Chapter 39 - Lady Catherine's Displeasure
Lady Catherine set her cup down with a sharp click that made Hill flinch. Thank goodness she had remembered to bring her own tea - the smell of their common brew was offensive enough from where she sat. But where was Mr Collins? The man knew better than to keep her waiting. Her fingers drummed an irritated rhythm on the arm of the chair as she surveyed the silent women before her. The longer she waited, the more her displeasure grew.
While pretending to focus on her tea, Lady Catherine studied the women in the room - though she would not dignify them by calling them ladies. The forward aunt, Mrs Garwood, was not a lady at all. She must be Mrs Bennet's sister, the one who had married some lawyer in Meryton. At least the brother in trade had returned to London, so she need not endure his presence or that of his wife.
Then there were the cousins, particularly the dark one who was engaged to Mr Collins, whom she had met in London with Darcy. The girl's name started with an E, she was certain of that much. Elizabeth? No… Emily perhaps? Or was it Emma? She could not quite remember - though she supposed she ought to, given how much time the girl had spent conversing with her nephew that evening. Not that it mattered to someone of her consequence. After today's business was concluded, she would never have to see any of these people again.
The girl was comely enough, she supposed. She could understand why Mr Collins had decided to marry her, though she had thought his first letter mentioned pursuing the eldest. This one kept exchanging looks with the aunt and the blonde handsome sister - who was rather striking herself, she would do well in most drawing rooms. But from the glances being exchanged between them, it seemed this one was more than a pretty face. Most men when looking for an exceedingly pretty wife were not interested in one who could think for herself. She distinctly remembered seeing both sisters at that ball in London.
The other two girls were both darker haired than the pretty blonde one, but not as dark as the one engaged to Mr Collins, and neither was particularly handsome. The one in the corner had not looked up once from her book - some dreary volume that, from its size, must be sermons. Lady Catherine had always insisted Mr Collins read published sermons rather than write his own; the man had no gift for words. This girl, with her plain dress and studious attention to religious texts, seemed perhaps the least objectionable person in the room, though certainly the dullest.
The last girl was clearly the most nervous - as she should be in the presence of her betters. She sat near her elder sisters, and appeared younger than the others, though there couldn't be much difference between her and the one with the sermons. Her eyes darted between her teacup and the floor, though occasionally she would venture a timid glance at Lady Catherine, only to quickly look away again. Lady Catherine allowed herself a small smile of satisfaction; it was gratifying to see that some people still knew their proper place.
A murmur of voices from the hall caught Lady Catherine's attention - that housekeeper again, and yes, finally, Mr Collins' distinctive tones responding. Though she strained to make out the words, they remained frustratingly indistinct. Her hearing was not what it once had been, though she would never admit such a weakness to anyone.
The effect on the room was immediate - even the dull one with her sermons deigned to look up from her book. The others straightened in their seats, though Lady Catherine noted with disapproval how the dark-haired one - Emma, or whatever her name was - maintained that air of composure that so irritated her.
A moment later Mr Collins burst into the room, and Lady Catherine could barely suppress her shock at his appearance. The man was positively covered in mud - far worse than those occasions when she had caught him tending his garden at the parsonage. Really, to present himself to his patroness in such a state!
"Lady Catherine!" His voice held its usual fawning tone, though the effect was somewhat diminished by his dishevelled state. "If I had known you were waiting, I would have returned much sooner - much, much sooner! I am all mortification to have kept your ladyship waiting."
Mr Collins stood panting before her, clearly having rushed headlong through the house at the news of her presence. Lady Catherine observed with grim satisfaction how the Bennet women had all risen properly to their feet, though she noted that his intended - Emily, whatever the girl's name was - seemed more concerned with studying her betrothal's muddy state than showing proper deference to her future patroness.
Lady Catherine deliberately took one final sip of her tea before setting the cup down with precise care on the conveniently placed table beside her chair. Rising to her full height, walking stick firmly in hand, she fixed Mr Collins with her most commanding stare. The other women might as well have been furniture for all the attention she deigned to give them - they were entirely irrelevant to what must now be said.
"Is there another room in this… house where we might discuss some business?" she said, her tone making it clear what she thought of calling such a modest dwelling a house. Had it not been raining - she could hear the drops hitting the windows - she would have insisted on speaking outside. But Lady Catherine de Bourgh did not stand about in the rain, not even for matters as urgent as this.
Mr Collins started his usual fluttering and bowing, but before he could speak, that dark-haired girl - Elizabeth, that was it! - stepped forward. "You can take her Ladyship into my father's book-room," she said quietly to Mr Collins, though Lady Catherine noted with displeasure how the girl emphasized the word 'father's', as if she still had any claim to the house.
Lady Catherine did not wait for a reply from Mr Collins. "Well then, lead on," she commanded, her tone brooking no argument. Mr Collins scurried ahead of her like a frightened rabbit, leaving the other women to their insignificant concerns.
ooOoo
Elizabeth, who had maintained her composure through that interminable hour of Lady Catherine's disdain, finally allowed herself to move. As soon as the door closed behind their unwelcome visitor, she began pacing the drawing room, her forced stillness giving way to restless energy. The steady patter of rain against the windows seemed to echo her unsettled thoughts, casting the familiar room in gloomy shadows.
Her mind, which had been racing behind her calm façade while she sat politely drinking tea, now tumbled with possibilities. What could have brought Lady Catherine all the way from Kent? The great lady had made it clear during their previous meeting that she considered the Bennets beneath her notice - yet here she was, demanding private audience with Mr Collins. And why had she looked so disapproving when she mentioned Elizabeth's name, as if she knew something particularly distasteful? None of it made sense.
Elizabeth had barely completed her third circuit of the room when Lady Catherine's voice rang out from the book-room, clear enough to make speculation unnecessary. The great lady had apparently forgotten - or did not care - that the thin walls of Longbourn carried sound remarkably well, particularly when one was shouting.
"You must return Hunsford to my gift!" Lady Catherine's voice thundered through the house. "I will not have my living tainted by such a connection!"
Mr Collins' response was too muffled to make out through the walls, though Elizabeth caught the familiar cadence of his fawning tone. Whatever he said only served to further inflame his patronesses temper.
"No, you will not be appointing a curate!" Lady Catherine's voice rose even higher, if that were possible. "You will be returning Hunsford straight away. I shall give you one week to remove your belongings and I shall send my steward to oversee the transfer of the living, and I will appoint someone more… suitable to the position. Someone without such unfortunate connections."
Mr Collins' reply was barely audible through the walls, though Elizabeth thought she caught something about "arrangements" and "consideration for the ladies." Whatever his exact words, they did nothing to mollify Lady Catherine.
"Whether you marry the girl or not makes no difference now!" Lady Catherine's contempt cut through the walls like a knife. "That sister of hers - your own cousin - ran off while living under your roof. She was your responsibility, Mr Collins, just as all these females are now your responsibility. And you failed utterly in your duty. I will not have someone so incompetent associated with me or my parish."
Elizabeth stood frozen in the middle of the room, her pacing forgotten. She could hardly believe what she was hearing, yet one glance at her aunt and sisters' faces confirmed they had all understood Lady Catherine's meaning. After everything - her father's death, her sacrifice, her resignation to this marriage - Mr Collins was going to break their engagement because of Lydia! The irony of it might have made her laugh, if she weren't suddenly so light-headed with relief.
Lady Catherine's strategy was becoming clear - she meant to cut all ties, not just with the scandalous Bennets but with Mr Collins himself. His connection to them, however slight, had tainted him in her eyes. The great lady who had directed every aspect of his life, who had even chosen his future wife, was now casting him aside entirely.
Elizabeth sank down into a nearby seat, her knees suddenly weak. Could it really be possible? After weeks of resigned acceptance, of forcing herself to see some good in the match, could her engagement truly be at an end? The thought that Lydia's thoughtless, selfish actions might actually prove to be her salvation made her head spin. But Lady Catherine's strident tones suggested the great lady was far from finished with her pronouncements.
Mr Collins must have made another suggestion, for Lady Catherine's next words rang out with fresh scorn. "A cottage?" she demanded incredulously. "Why would that make any difference? Do you think housing them in some little cottage on the estate will somehow make this scandal more palatable?"
The sudden sound of their mother's voice from the doorway made everyone jump. Mrs Bennet had finally emerged from her room, still in her morning wrapper with her hair in ribbons, looking bewildered at finding her usually peaceful drawing room in such a state of tension.
"Who is shouting like that?" Mrs Bennet demanded, one hand pressed to her temple. Elizabeth couldn't help but smile slightly - even in the midst of chaos, her mother's curls were perfectly arranged in their ribbons, ready to face whatever crisis might arise. Some things, at least, remained constant.
Mrs Gardiner moved swiftly to take charge of the situation, guiding her sister-in-law with gentle firmness to join Elizabeth, who remained in her seat by the window. Jane immediately drew closer to her sister, her steadying hand on Elizabeth's arm, as they all turned their attention to their mother, whose bewilderment was rapidly giving way to agitation.
"It's Lady Catherine de Bourgh," Mrs Gardiner explained quietly, maintaining her composure as always. She turned to address Kitty, who had been hovering uncertainly near the tea table. "Please pour some fresh tea for your mother, dear, and ring for Hill. We may need more hot water - I suspect we shall be here for quite some time."
Mary piped up from the corner. "'One of the chief beauties in a female character is that modest reserve, that retiring delicacy, which avoids the public eye.' I believe that applies to raising one's voice."
Lady Catherine's strident tones from the book-room made Mary's words particularly apt.
Then they heard Lady Catherine's voice again. Clearly Mr Collins had been explaining his plan in more detail, since that great lady had been silent, or at least not yelling for the last few minutes.
Lady Catherine's voice rang out again after a brief silence. "So you are to marry this girl, a Miss Smith who you met two days ago? And your cousins, including the girl you are engaged to, are to live in a small cottage on the grounds?" Her tone dripped with scorn. "Is this your gratitude for my attentions to you over the last six months? You would be nothing without the support I have given you. Mr Collins, I am shocked and astonished. I expected to find a more reasonable young man, given your willingness to do what I have asked at Rosings. But do not deceive yourself that I will ever retreat from my position. I shall not go away till you have given me the assurance I require."
Mrs Bennet's hand shook so violently that the tea Kitty had just handed her sloshed dangerously close to the rim. Her face had gone quite pale, except for two bright spots of colour high on her cheeks.
"It looks like Mr Collins wants to break off your engagement, Lizzy," Mrs Gardiner said with barely concealed satisfaction. "And speaking of marrying another girl - well, that would certainly constitute a breach of promise. Though we should confirm the legal details with Mr Phillips, of course."
"But Lizzy has to marry Mr Collins!" Mrs Bennet's voice rose shrilly, her hands fluttering in distress. "What is to become of us all if she does not?" Before anyone could respond to this familiar refrain, Lady Catherine's voice cut through the air one final time.
"I take no leave of you, Mr Collins," the great lady's voice rang with cold fury. "I send no compliments to your cousins. You deserve no such attention. I am most seriously displeased!"
The book-room door crashed open, followed by the thunder of Lady Catherine's footsteps in the hall and the resounding slam of the front door. The whole house seemed to shudder with her departure.
"Well!" Mrs Gardiner said into the ringing silence. "That was certainly illuminating."
"But what are we to do?" Mrs Bennet wrung her hands. "If Mr Collins truly means to break the engagement—"
"I think," Elizabeth said quietly, speaking for the first time since Lady Catherine's tirade began, "we should wait to hear what Mr Collins has to say for himself."
Kitty, who had been hovering anxiously near the window, suddenly pressed her face to the glass. "There's a rider coming up the drive!" she exclaimed, momentarily distracted from the family drama. "An express rider, I think - no one we know."
"Lydia!" Mrs Bennet cried, her earlier concerns about Mr Collins instantly forgotten. In her excitement, she knocked over her fresh cup of tea. "It must be news of my poor dear girl!"
Jane and Elizabeth exchanged a quick glance before moving to clean up the spilled tea, both grateful for something practical to do while they waited. Elizabeth's hands trembled slightly as she mopped up the tea - after Lady Catherine's revelations and now possible news of Lydia, it seemed the morning's surprises were far from over.
Hill appeared at the door, her usual composure slightly ruffled by the morning's events. "An express has just arrived for you, Mrs Gardiner," she announced, presenting the letter on a silver tray.
"Thank you, Hill," Mrs Gardiner said calmly, though her hands betrayed her anxiety as she broke the seal.
Mrs Bennet immediately called for her smelling salts - "My nerves cannot bear this suspense!" - which Mary dutifully fetched, while the rest of the family watched Mrs Gardiner's face intently as she read.
Mrs Gardiner unfolded the letter, her eyes moving rapidly across the page. The others watched as her expression shifted from relief to concern.
"What does it say?" Mrs Bennet demanded, clutching her smelling salts. "Tell us at once!"
"It is from Edward," Mrs Gardiner said slowly, her eyes still moving across the page. "They have found Lydia—"
"Oh!" Mrs Bennet interrupted triumphantly. "They are married! My dear Lydia, not yet fifteen and already married! If only Mr Bennet had lived to see this day!"
"They are not married," Mrs Gardiner said firmly. "Mr Darcy's quick action in pursuing them has kept Wickham constantly on the move. Your uncle writes that they've found them shifting from inn to inn, never staying more than a few hours. Wickham grows more desperate with each move, drinking heavily and watching the door. Lydia is beginning to see him as he truly is, though pride keeps her from admitting her mistake. They mean to remove her tonight, while Wickham's nerves are frayed and before he can do any real harm."
Jane gasped. Mary's face went white. Elizabeth leaned forward, her hands gripping the back of a chair. "But would that—" she began, then stopped, unable to finish the thought.
"Force?" Mrs Bennet's voice rose shrilly. "What nonsense is this? Of course they must be married!"
"They will try to bring her home tonight," Mrs Gardiner said with quiet authority. "They found them only hours ago. Mr Darcy—" she glanced at Elizabeth "—had a good idea where Mr Wickham might go. They've nearly caught up with them several times. We'll have more news as soon as they can send it."