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  Nettled, Colonel Fitzwilliam responded, “Darcy, simply because she didn't accept you does not mean she would refuse me – I am considered to be very charming, you know.”

  “You can’t afford her,” returned Darcy bluntly, his mood quite soured by jealousy and a smarting conscience.

  The hallway clock struck the hour, the deep chime echoing into the room. Fitzwilliam waited for the echoes to fade.

  “Is that not that for her father to determine?”

  “He would very quickly determine that you could not adequately support her once I put a stop to your annuity and bought up your debts.”

  The colonel laughed at the fine jest. “You are forgetting how well I know you, cousin. You aren’t a vindictive man; you didn't even do as much as that when Wickham earned your disfavour.”

  A certain malicious savagery was present in Mr. Darcy's face as he answered very carefully and clearly so as not to be misunderstood. “I don't think you quite understand the matter, Fitzwilliam. If you take so much as one metaphorical step in Miss Bennet’s direction save as her eventual cousin by marriage, I will very deliberately arrange matters so that there could be no possibility of you being considered eligible.”

  “Hold now, steady on, Darcy,” said the colonel, a little alarmed at such uncharacteristic ferocity. “I am your kin, man! You’d not do it. Come – I shall cry friends and withdraw from the field. I wasn’t really serious anyhow.”

  Very quietly, so that his cousin had to lean in a little to hear him, Mr. Darcy made it evident that though the colonel may not have been serious, he was. “I doubt very much that there is anything I would not do, Fitzwilliam – if it meant that she could be brought to marry me.”

  “I beg your pardon, sirs. I am seeking out Lady Catherine – I was informed that she was on her way to the library. I must have missed her.”

  Not having heard the library door opening, both men started visibly at the soft, nervous tones of Mrs. Jenkinson, who appeared as though she would rather be anywhere else in the world but in this room seeking out her mistress.

  Recovering first, Mr. Darcy gestured with his hand. “As you see, madam, she is not present. May I assist you?”

  “N-no, sir. It is just that Miss de Bourgh wishes to see her mother and the footman said that he had seen her come this way but ten minutes ago. I shall ask elsewhere. Forgive me for having disturbed you; it is merely that Miss de Bourgh was adamant that her Ladyship be summoned to her rooms.”

  “Do not distress yourself; you were right to enter. Fitzwilliam, you are the nearer – pull the bell. The butler will be able to enlighten us as to Lady Catherine's whereabouts. There can certainly be no necessity for you to tire yourself by seeking her out all over the house. Do be seated, Mrs. Jenkinson.”

  The butler, being summoned, was indeed able to impart the needed information, but, having helpfully done, so was not congratulated upon his professional efficiency.

  “Her Ladyship departed approximately five minutes ago in the carriage, sir. The hour had just passed, I believe. Having exited the library, she bade me instruct the stable that they must make it ready immediately. A matter of some urgency, I gather.”

  Perplexed, Mrs. Jenkinson looked to Colonel Fitzwilliam, who in his turn was looking in open-mouthed dismay at his cousin. Mr. Darcy’s eyebrows were raised high on his noble brow. He dismissed the butler politely and shot a warning glance at the colonel, who was evidently feeling unwell, for he started to babble incoherently.

  “Do you think? I suppose...I mean, surely…oh dear.”

  “Quite so.”

  “Should we…?”

  Mr. Darcy did not choose to answer the bedlamite; instead, he bowed to the worried Mrs. Jenkinson with great elegance. “I beg you to return to your charge, madam. Colonel Fitzwilliam and I shall seek out her Ladyship and return her to you as shortly as possible.”

  The two gentlemen left the library with great alacrity. Colonel Fitzwilliam was the speedier in retrieving his hat and gloves and making it out of the house. Mr. Darcy, who had the longer stride, soon overtook him and the two cousins hastened their way on foot towards the parsonage.

  They were admitted by the maid, who was seen to be in a state of great excitement at the goings on, and upon nearing the parlour they heard with dread the strident tones of their aunt carrying clearly throughout the house.

  “...absolutely insist that you immediately retract your ill-thought refusal even though I cannot for the very life of me fathom why my nephew should wish to be allied with a silly little miss who cannot see what is best for her own future.”

  Mr. Darcy, pale of face but steady of hand, pushed open the door to the parlour to see Lady Catherine de Bourgh and Miss Bennet facing each other with great hostility.

  “I cannot either, Lady Catherine,” said Elizabeth Bennet, very drily. “I am afraid that he quite neglected to say.”

  Chapter Twelve

  As she finished uttering those blighting words, the door to the parlour swung open to reveal Mr. Darcy, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and a very interested maid. The maid was easily dealt with by a raised eyebrow and direct stare; the other occupants of the room were not, alas, likely to be so quickly dismissed.

  Elizabeth knew a moment of shame when her eyes met Mr. Darcy’s – the expression in them was one of wounded feelings. She felt that she was hardly in a position to complain of him hurting her pride if she went about trampling over his. Mr. Darcy raised an eyebrow as if to offer aid. She quickly made a decision to accept any ally available to her, but hoped he would not see her current need of him as encouragement. Had it just been herself and Lady Catherine, she could have quite possibly managed the woman with a little stretching of the truth and a great deal of circumspection.

  Sadly, Lady Catherine had arrived at the parsonage in high dudgeon, most indignant on behalf of her favourite sister’s only son, at the same time that the Collinses had returned from their duties in the village, so the little parlour was quite overcrowded.

  Neither her brother nor her sister was likely to be the least bit of help – Mary was looking too astonished even to speak and her brother was in the decidedly uncomfortable position of being torn asunder in his loyalties. With some dark amusement, she considered the effect of reminding the assembled gathering that no man can serve two masters at once. Perhaps not, although whatever his faults, she suspected that Mr. Darcy might understand the quip.

  “Ah! Mary dearest – you are positively inundated with callers today; here are Mr. Darcy and the good colonel. It is not strictly the hour for calls but I daresay I can hunt down the cook if you wish me to?” said Elizabeth, with great sweetness, hoping to rouse her sister out of her awkward stupor and into her duties as a hostess.

  Mrs. Collins started and began to stammer. “Oh. Yes, I mean. No, Lizzy, I shall go myself, thank you. I am sure there are some biscuits to s-serve with the tea.” Then, recollecting herself, curtsied to the gentlemen, “I beg your pardon; welcome to you, Mr. Darcy, and you also, Colonel Fitzwilliam. Do sit down; I shall be back directly. Lizzy, you will not mind sitting on the stool by Mr. Collins, will you? I fear that there aren’t enough chairs in here at present.” With that, she quit the room, deeply regretting that etiquette manuals did not cover such a situation as one’s elder sister rejecting the richest man of their acquaintance who also happened to be the nephew of one’s irate patroness. It was all very awkward, and for some reason she could not quite name, she felt decidedly annoyed that she had been put in such a position.

  Elizabeth, feeling as though she were in a farce, nodded at the men and retreated from the field to sit on the low stool beside Mr. Collins’s chair. Mr. Collins looked down at her worriedly and opened his mouth once or twice before opting for neutral silence. Fond of his sister-in-law he might be – indeed he believed her the embodiment of every admirable feminine virtue – but he felt quite unequal to the task of calling Lady Catherine to task for her (he was forced to admit it) uncivil behaviour.

  Lady Catherine consented to be led to the most comfortable seat in the parsonage by her military nephew, and Mr. Darcy went to sit beside her.

  He took a moment to draw a fortifying breath and began. “You have been misled, Aunt Catherine. Miss Bennet has most kindly given her consent to my calling on her in Hertfordshire pending her father’s permission. There is also a matter that I must amend in town before I can do so. No fault lies with Miss Bennet for her refusal – I was precipitous.”

  This was a very charitable speech, coming from Mr. Darcy, thought Elizabeth. Having blamed only himself, he had rescued her brother from Lady Catherine’s ire. Poor Mr. Collins was sat beside her not knowing what to do with himself. He did not know if he ought to look cross with his sister or defensive on her behalf. How did one reprove a lady that Mr. Darcy himself approved of? One did not. He gaped again and grunted, hoping it might pass muster.

  Mr. Darcy aided him at a pleading glance from Elizabeth. “Miss Bennet was most indignant on your behalf, Mr. Collins, that I should have paid my addresses to her without first seeking your consent as her temporary guardian. I apologise, sir. I can only offer my regrets that I did not consider it.”

  Mr. Collins graciously waved his hand, which was supposed to indicate that any apology from such a great gentleman as Mr. Darcy was entirely unnecessary. “No indeed, sir; I would not have you give it a moment’s thought.”

  Deciding that Mr. Collins ought to be cultivated, Darcy turned to address his aunt. “I do not think that this conversation ought to take place with so large an audience, madam. I am sure that if you will return with us to Rosings, I can allay any concerns you might have without imposing on the hospitality of the Collinses or causing Miss Bennet any more upset than she has endured already today.”

  “I
came to speak with Miss Bennet on your behalf, Darcy, and I shall not go away until I am satisfied with the outcome. If your natural modesty has caused you to underrate yourself in your propositions, then the situation must be rectified. My dearest sister would wish it, I am convinced.”

  Glancing at Miss Bennet, who had bitten her lip at the thought of Mr. Darcy being considered modest, with a questioning look and receiving a minute nod, Mr. Darcy turned his head to address Mr. Collins once more, just as his wife entered with the tea tray.

  Tea was poured and thoughts were collected in a civilised fashion. Lady Catherine even unbent so far as to commend Mrs. Collins on the preparation of the blend. Mrs. Collins replied with the mundane details, and Colonel Fitzwilliam, having felt rather useless in general, leapt in to aid the polite topic along.

  Mr. Darcy sat near Elizabeth and spoke to her in a low voice, with Mr. Collins at her other side pretending that he was quite deaf. Doubtless he would one day make a most excellent chaperone, should he be blessed with daughters.

  “I must again beg your pardon, Miss Bennet. I had thought that my conversation with my cousin was a private one. I fear that Lady Catherine wished to advocate for me and instead has had quite the opposite effect to the one she has intended.”

  Elizabeth sipped her tea thoughtfully. “I daresay, sir, that we can both be blind to the faults of our relatives on account of our great regard for them. You need not apologise for the doings of others, Mr. Darcy.”

  “I see.”

  “If you think that permitting Lady Catherine to present her case, or your case, as it were, will soothe any ruffled feathers and so make things easier for my sister and brother, then I am willing to listen. I will not make wild promises to her once she has done so, but perhaps if we were in a more private setting….”

  “You are a very kind woman, Miss Bennet,” he said sincerely. “I ought to have said so sooner, I think. Do not concern yourself; I believe I may manage my aunt once she has climbed down from the rafters. We had better go into another room.”

  Elizabeth blushed. and Lady Catherine, looking over at that moment, looked pleased and said something in a low voice to Colonel Fitzwilliam. Mrs. Collins went to fuss over the tea tray and the two were left to themselves.

  Mr. Darcy quietly asked Mr. Collins if he might have the use of his book room to speak to Miss Bennet with his aunt present. Apparently unable to deny Mr. Darcy anything, the clergyman readily agreed, apologising profusely for its smallness but pointing out its excellent view of the road in compensation.

  The three of them left Mrs. Collins’s parlour and once again caught the maid loitering in the hallway. When faced with the displeased stares of Lady Catherine, Mr. Darcy, and Miss Bennet, she did not feel so much like enjoying the situation and she bobbed a hasty curtsey.

  Darcy held open the door for the ladies and, with a pointed look at his aunt, ensured that the latch was properly clicked shut. To her credit, Lady Catherine merely raised a brow at him, shrugging elegantly, and addressed Miss Bennet.

  “Well now, Miss Bennet. I make no apology for my intrusion into your sister's parlour this afternoon, much as my nephews might wish I would. My own sister, Miss Bennet – the Lady Anne Fitzwilliam – considered herself pleased to accept the Darcys of Pemberley as the quality family that they were – indeed as they still are. If the daughter of an earl – a woman of considerable intellect and character – did not spurn such an alliance, what possible reason might you have to hesitate?”

  “I have explained my reasons for my reluctance to Mr. Darcy, Your Ladyship. I am very aware of the very great honour that Mr. Darcy has bestowed. I hope I did not give the impression, sir, that I found you in any way lacking.”

  “Miss Bennet, there can be no reproaching your conduct,” said he, very gently.

  “Well then! That shows some sense at least. I am glad that my estimation of you was not far out, but then I am so rarely wrong in these things. You could not find a finer man than my nephew, Miss Bennet. You may think me a partial old woman, and perhaps I am, but I will say this for him – he is not at all like some of the other, less worthy young men you might find of similar rank and station. I cannot think of any woman of marriageable age that would not leap at the opportunity to step into my sister’s shoes at Pemberley and yet you will not. Why? There can be no fault found in my nephew.”

  Gravely, Mr. Darcy thanked his aunt for such a lively defence. The sarcasm was completely lost on her and she accepted his gratitude as her due.

  Elizabeth slowly defended herself. “I confess myself most confused, Lady Catherine. I would have thought that you would baulk at the suggestion I should be married into your...er...august family. I have heard from more than one source that you had intended Mr. Darcy to wed Miss de Bourgh. I do not say this to bandy about idle gossip, but as we are speaking so frankly at present I can see no harm in it. I should not in the least wish to supplant Miss de Bourgh.”

  “From whom can you have heard such a thing?” exclaimed Lady Catherine, blithely ignoring the truth of the gossip.

  Unwilling to damage her brother’s standing with his patroness and having learnt from the colonel yesterday that Mr. Wickham's name was not one to be uttered, Elizabeth searched in her head for an acceptable answer.

  “From Mrs. Garron, I believe.” said she, after the briefest of hesitations, feeling secure in the knowledge that Lady Catherine could not possibly vent her wrath on a dead woman.

  Mr. Darcy looked at Elizabeth penetratingly and she lowered her gaze to her lap, afraid that she might be caught out. She was reminded once again that this was not a stupid man who would readily believe anything a young lady might say. He said nothing, however, but returned his stare to the other occupant of the room, who was presently ignoring the commonly held belief that one ought not to speak ill of the dead.

  Once having exhausted that train of thought, Lady Catherine returned to her subject with all the single-mindedness of a harrier after its prey.

  “I suppose you are to be commended for your consideration of my and my daughter's feelings, Miss Bennet. I am able to assure you that there is no such intention and you are therefore free to marry my nephew with my blessing. A better match you could not wish for, I am certain.”

  Alarmed at the satisfied finality in her voice, Elizabeth responded quickly, “Your Ladyship is very generous. I am sure that once I am able to speak to my father, he will advise me what is best to be done. I do not feel that such a...a momentous decision should be rushed into. Mr. Darcy must excuse me from committing myself before I have considered all of the ramifications.”

  He was beaten to excusing her by his aunt.

  “Hmmm. I suppose that shows wisdom. Too many young girls nowadays rush headlong to accept the first offer that they are given and give no thought to how they will cope with the demands of being a wife. When you do accept my nephew, you may be assured that I will be most willing to guide you.”

  Her eyes wide, Elizabeth looked vaguely panicked and managed to stammer out her thanks. Mr. Darcy, evidently feeling that Miss Bennet had endured enough that day, stood.

  “Let us leave Miss Bennet to her thoughts, Aunt. I am sure that you will be wanting to see Anne immediately. Mrs. Jenkinson sought you in the library – she was asking for you, I believe.”

  Curious, Elizabeth silently observed Lady Catherine’s now pinched expression and the comforting hand Mr. Darcy laid on her shoulder, and drew her own, fairly accurate, conclusions.

  They returned to the parlour to take their leave of the Collinses. Lady Catherine, now pleased with her measure of success, did so with gracious condescension. Mr. Collins, evidently relieved by this, regained his tongue and took the opportunity to pontificate upon his dear sister’s good nature and obedience.

  “Such a docility of spirit is sadly rarely seen. Why, I recall that in this very room, she has often been required to give up her walks, which my dear Mary says she prizes dearly, and has not once even murmured at the difficulty it leaves her in. Not the smallest particle of defiance is in her, I am sure of it.”