Tact Page 4

  Lady Catherine, waving off Mr. Collins’s eulogy to her daughter as one would an errant fly, spoke over him, “Yes, yes, Mr. Collins, we must endure as best we can. My daughter is of a delicate constitution and thus we are to expect her occasional absence.” The butler entered and solemnly informed her Ladyship that dinner was waiting to be served at her pleasure. “Good, we shall go in now. Fitzwilliam, you will escort me. Darcy, take Miss Bennet in. Mr. Collins, you will have to make do with your wife.”

  Thus Elizabeth found herself seated next to Mr. Darcy, who, annoyingly, had no notion that she was still vexed with him over the matter of curtailing her solitary walks. He saw her properly seated, and with due diligence ensured that her plate was amply filled and her glass brimming. Elizabeth thanked him with cool civility and, once her Ladyship had picked up her fork, commenced sampling her meal with great concentration.

  It was unfortunate, given Elizabeth’s plans for retaliation, that Mr. Darcy seemed as content to ignore her as she was him. Consequently, there was little speech between them throughout the meal save that which pertained to the food. Elizabeth nearly lost her icy politeness when he offered to water her wine for her and responded with more sharpness than Mr. Collins would have desired, had he but been able to overhear from his position lower down the table.

  “Thank you, Mr. Darcy, I am almost at the age of attaining my majority and have not needed to have my wine watered for many years now, but please,” and here she gave a comforting pat to his forearm that rested on the table, “should you wish to do so to yours, do not feel in the least bit ashamed of it. My own father, you know, suffers from gout occasionally so I realise that when gentlemen get older it is often necessary to not imbibe quite so much as they did in their youth.”

  Having let her shaft fly, Lizzy smilingly took a swallow of her drink.

  The man sitting next to her watched her do so, his eyes narrowing after a moment before he turned his head to his left and with very deliberate calmness addressed his aunt.

  “Miss Elizabeth and I were having an interesting conversation a few days ago, Aunt Catherine. We wished to seek your opinion on a matter of convention.”

  Lizzy set her wine down with a snap.

  Pleased, her Ladyship bade him elaborate, and Mr. Darcy, with what Lizzy could only describe as malice, threw her a provocative look as he did so.

  “It is merely that there seems to be a sad tendency in modern society to neglect the care of young ladies. Very often it is considered quite unexceptionable for them to scamper unprotected about the countryside. I do not think it at all seemly.”

  Lady Catherine was quite adamant that young ladies of rank ought to be treated with the greatest of care; why, she herself as a young girl was never even permitted to leave the house without a male to ensure her wellbeing. “It is quite shocking, Darcy, the amount of licence that is allowed these modern young women. It will certainly not end there, you may depend upon it. Why, I heard only the other day from dear Lady Metcalf that her daughter, who is becoming quite the bluestocking, you know, had asked her father if she might not attend Oxford with her brother. Her Ladyship seemed to think it was a matter of great amusement.”

  Her guests paid due attention to Lady Catherine's strictures on the matter, Mary looking quizzically at Elizabeth’s flushed cheeks.

  “Of course, that is not to say that a woman's education ought to be neglected. I myself was educated at a very select seminary,” finished her Ladyship, with great satisfaction, not at all concerned that she had wandered from the point.

  Sadly, her favourite nephew was not in a pleasant humour that evening, for he returned with a sally that made her grimace.

  “I cannot see that it is at all necessary to educate a female so well while their prospects are so narrow. It seems a waste of funds and resources when the most that will be required of them is to run homes for their husbands and rear children.”

  Lady Catherine stared at him. Mrs. Collins threw him a look that almost amounted to contempt and then directed it at her husband when she saw him nodding thoughtfully. Colonel Fitzwilliam frowned at him.

  It was Miss Bennet, carefully setting down her knife, who was provoked, as perhaps Mr. Darcy had intended, into responding.

  “I quite agree with you, Mr. Darcy.” Four sets of brows were raised and Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled. “If one is to judge the usefulness of learning only by the use to which it is put, then it is a waste to educate those who have no use for it. Especially when, as you have pointed out, there is a lifelong occupation that is destined for them once they have reached adulthood.” Elizabeth cast a glance at her hostess and the surprised expression on Mr. Darcy’s face before continuing, “In fact, in accordance with your opinions, I see no necessity at all of educating eldest sons – what need have they of expanding their minds when their destiny is clear? They ought only to be schooled as far as is needed to adequately run an estate.”

  Over Colonel Fitzwilliam's crack of laughter, Elizabeth’s eyes met those of Lady Catherine’s, wishing to gauge the level of offence she might have caused with such a saucy speech.

  Lady Catherine de Bourgh, quite unmistakably, smirked.

  Chapter Six

  Once the dinner guests had departed, Lady Catherine and her nephews returned to the drawing room. Mrs. Jenkinson was summoned to give an account of how Miss de Bourgh fared, and reported that she had been feeling very unwell indeed, and recommended that the doctor be sent for in the morning if there was no improvement overnight. Her Ladyship nodded briskly before dismissing the woman for the evening and offering tea to Mr. Darcy and the colonel.

  They sat in companionable silence for a while until Lady Catherine was once again seated and stirring her tea pensively.

  “Miss Bennet reminds me very much of myself when I was a young lady. Before Sir Lewis offered for me, I mean. I am quite pleased with her and should be very glad to assist her in settling well. She wants only a little push and she should do very creditably. It is only a pity she is not better dowered. Mr. Collins seemed to think there is not much to divide among the Bennet girls after Mr. Bennet dies.”

  Mr. Darcy, who was clearly not as favourably inclined towards assisting Miss Bennet’s matrimonial prospects as was his aunt, forebore to break his silence, finding instead a fascination with the intertwined floral patterns on his teacup.

  Colonel Fitzwilliam, throwing his cousin a reproachful laughing glance, obliged his aunt by entering into the spirit of usefulness which she so enjoyed.

  “I agree, Aunt, she is very charming, but I cannot immediately think of any of my acquaintance that would do for her. I daresay she would be glad of any introductions you could secure for her if indeed she is lacking in portion. Mr. Collins ought to know if anyone does, I imagine, but I should not like to see her matched with anyone unworthy, or too elderly.”

  “Too true, Fitzwilliam. She needs a young man; that is quite plain.” She sipped at her tea, satisfied that it was perfectly brewed to her requirements. If there was one thing in which Lady Catherine excelled, it was attention to the smaller details in life. “Clearly, the fellow ought to be a gentleman – the girl has breeding, it is evident. I deplore seeing fine young women with excellent lineage married off to tradesmen simply on account of a lack of funds. It has led to a sad decline in families with unbroken noble lineage. What of Lord Bath? He is young enough and wealthy enough to be able to afford her – last I heard he was on the lookout for a wife, and he is of a good age to begin a family.”

  “Stodge!” exclaimed the Colonel, “oh no, dear Aunt. The lovely, vivacious Miss Bennet with such a slow top? I wonder that you could countenance it. He wouldn’t understand above half of the things she says and she’d run circles round him to boot.”

  Mr. Darcy was evidently paying some heed to the conversation for he smiled at this.

  “A fair point, nephew,” graciously conceded the lady. “What of Mr. Aldridge then? He is young, wealthy, and lively enough for Miss Bennet. I was goddaughter to his grandmama, you know. His mother was a fine woman, and so very amiable. It is a pity her last confinement ended so unhappily. She has not been the same since and I am very much afraid that she mollycoddled her son as a result.”

  “No,” said Mr. Darcy succinctly, entering into the subject at last. “He is not suitable.”

  “And why, pray, would you say such a thing? I know of no ill against him.” Lady Catherine had a wide enough circle of gossiping acquaintances to feel that if she was unaware of tonnish news it must be either very recent or untrue. “What have you to accuse him of? The Aldridge estate is worth a clear seven thousand, from what I understand.” This, it would seem, provided significant defence against untoward behaviour.

  Colonel Fitzwilliam shook his head, flushing slightly. “I’m afraid Darcy is quite correct. He would not do at all.”

  “But why, Fitzwilliam? I must insist on knowing.”

  His mouth set in a grim line, Mr. Darcy looked even more severe than usual, and every bit, thought Lady Catherine irrelevantly, like his father. “I’d be the worst sort of reprobate to sully your ears with the truth about Matthew Aldridge, Aunt Catherine. Neither I nor Fitzwilliam will speak of it.”

  Quite burning with curiosity on the subject, Lady Catherine opened her mouth to argue but was prevented by the colonel.

  “I declare! Miss Elizabeth could do little better than to take up with a dashing soldier,” smiled the colonel modestly. He was only half jesting.

  “Out of the question.” This from Mr. Darcy, and said in such acid tones that his cousin marvelled at his severity.

  “Well now, how serious you are, cousin! I daresay you have a better notion.”

  A gleam in her eye, Lady Catherine mockingly supposed that Darcy thought Miss Bennet require
d a husband who could do something about that tongue of hers.

  Mr. Darcy blushed, and his cousin, having a brain that clearly operated in a similar male fashion, murmured, “I’d not mind making the attempt.” To which he received a stern glare from the gentleman, who did not, apparently, think that such things should be insinuated in front of one's aunt.

  Her Ladyship, resolutely ignoring her nephew’s impertinent attempt to protect her tender ears, rose and announced that she had remembered that she owed a letter to her godsister, and that she would retire to her rooms for the night. She directed them to the library, in which she had ordered the decanters replenished.

  Happy to accommodate her, the gentlemen rose, bowed, and bade her have a good night's rest.

  Once in the library and seated with his drink, the colonel sprawled on a small settee by the fire. Mr. Darcy stood, glass in hand, staring at the dancing flames.

  “I can not help but wonder, cousin, why a man who well-nigh bludgeoned Matlock into setting up a schoolhouse for disadvantaged girls would suddenly hold such strong views against female education – particularly when even a simpleton could see that not one of the females at table would be best pleased.”

  Darcy did not deign to respond at first, so Fitzwilliam, the germ of an idea now growing in his head, continued, “Miss Bennet looked ready to thrust her knife at you.”

  Darcy shrugged and said haughtily, “The lady thought to punish me by ignoring my existence. It was necessary to put her in her place. I’d have done the same to any dinner companion of mine that treated me so.”

  “Hmm,” said his cousin, not quite convinced. “One also cannot help but wonder why a young man who by all appearances is quite indifferent to Elizabeth Bennet's considerable charms would be so against the suggestion that she might like to wed a military man.”

  Here Mr. Darcy dragged his gaze away from the fire. “It would be insupportable, Fitzwilliam; that is all.”

  “Come now! You cannot object to the lady, surely. No one could. If you do not consider her a suitable wife for a common soldier such as myself, how much lower must the poor girl look for a husband?” he waited for some minutes for a response and had to content himself only a level look in reply. “Or – is the question one should ask, how much higher?”

  The next morning found the inmates of Rosings occupied with their own tasks. Lady Catherine was seeing her steward, Miss de Bourgh was still abed, and Mr. Darcy was much occupied in writing numerous letters, the recipients of which he refused to reveal to his cousin.

  Colonel Fitzwilliam, feeling quite bored, wandered over to the parsonage to see if Miss Bennet could be persuaded to accompany him on a long walk.

  Miss Bennet, it turned out, had been longing for a ramble that morning, but, the manservant and Mr. Collins being too busy, had been unable to get out of the house. She fetched her coat and bonnet in a trice and very soon they had set off, at Miss Bennet's request directing their steps toward the old abbey.

  The sky was cloudy, but every now and then the sun broke through the cover and gave of its warmth. There were signs of spring about the countryside. Crocuses and hyacinths were trying to shake off their winter slumber and burst forth in colour. They were late this year, but it would not be long before they bloomed.

  Miss Bennet was a good walker, the colonel discovered; there was only a small adjustment of pace needed for them to be quite comfortable together. Her face reddened slightly with the exertion but there was little sign of fatigue, even after they had covered a mile.

  He remarked on it.

  “You are a true countrywoman, I see, Miss Bennet. I know of many women in town who insist that they love to walk but, when put to the test, rarely live up to the challenge of anything more than a slow trudge across the park.”

  His fair companion laughed at him. “Am I under scrutiny, Colonel? Shall you have me court-martialed if I fail to obey your marching orders with sufficient energy? I am fond of walking; at home, it is my invariable practice to walk a couple of miles before breakfast or I find myself unable to manage myself for the rest of the day. I become, according to my sisters, quite intolerable if I wake up to discover heavy rain...Oh!”

  She stopped short where she was, in delight. They had until then been compassing a coppice, and having just entered through the gate to cut through, discovered that within the shelter of the trees a blanket of bluebells had thrived. Dappled light broke through the deep green canopy and lit up, in patches, the thick carpet of purple.

  Miss Bennet dropped her voice and sighed in contentment. “How utterly enchanting. I think I shall come here at least a dozen times more while I am in Kent and still not be satisfied that I have seen it enough. What a pity it is that I do not paint!”

  She was an engaging creature, thought the colonel – lively and pretty and...but he would not think of such things. Instead, he gallantly decreed in pompous tones that the coppice should now be called “Miss Bennet’s coppice,” but if she would be so good as not to mention to Lady Catherine that they had stolen it from her, he would be obliged.

  Elizabeth, laughing again, was quite prepared to tease him mercilessly on the subject of a soldier’s cowardice when confronted with an upset aunt, and did so at length as they journeyed through the bluebells. Emerging from the other side, she had mercy on him and instead quizzed him on the ruined abbey that now lay before them.

  “Darcy and I used to play here as boys, Miss Bennet; we would walk along the tops of these ruined walls and pretend to be pirate ghosts and all manner of nonsensical things.”

  “Pirates haunting an abbey, Colonel Fitzwilliam? Nonsensical indeed. Did you never venture up here at the dead of night, dressed in monks’ robes to frighten each other senseless? I am disappointed.”

  “Had we left our beds at Rosings in the middle of the night we should have been senseless – if our aunt didn’t catch us, our uncle would have. Sir Lewis de Bourgh, Miss Bennet, was not a man to take pity on two young miscreants.”

  “Ah, you have not had the advantage then, of being raised with sisters. Should we have engaged in such mischief, we should have taken very great care not to be caught. Now do tell me, Colonel, am I now standing in the chapter house or the kitchens? Should I be intruding on a monk’s sleeping quarters, do inform me and I shall vacate them immediately, for I should not at all like to scandalise the dead.”

  They spent some time wandering around the ruins, Miss Bennet graciously accepting his vague answers to her more historical questions. She was noncommittal when he advised her that Darcy was really the man to ask about family history, he having a very good memory for the accurate retention of facts.

  When the colonel completed his explanations and they retraced their footsteps, Elizabeth mused smilingly that she had not enjoyed a morning half so much since she had come into Kent – no, not even that first morning when they had all needed to catch Fat Martha in the pouring rain.

  She was begged earnestly to share the details of their escapade and did so, the two of them laughing heartily at the picture she painted of herself and the Collinses – so ridiculous in their incompetence at returning a naughty sow to her sty.

  Colonel Fitzwilliam rather thought that she was the most companionable woman he had ever encountered, and while he would need to hint gently to her that he was in no position to offer for any woman who was not very wealthy, he was quite determined to take what enjoyment he could from her company for the little while he had left in Kent.

  Chapter Seven

  Mr. Darcy, at the same time his idle cousin was out walking with Miss Bennet, was sitting with Lady Catherine de Bourgh in the smaller of the sitting rooms that overlooked the front entrance of the main house. Having just bade farewell to the family doctor, they seated themselves together to discuss Anne.

  Lady Catherine sat gravely still while Mr. Darcy, his elbows resting on the arms of his chair, steepled his long elegant fingers together, deep in thought. She was not able to bear the silence for long.