seem to have suffered from any neglect in the improvement of her mind." I felt my comments were perhaps not exactly prudent. I wondered how Miss Elizabeth would feel if she heard them.

"Yes, you are right," Lady Catherine pronounced. "I am certain Anne agrees with you that children require a suitable governess to raise them. You are of one mind when it comes to matters of importance. She will make you a most suitable wife."

My eyes found Georgiana and then passed over her to look at Anne. She was fiddling with her blanket and did not seem to be paying attention to her mother or anyone else. But I knew that just because she was not looking, that did not mean she was not listening.

I looked over from Anne into the space between her and her companion, Mrs. Jenkinson, while I tried to collect my thoughts. I knew I needed to muster words to counter Lady Catherine's declaration, for if I did not actively oppose Lady Catherine, she would take my silence as agreement.

Mrs. Jenkinson was an older woman whose once dark hair was now well threaded with white. I had known Mrs. Jenkinson for years as she had fulfilled many roles in Anne's life, first nurse, then governess and now companion. I imagined she would be with Anne until the day one of them died.

I remembered when Georgiana was a young child, taking her to see Anne. At first Georgiana was just beside me, but then was suddenly gone. I turned about and found her cowering against a wall and trembling. I was not quite sure what to do and, so, I took her by the hand, led her to Mother's chambers, turned the knob and brought her inside.

"Whatever is the matter?" Mother asked as Georgiana lept at her and was immediately enfolded in Mother's arms.

When Georgiana did not answer, Mother asked, "Fitz, what happened?"

I shook my head "no" and shrugged. "She was trying to hide behind me when we went to see Anne."

Mother pulled back a little from Georgiana and looked at her face. "Was Anne acting odd?" Mother gently stroked Georgiana's hair back from her face.

Georgiana shook her head in negation. Mother looked at me and I shrugged. I did not have the answer, either.

"Who else was there?" Mother asked me.

"Only Mrs. Jenkinson and a nursery maid," I replied.

Georgiana told mother and me, "She looks like a scary witch."

Mother began to laugh, "I never thought of it before, but you are correct, Georgiana. I shall never now not be able to see the resemblance. However, never say that in front of her. It would not be a kindness."

"What do you mean?" I asked. Mother proceeded to tell me, in exacting detail how it might hurt Mrs. Jenkinson's feelings if she thought we were demeaning her looks.

That memory was somehow meshing with the present. I had no wish to hurt Lady Catherine or Anne. I needed to correct my aunt without insulting my cousin.

However, oddly enough, back then I had not been asking about how the wrong words could hurt Mrs. Jenkinson. I was not so simple as to not know that. Instead I was wondering why Georgiana thought Mrs. Jenkinson looked like a witch.

I jostled my leg, waiting for Mother to finish as I knew it was rude to interrupt. I was also jostling my leg in the present, trying to let some of my anxiety give way.

I recalled I stilled my leg when Mother placed her hand upon it. "Now, now, Fitz, be easy." In the present I forced my leg to still also.

With my mother I explained, "That was not my question. How does Mrs. Jenkinson resemble a witch? Could not a witch look like any woman?"

In answer, Mother pulled out some illustrated books she was reading to Georgiana and flipped the page to a picture of a witch with a pointy nose and chin, and turned it upside down from herself as she thrust the bottom edge against me. I saw the resemblance then, and began to laugh, too.

In seeing Mrs. Jenkinson now, well she still looked like a witch, but now that she was older, she might also resemble a crone. Mrs. Jenkinson had a pointy, beak-like nose and very thin lips, surrounded with deep wrinkles and a noticeable jowl in her angular face. Today when she smiled, it looked lopsided, as if half of her face was partially frozen. It seemed to me that perhaps she was afflicted following an apoplectic fit. But I knew from our previous interactions that Mrs. Jenkinson was a kind woman who only wanted to be of use to Lady Catherine and Anne.

I pulled myself away from my jumbled thoughts and tried to focus on what I needed to do now. Already I had been silent too long and was allowing Lady Catherine's assumption that I would marry Anne, gain credence for lack of opposition.

I responded, "Anne and I have no understanding and would not suit, but she is dear to me as a cousin." I hoped this might strike an appropriate balance, be firm enough to dissuade Lady Catherine without hurting Anne. Although I had no real idea if Anne had any interest in marrying me, she might think it something that was inevitably going to happen based on all her mother had likely said about the matter over the years.

Lady Catherine leaned forward as if about to rise. Her eyes narrowed, her mouth tightly puckered and lines I had never seen before between her eyebrows suddenly emerged. I was not sure what that meant, but that whatever it meant it was not good. In other circumstances Edwin would have intervened, but on this topic, I could not expect any assistance.

Lady Catherine stood up from her high-backed chair, hands on her hips, as she had when I was younger and she was preparing to scold me, but before she could say anything, Georgiana intervened. "Lady Catherine, would it be possible to have time to practice the piano-forte? I am always trying to improve my performance."

As the string on a harp when plucked always plays the same note, we all knew what would follow Georgiana's request. Lady Catherine settled herself down, her face smoothed out and it was as if the previous expression had never existed. She placed all her attention on Georgiana and responded, "Now Georgiana, you must always be constantly practicing if you wish to achieve true proficiency. You cannot practice too much. You are very wise to bring it up so soon after arriving at Rosings."

Georgiana nodded and responded, "Yes, I wish to practice every day, but given our early start have not addressed an instrument yet today."

"That is very dedicated of you, Georgiana, just what I would have expected from your mother's daughter. Daughters are such a blessing; my Anne would have been just as diligent at practicing the pianoforte to achieve true proficiency if her health had allowed her to learn. How lovely it would have been to hear her play and how much we will enjoy it when you grace us with a performance. Music of all subjects is my delight and I am greatly desirous of hearing you. We might also discuss the great composers and perhaps I can suggest some new music for you to master. Yes, we must certainly do that." Lady Catherine was nodding, and I could not but think that she was agreeing with herself.

Lady Catherine added, "Georgiana, I think it would be wise if you start practicing now for what you will wish to play for us later. Though, given that you are likely tired from your journey, you need not provide the entertainment tonight. You may certainly practice upon the piano-forte in this room; it is the finest instrument in the house, likely in the whole of Kent. We shall endeavor not to pay it too much mind now, so that we might fully enjoy your performance later."

Georgiana, as I knew she would, asked, "Mrs. Jenkinson, might I use the instrument in your chambers instead?"

"Of course, Miss Darcy." Mrs. Jenkinson's speech was slightly odd, but understandable. I noticed that the weak side of her face was giving her trouble.

Georgiana hates to practice in front of certain people and Lady Catherine had long been one of that group since the first time thirteen-year-old Georgiana practiced in front of her at Pemberley. All was fine until Georgiana hit a wrong note. It was most evident that Georgiana knew of her error as she gave a little grimace just after doing it but proceeded on (it was in the chorus of the song and I knew that Georgiana would likely get it right on the next pass-through).

However, Lady Catherine felt the need to point out the error, loudly proclaiming, "That does not sound quite right." Perhaps it still might have been alright had Lady Catherine held her tongue afterward and just let Georgiana continue, but instead Lady Catherine got up, walked over to the piano-forte and declared in her most strident tone, "Stop, Georgiana, stop! You must go back to the beginning and do it right this time." Then she remained looking over Georgiana's shoulder. At that moment she looked like a vulture poised over a dying animal, ready to pick at it once it was gone.

Georgiana dutifully did as Lady Catherine instructed, but started making other mistakes under Lady Catherine's scrutiny. She got up abruptly and announced, "I am done. Please take me to Mother, Fitz."

At that time Mother was not well, but we still thought at that time it was only lingering grief from father's death, so I was in Georgiana's company much of the time beside meals and lessons which Mother still supervised. I dutifully escorted Georgiana back to Mother's rooms. Mother glanced at Georgiana's face and said, "Thank you, Fitz," before taking Georgiana inside and shutting me out.

I did not see Georgiana for several hours after that and when I did her nose was red as if she had been blowing it a lot. She confided to me then, "Oh Fitz, I cried and cried. I never want to practice in front of Lady Catherine again. Her advice is opposite to that of the master who instructs me. He says that I should continue to play if I make a mistake, for none are flawless, or if the trouble seems insurmountable, I should practice just the tricky part until I master it. Lady Catherine knows nothing of these matters, so why is she so convinced that she is right?"

Although the Georgiana of today was a little less sensitive than the one of yore, she still would never wish to rehearse in front of Lady Catherine. Once Georgiana was granted permission to use Mrs. Jenkinson's piano-forte, she asked in a gentle tone, "Anne, would you like to come with me?"

I saw Anne nod slightly and give a small smile. She slid her legs down and I saw that rather than slippers or shoes emerging from the edge of the blanket, that she merely had on white stockings.

Likely everyone but I was surprised at Georgiana's request. I was not surprised but pleased as I suspected that Georgiana had remembered a suggestion I had given her.

I was surprised that Anne agreed, but found it promising. I hoped Georgiana's overture might bear fruit and brighten Anne's life. The cousins and their companions departed together, leaving me and Edwin alone with Lady Catherine.

Upon their removal, fortunately my aunt found other topics to address besides my fictious engagement to Anne. I feared, however, that my aunt would not so easily forget this topic and it was sure to be raised again soon.

Edwin curled his lips in a movement that was not quite a smile, raised one eyebrow and then appeared to soundlessly laugh before turning toward Lady Catherine and asking in a bland tone, "When do you think Darcy and Anne should marry?"

Lady Catherine smiled and declared, "Oh, in the late spring and early summer Anne's health is best and there are lovely flowers in bloom to decorate the church and Rosings. Yes, I insist upon that timing, a May or June wedding. I can arrange the loveliest set of suites, that the Earl and his wife usually occupy for your permanent residence, Darcy. It has a view of the rose gardens but also appropriate privacy for newlyweds."

I felt anger and some other unnamed emotions. Why were they planning my life without me?

"That does sound ideal," Edwin agreed, nodding. "At the wedding breakfast you can serve those delicate tarts that Anne and Darcy both like, but I suppose it is too early for fresh berries for the compote."

Lady Catherine snapped her fingers, causing a dark green uniformed servant to scamper hither. "Grant, fetch my writing supplies." Then she told Edwin, "There is much I need to write, to plan their nuptials." It was evident to me that Lady Catherine was completely ignoring the fact that I had already declared that I did not wish to marry Anne.

Then picking up where she had left the last exchange with Edwin, Lady Catherine continued, "While there may be no berries yet, it is true, I have sufficient preserves from Rosings's bounty last summer for my cook to make the desserts and there is time yet for elegant gowns for me, Anne and Georgiana to be ordered. I insist you all stay until the wedding. Oh, and Georgiana must spend the bulk of her time here at Rosings with us and perhaps be presented at court next season."

I felt my face grow warm, but my tongue would not speak. I felt ill. They were arranging all the details of both mine and Georgiana's life without us.

"That would be most suitable," Edwin agreed, completely ignoring my presence in the room, "You should handle Georgiana's presentation and coming out season while Fitzwilliam and Anne remain here and concentrate on begetting the next heir for Pemberly and Rosings."

Lady Catherine clapped her hands together and remained clasping them tight, "Oh, how delightful to plan her presentation, to see her curtsey before the queen. I only wish Anne's health had permitted her to do likewise, but I am most certainly the most proper person to stand in my sister's stead. Darcy cannot care about things like that. He will be far happier staying here in the country with Anne. I so do long to be a grandmother, to see my kin fill the halls of Rosings."

By this time the servant had arrived with Lady Catherine's supplies, which consisted of a dark wooden tray with compartments that he set across and hooked over the two arms of her chair. On her left side the compartments held quills, a pen knife and other supplies. On the right there was a single compartment which held her ink pot. In between was a large surface with a raised edge. It was evidently designed to keep the paper where it needed to say, and already contained a sheaf of paper. It was a clever arrangement and if not for my growing anger, I would have been interested in inspecting the writing tray further and perhaps finding out from whom to commission it's like.

I needed to say something, I knew with absolute certainty that I did, but I was having trouble speaking, could not put together the words at that moment. I had a desire, an itch, to communicate in another way, as I often had when I was younger.

I wished to flip Lady Catherine's tray, to see her ink pot hit the wall, to see it shatter and splatter black ink upon her wall, rug and floor. I wanted to see the paper scatter all over the room, to snap the quills and stomp on her tray. If I could do that, they would know how angry I was, and it would feel right in the moment. Afterwards I would feel better until I calmed a bit and the shame and self-recriminations set in.

I sat more heavily in my seat, willed my tensed legs which were ready to lift my body into standing to remain still. I pressed my palms firmly into my legs, did my best to master myself and tried to muster my words into some coherence.

It was clear to me that it was no good, but I had to do something before my pent-up rage (for that is what it was by now) exerted itself in a way that could not be taken back. I settled for the first word I could get my rubbery lips and thick tongue to say. "Stop! Stop! Stop!" I cried. I could feel my face flushing.

With my outburst, I could feel some of my anger leave me. I fought for and regained my control, standing up slowly. Then more words found my lips. "Madam, that is quite enough. I will not be Anne's bridegroom. You and Edwin can keep your plans in place, with him taking my place."

I did not await their response but fled to my chambers. Without a word to Jeffrey, my valet, who was putting my clothes in a dresser, I pulled back the covers of my bed and lay down. He paused what he was doing; this had occurred before and as a loyal and trusted servant for me for many years he knew just what to do. He pulled my boots off, lifted the covers over me and left silently. I snuggled deeper down the bed and raised the covers over my head. I lay that way until I felt myself again and then got back up and read in a chair until Jeffrey returned to help me dress for dinner.