Posted on Thursday, 27 March 2008
Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn in Hertfordshire could be a singularly obstinate young lady at times, particularly regarding matters matrimonial and the unsolicited opinions of others on the subject of whom she should or should not marry, and though finally forced to admit to Lady Catherine de Bourgh, who came all the way to Hertfordshire from Kent on purpose to harangue her on the subject, that she was not at present engaged to that lady's nephew, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, Elizabeth simply refused to give the demanded promise not to enter into such an engagement. Lady Catherine, accustomed to complete obedience from all whom she deigned to command, was predictably incensed.
"Miss Bennet, I am shocked and astonished. I expected to find a more reasonable young woman. But do not deceive yourself into a belief that I shall ever recede. I shall not go away, till you have given me the assurance I require."
"And I certainly shall never give it," Elizabeth declared, continuing on to assail Lady Catherine's spurious arguments against the match under discussion, feeling almost as if she was engaged in convincing herself of the possibility of such a felicitous union taking place.
Lady Catherine ignored Elizabeth's logical objections to such interference in both Elizabeth's own and Mr. Darcy's affairs, and continued to attack the Bennet family's respectability, focusing on the disgraceful marriage of Elizabeth's youngest sister. Elizabeth was still sensitive on this particular subject and decided that it was time to conclude the infuriating and mortifying conference.
"You can now have nothing further to say," she resentfully answered. "You have insulted me, in every possible method. I must beg to return to the house." So saying, Elizabeth turned her back on the fuming Lady Catherine and with determined strides began to do just as she had said, assuming that Lady Catherine would realize that further remonstrance was fruitless, and would return to her carriage and depart. Elizabeth, however had underestimated her adversary's obstinacy, and was chagrined to find that Lady Catherine chose instead to follow her and continue her harangue. Elizabeth determinedly ceased to pay her any mind, and focused instead on the turmoil of her own feelings, wondering what Mr. Darcy would think when he heard of this confrontation, as she had no doubt he would; it would be too much to hope that Lady Catherine would not, after her failure to convince Elizabeth, turn to the nephew to exert her influence in that quarter to prevent the rumored match. Elizabeth cringed at the thought of such an interview. Her attention so completely engaged in dreading the outcome of such a confrontation, Elizabeth did not return her attention to Lady Catherine until she realized that that lady, instead of returning to her carriage, had followed her back into the dining room, where her mother and her sister Kitty were still sitting in some wonder at Elizabeth's extraordinary visitor.
"Lady Catherine, your carriage awaits," Elizabeth ground out with no attempt to hide her annoyance.
"I told you, Miss Bennet, that I would not go away, till you have given me the assurance I require."
"And I told you, Lady Catherine, that I would not give it, and there is nothing you can say or do to persuade me otherwise."
Lady Catherine fixed Elizabeth with a steely glare, and with great deliberation seated herself in a chair and resolutely turned her gaze straight ahead, as if she was simultaneously staking out a claim to that portion of the Bennets' dining room, and dismissing those who were within it from her notice.
Mrs. Bennet and Kitty were, fortunately, too stunned and confused not only at the appearance of Lady Catherine in their dining room in the first place, but at Elizabeth's audacity in engaging in an apparent dispute with such a distinguished personage. Elizabeth, for that matter, was hardly less stunned, for it was impossible to credit that Lady Catherine actually meant to carry out her threat and remain at Longbourn until she received a promise from Elizabeth not to marry Mr. Darcy. Such perplexing behaviour left Elizabeth with something of a quandary. She would not, under any circumstance, give Lady Catherine the promise she desired, as Elizabeth had every intention of marrying Mr. Darcy if he should ever happen to propose again, however unlikely she now felt that such a proposal would be forthcoming. It remained imperative, however, that no one else in the house discover the reason for Lady Catherine's unexpected visit, and the notion that the lady would, in fact, refuse to leave made it seem quite likely that some sort of explanation would have to be offered at some point, at least before dinner. Elizabeth's hopes with regard to Mr. Darcy's affections were, at that time, a secret to all, except, quite possibly, in part, Lady Catherine, and a secret once known loses all of its merit, particularly if it is told to such a one as Mrs. Bennet, who would no doubt make mischief with the knowledge. It was most unfortunate, in such a circumstance, that Elizabeth had no notion of how she ought to act. She stared about the room at each of the silent women in turn.
To Elizabeth's great mortification, Mrs. Bennet was the first to regain the power of speech.
"Can I offer you some refreshment, Lady Catherine," she simpered with uncharacteristic meekness and grace.
Lady Catherine did not deign to reply other than to screw her face into a look of disdain. Elizabeth chose to act before any conversation between Lady Catherine and two of her most embarrassing relatives could take place.
"Lady Catherine desires to rest herself here for a time -" Elizabeth began, and then hurried on when a most undignified, and yet quiet snort seemed to issue from the lady, "... so I think it is best that we leave her in solitude while she recovers her..." Elizabeth floundered for an appropriate word - senses? Manners? Equanimity? Sanity? " - erm, composure. She has had a long journey this morning."
Mrs. Bennet, who had regained some of her own composure after having faced the ordeal of speaking to Lady Catherine for the first time, did not wish to leave the company of her noble guest, but she was equally reluctant to do anything to impede the comfort of the most distinguished person ever to grace her dining room, and she realized that Elizabeth, who was obviously well acquainted with Lady Catherine - after all, Lady Catherine had come to call on Elizabeth - would therefore know best how to accommodate the whims of such a person. However, it was unfortunately a part of Mrs. Bennet's nature to argue with Elizabeth whenever possible, and so she could not help doing so as Elizabeth ushered her mother and sister out of the room with as much grace and haste as she could muster, a glance back at Lady Catherine showing the unwanted guest to be sitting rigidly and immovably in her chair.
"But Lizzy, I have it from Lady Lucas that the journey to Hunsford is but fifty miles, and all on good roads - surely in such an equipage as is now parked in front of our house -"
Elizabeth did not hear the rest of her mother's statement as she had unceremoniously shoved her dear Mama and Kitty into the drawing room and firmly shut the door, suddenly realizing that she had another matter to resolve, that of Lady Catherine's carriage and the attendant servants. Elizabeth had no way of knowing how long Lady Catherine could maintain this freak of behavior, but, with even her own limited knowledge of horses, Elizabeth was aware that it could not be good for the animals to spend hours, or more, if worse came to worst, in the traces. She dreaded what kind of information could pass from Lady Catherine's servants to those of Longbourn if the former were allowed to pass the rest of the afternoon in the servants' hall, but, sadly, there was no way to properly avoid offering them such accommodations, and so Elizabeth, with resignation, sought Hill, the housekeeper, and directed that Lady Catherine's horses, carriage, and servants be disposed to await her pleasure.
Having dispensed with that chore, Elizabeth sat down on the stairs in the hall to think, keeping her eyes and ears alert for any movement in either the dining room or the parlor where she had deposited Mrs. Bennet and Kitty. Before she could come to any resolution of what should be done, a distraction came from another direction; Jane and Mr. Bingley, who had fled to the far reaches of the garden when the carriage had first been seen to enter the drive, reentered the house.
"Lizzy, who has come?" Jane asked her sister, having noted that the servants were unhitching the carriage, which indicated that the visitor whose presence she and Bingley had attempted to avoid by walking out was not to leave any time soon.
"Oh, Jane! I am in such a fix!" was the response she received from her normally indomitable sister.
"Why Lizzy, whatever is the matter?" Jane cried, instantly alarmed, and rushing to her sister's side, followed with alacrity by her equally concerned intended.
Elizabeth hesitated, looking keenly at first one and then the other of the two worried countenances before her. She made a resolution that if she was to have any hope of extricating herself from this mess she would need allies, and would therefore have to take someone into her confidence. She glanced again at the closed doors, which for the moment separated herself from the sources of her anxiety, and those sources from each other. Determining how to act, she sprang to her feet, and grasping Jane and Mr. Bingley each by the hand, dragged the two astonished lovers into the breakfast room and shut the door behind her, leaning against it as if she required its support.
"Lady Catherine has come to call and... she refuses to leave!" Elizabeth blurted out, knowing that such a brief explanation could only serve to confuse her audience further, but feeling that the worst of it should be disclosed first.
"You mean Lady Catherine de Bourgh, Darcy's aunt?" asked Mr. Bingley.
"The very same," Elizabeth sighed.
"What do you mean, she refuses to leave?" Jane asked, perplexed.
Elizabeth, now on the point of exposing all, hesitated. Could she enlighten Jane and Mr. Bingley without revealing her feelings?
"Lady Catherine received word of your engagement..." Lizzy paused, loath to continue, and yet, at the same time, amused at the look of affectionate pride sported by her future brother. Elizabeth was not formed for ill-humor, after all, and in the midst of her own personal disaster could still appreciate the mildly absurd mooncalf who was so enamoured of her favorite sister. Jane, however, continued to be confused.
"So... she came to offer her congratulations?" Jane offered the only explanation that presented itself in her mind, as peculiar as it was that a woman so wholly unknown to herself or dear Bingley would take the trouble of traveling all that distance to wish her joy on her engagement, and if that were the case, there could be no reason for Lizzy to be so agitated at the lady's refusal to leave. If that were the reason for the call, surely her ladyship would leave as soon as Jane and her intended allowed her to offer her congratulations. Fortunately, exasperation provided Elizabeth sufficient impetus to continue her narration.
"No, Jane. It seems that when Lady Catherine heard the news of your engagement, it was accompanied by some other... a rumor. Evidently, she was informed, by I know not what means, that I am also shortly to be wed - to Mr. Darcy."
Both of Elizabeth's auditors gasped.
"Lizzy! You never dropped a word! Nor did Darcy! I cannot tell you how delighted I am to hear it - Darcy is to be my brother! I do not know when I have heard anything so wonderful, aside from my own dear Jane's acceptance of my proposal. Is not this wonderful, Jane? Lizzy, allow me to wish you joy!" Mr. Bingley accepted the ‘news' with characteristic enthusiasm, while Jane continued to look stunned. Elizabeth hastened to disabuse him of his misperception.
"No, Mr. Bingley, that is not... that is, I am not engaged to Mr. Darcy. That was, as I said, merely a rumor that somehow reached the ears of Lady Catherine, and, well, she came here to express her extreme displeasure at the notion of a union between Mr. Darcy and me."
"Well, surely you need not concern yourself with her approval -" began Mr. Bingley, before he was interrupted by Jane with a statement that shocked him into silence.
"But Lizzy, did you not explain to Lady Catherine that you refused Mr. Darcy's proposal?"
Elizabeth winced and glanced quickly at Mr. Bingley before answering. "Lady Catherine does not know about the events of last April, and there is no reason she should find out about them; I have informed her that I am not engaged to Mr. Darcy."
"Last April..." Mr. Bingley muttered to himself.
"Then why ever is Lady Catherine refusing to leave?" Jane asked.
Elizabeth sighed - shuddered, really - and abandoned her post by the door to sink into a chair.
"She is requiring... assurances that I... am not inclined to give. Well, that I cannot honestly give."
"What kind of assurances?"
Elizabeth realized that she would not be able to evade Jane's questions indefinitely, and that having started to share her difficulties with Jane and Mr. Bingley, she would have to be completely open. She did regret, however, having brought Mr. Bingley into it, as he seemed fixated on the fact that Elizabeth had refused Mr. Darcy, and that it had apparently happened the previous April, and she now heartily wished that she had, in her moment of panic, left her future brother out in the hall while she made her disclosures to Jane. The fact that she suspected that Jane would share everything she was told with her intended was somehow irrelevant; it would be easier to confess what she must without Mr. Bingley present.
"Lady Catherine demands a promise that if Mr. Darcy should propose to me, that I will refuse him - she requires a pledge that I shall never marry him."
Jane's reaction to this news startled Elizabeth.
"Well, really, Lizzy," Jane huffed in exasperation, having had more than enough drama within her family in the last month to last her for a lifetime, "Why must you be so stubborn and argumentative always? I love you dearly, but I cannot understand why you insist on defiance merely for the sake of defiance. If all you have to do is promise not to marry Mr. Darcy in order to please Lady Catherine, then do it! There is no call to engage in such willfulness - Lady Catherine is, perhaps, behaving in a high-handed and overbearing manner, but after all, you do not want to marry Mr. Darcy anyway!"
Elizabeth's shock at receiving such a harsh response from the always gentle, always agreeable, always understanding Jane caused her to reply with more openness than she ever would have done had she been thinking clearly.
"But I DO want to marry him!" Elizabeth cried.
"You do?" Jane and Mr. Bingley responded simultaneously.
"Yes, I do," Elizabeth admitted simply, tears starting in her eyes. "And now, just when I was looking forward to his return from town, hoping that perhaps we should be able to... to build on what was begun in Derbyshire, Lady Catherine has come along and ruined everything!"
All three were thoughtful for a few moments.
"Is Mr. Darcy still to return in a few days?" Jane asked Mr. Bingley.
"Yes, I have had a letter from him saying that his business is proceeding as expected, and he will return to Netherfield as planned. Should I, do you think, send him an express to return immediately?"
"NO!" Elizabeth shouted, overpowering her sister's much more sedate reply of, "Yes."
Jane and Bingley looked to Elizabeth to explain her vehement response.
"Mr. Darcy cannot know about any of this. The only thing to do is to get Lady Catherine out of here before he returns, and make sure that no one else knows the real reason she is here. I cannot believe that she truly means to remain here until she receives my compliance to her wishes - I am sure this is merely a temporary fit of pique on her part, and when she sees that I will not give in, she will leave." Elizabeth's stubborn assurance was actually bolstered by the skeptical looks she was receiving from her companions, and continued, "There is, however, a more pressing matter, and that is that Mama must be kept in ignorance of why Lady Catherine is here. I think it is obvious that I am engaged in... a quarrel with her ladyship, but Mama must not know what it is about. She cannot know that I once refused an offer of marriage from Mr. Darcy, and -" Elizabeth sighed, and pointedly ignored Bingley's obvious continuing interest in the information had been inadvertently revealed to him, "... above all, she cannot know that I have even the shred of a hope that he will renew his addresses. It is only a small hope, truly. But it is absolutely imperative that Mama not know that Lady Catherine's purpose here is to dissuade me from such a match if an offer is made. I cannot say whether Mama's anger at the potential loss of such a match for one of her daughters would not be stronger than her deference for a person of Lady Catherine's rank. I shudder to think of what kind of... well, the results of a battle between Mama and Lady Catherine would be difficult to predict, so we must do our best to keep it from happening. I -"
Elizabeth was here interrupted by a knock on the door, and when Jane bid the person enter, Hill, the housekeeper, did so hesitantly.
"Begging your pardon, Miss Elizabeth, but, will your... guest be staying for dinner? Only, the maids need to begin to lay the table."
The three conspirators exchanged glances.
"Yes, Hill, she will be staying. I do not think she is inclined to move from her chair at the moment, however, so please ask them to... work around her. And, Hill?" Elizabeth said as the woman prepared to leave the room.
The housekeeper of Longbourn showed some strain in her eyes as she paused in her leave-taking.
"Lady Catherine is a powerful and important woman, if she may at the moment appear a bit... eccentric. I hope that all of the staff understand the consequences of indiscretion?"
"Yes, Miss," the beleaguered servant replied, returning to her duties.
"What do you want us to do, Lizzy?" Jane asked with deep gravity that did not sit well upon her gentle features.
"Will the two of you go sit in the dining room with Lady Catherine? I know that she will not be pleasant company - although, I can assure you that if she intends to maintain an icy silence, she will be a far sight more amiable than if she chooses to speak to you - but I would feel more confident if someone I trust, someone with some sense, would keep an eye on her."
"And what will you tell Mama?"
Elizabeth wracked her brains.
"Charlotte. I will tell Mama that this is about Charlotte. I will say that Charlotte has done something to disoblige Lady Catherine, and that Lady Catherine has come in the hopes of enlisting my aid in making my friend see reason."
"Will your mother believe that?" Mr. Bingley asked, with an expression of incredulity that appeared to be rapidly becoming permanently affixed on his countenance.
"It is not any more unbelievable than the real reason Lady Catherine is here, I think, and Mama will be easily convinced that a woman of Lady Catherine's stature might be so quixotic as to make such a long journey for such a reason. Believe me, Mama is suggestible enough to believe anything," Elizabeth replied, thinking, at the same time, that her father would be harder to convince of such a tale, but that he was also much less likely to require an explanation at all; as long as he was provided such a diversion as their visitor would most certainly present, he would not question the motivation behind it.
"But Lizzy, Mama is still angry with Charlotte for marrying Mr. Collins when he was meant for you. Will she not simply demand that you comply with Lady Catherine's wishes?" Jane pressed.
Elizabeth ignored Mr. Bingley's evident fascination with this new tidbit of information and plowed on with her plans. Though they vehemently deny it, men are as hungry for gossip as any housewife.
"No, because I will tell her that Lady Catherine is pressuring Charlotte to cast us out to starve in the hedgerows as soon as Papa has died, and that Charlotte is refusing to do such a thing when the time comes."
"But Lizzy, even if Mama believed that Lady Catherine would have the audacity to try to enlist your aid in such a venture, that would definitely cause Mama to fight with Lady Catherine, and then the truth will surely come out!"
"Leave Mama to me, Jane. Now, will you please go watch over Lady Catherine in the dining room?"
The three left the breakfast room together, Elizabeth leading the way to the dining room. She felt compelled to attempt introductions for form's sake, just in case Lady Catherine suddenly felt conversible. Not that she gave any sign of it when they entered the room. She still sat immovable as a statue, the only change, perhaps, a deepening of her frown which caused Elizabeth to wonder if her mother's constant advice to her daughters when they were young, that if they made unpleasant expressions their faces would freeze that way, might come true in Lady Catherine's scowling visage. ‘It would not enhance her looks,' Elizabeth mused.
To make the introductions seemed an awkward business - the maids were in the process of laying the table for dinner, and obviously feeling constrained by the strange, and yet rather fine, lady who impeded their progress, and their conversation. Lady Catherine did not even glance at the newcomers, nor acknowledge them in any way when Elizabeth presented "Miss Bennet and Mr. Bingley" to her. Ignoring their obvious uneasiness, Elizabeth left her two allies to the mercy of the dour dowager and made her way back into the hall, where she hesitated. She was debating with herself whether she should go straight to her mother, or perhaps give her father some indication of what he could expect at dinner, when a maid left the parlor where Mrs. Bennet was ensconced, carrying a letter.
"What is that?" Elizabeth asked the housemaid.
"A letter, Miss, that the mistress has asked be sent immediately to Meryton."
Elizabeth held out her hand for the missive, and the housemaid easily handed it over to her. It was addressed in Mrs. Bennet's hand to her sister, Mrs. Philips in Meryton. It could only be news of Lady Catherine's visit, which was news that Elizabeth was determined should not pass beyond the walls of Longbourn.
"I will take care of this," Elizabeth said, grimly, and the housemaid responded with a curtsey and took herself off to her duties. Elizabeth pocketed the letter and went immediately to the parlor to see her mother. She was relieved to see that both her mother and Kitty had remained in the room, and were both quietly engaged, although it did seem a bit odd that they were each apparently engaged in writing letters.
"Oh, there you are, Lizzy," Mrs. Bennet exclaimed when she saw her daughter, "Is Lady Catherine to stay to dinner? I thought that perhaps if she is, I should invite the Lucases, though it is late notice, as they will like to hear about Charlotte from her neighbor. Do you not think that a good idea?"
"Yes, Mama, Lady Catherine appears to be staying, but I think you had better not invite anyone tonight."
"But why not?" Mrs. Bennet asked peevishly, thinking that Elizabeth was merely being her usual contrary self in order to vex her poor mother and bring on an attack of nerves. If she only knew!
"I will explain, Mama, but," Elizabeth turned to her sister. "Kitty, do you think you could finish your letter upstairs?"
Kitty complied with her sister's request, but with a decided lack of grace, dawdling as she collected her things, and then leaving the room in a petulant huff, muttering all the while about never being allowed to hear ‘the good stuff', and other such whiny complaints. The patience of her mother and sister was sorely tested, and Mrs. Bennet's voice was as petulant as Kitty's when the closing of the door and a glance from Elizabeth gave her liberty to speak.
"Well, Miss Lizzy, what have you to say for yourself?"
"Mama, I feel that I should reveal to you the reason for Lady Catherine's visit today..."
Mrs. Bennet's expression brightened at the prospect of what she thought would be some juicy news, but as Elizabeth progressed with her explanation Mrs. Bennet's smile faded and her complexion paled. Not for nothing had Elizabeth Bennet spent her whole life as her mother's least favorite daughter; one and twenty years of experience had taught her well the ways to vex and agitate her maternal parent, thus by the time Elizabeth had finished weaving her tale, painting her friend Charlotte as a steadfast heroine who refused the tyrannical, cold-blooded schemes of her half-wit husband's noble patroness, shocking her mother with tales of intermittent bouts of madness in the noble lady - a veritable she-dragon - brought about by a severe head injury in a carriage accident, and then terrifying Mrs. Bennet with the notion that Lady Catherine, if she were to be goaded into one of her fits by any wrong word on the part of Mrs. Bennet, would dismiss Mr. Collins, sending him and poor Charlotte to live with the Bennets until such time as Mr. Collins became the rightful master of Longbourn, and, for good measure, and not the least germane to the issue, throwing in a few words of praise for Mr. Darcy in order to pave the way for the future, just in case there came a time when she would need her mother to have an improved opinion of him, Elizabeth had managed to work her mother in to such a fit of anxiety that she had passed beyond hysterics into a sort of petrified whimpering. For perhaps the first time in her life Elizabeth found herself grateful that she had a mother of weak understanding, for it was just that feeble lack of penetration that allowed Mrs. Bennet to accept the entire farce at face value without once questioning the ridiculousness of many of the details.
Elizabeth smiled with satisfaction as Mrs. Bennet was helped to her room, where she declared she would remain until Lady Catherine left the house, but the feeling of triumphant relief was short-lived; no sooner had she cleared her mother from the field than Kitty flounced down the stairs in her pelisse and bonnet, pulling on her gloves.
"Where do you think you are going?" Elizabeth asked warily.
"To Meryton to post a letter, and then to call on Maria Lucas," Kitty replied with what she hoped was aloofness, but was, in reality, the same petulant whine she had employed when she had been ousted from the parlor.
"A letter? To whom?" Elizabeth frowned.
"To Mrs. Wickham," Kitty replied with a successful attempt at smugness.
"Well, I am sorry, but you cannot go out."
"Yes I can, you cannot stop me! You are not the boss of me!" Kitty could not help accompanying her words with a frustrated stomp.
"No, you cannot," Elizabeth stated firmly, "for we have a guest, dinner will be soon, and Mama is poorly... and before she went upstairs she told me that she did not want any of her girls to leave the house until... she is well again." Elizabeth was a generally truthful person, and hated telling so many lies, and was becoming a little unnerved at how easily she managed to invent them, and such outrageous ones, too - not to mention disappointed in the intelligence of her nearest relations for swallowing any of the absurdities she was feeding them. For Kitty, as easily as Mrs. Bennet had earlier, accepted without question the truth of Elizabeth's words.
"But what about my letter!" she cried, returning to the petulant whine.
"I will see to it for you," Elizabeth said with what she hoped was a sisterly, affectionate, understanding smile.
Kitty sulkily handed over the missive, and then reluctantly returned upstairs to sit with her mother until dinner, as Elizabeth suggested.
Once again Elizabeth found herself alone in the front hall of Longbourn, contemplating her next move. Lady Catherine was safe in the protective custody of the lovebirds in the dining room, Mrs. Bennet had been reduced to a whimpering, quivering, and, more importantly, compliant fit of nerves, and was safely upstairs with Kitty, who now believed herself confined to the house under the authority of her mother. Mr. Bennet had not yet emerged from his library, and Elizabeth decided to leave him there in peace and ignorance for the moment. That left only Mary, of all the family, unconstrained, but as Elizabeth stood in the hall, slipping Kitty's letter into her pocket, she could hear the sounds of Mary's pianoforte upstairs, and with a great deal of relief realized that there was no need to do anything to forestall Mary; she would remain cloistered until dinner, and would show a remarkable lack of curiosity when she emerged.
Elizabeth was pulled from her reverie by the opening of the dining room door, but her immediate alarm abated when she saw that it was Mr. Bingley who emerged, looking sheepish. In his hand was a letter.
"Lady Catherine has written a letter to Darcy, and demands it be sent express," he said with in low voice, though he had closed the door behind him when he had left the room where Lady Catherine was confined.
"Well, Lady Catherine should have realized that I am not in a humour to accede to her demands today," Elizabeth said with a smile as she pocketed Lady Catherine's letter. Before she could ask Mr. Bingley how he and Jane were managing with Lady Catherine, who had obviously unbent enough to ask for - no, demand, more likely - writing materials, Mr. Bingley took her hand and asked her a fervent question.
"May I not write to Darcy, Lizzy?"
"Mr. Bingley -"
"Please, Lizzy, you are to be my sister, you must call me Charles," he said with a gentle smile.
"Charles," Elizabeth said, returning his smile, "Please, do not write to him. I do not want him to know -"
"Lizzy, I have known Darcy for a very long time. And one thing I know about him is that he despises when anyone tries to arrange his affairs for him. He would want to know of his aunt's interference, and he should know. And even more, he would not want you to have to face her alone on his behalf."
"And I am sure that Lady Catherine will tell him herself, at some point, but I cannot... I am having enough of a challenge trying to control this situation without having to handle a scene with Mr. Darcy. Mr. Bingley - Charles - I gather that neither Jane nor Mr. Darcy ever told you that he proposed to me in the spring, and that I refused him. I said some terrible things to him that day, things that could very justifiably have made him hate me. I was mortified to meet him again at Pemberley last month, but to my very great surprise, he treated me with civility... cordiality... kindness! You were, there, you must have seen. I began to see him in a different light, and began to believe that perhaps he still had some affection for me, and then... Lydia, but the less said on that subject, the better. I was sure that I would never see him again, but I was filled with such hope when he returned with you to Netherfield not a fortnight ago, even though he does not seem to welcome my friendship the way he did in Derbyshire. But that is only to be expected - you, of all people, must be aware of the low opinion he holds of my family, and we have certainly had enough scandal to drive away a man like Mr. Darcy. I... I do not wish for him to know what has passed between me and his aunt, I could not bear for him to have another reason to think ill of me."
"But do you not wish for Darcy to hear of this from a more objective observer of the events, rather than in what will be an account highly biased against you?"
Elizabeth hesitated, but still found herself unable to agree. Deep down she was still hoping that some resolution to the impasse could be found that would preclude Lady Catherine ever relating to him what had occurred at Longbourn that day. Elizabeth hung her head as they were both silent for a spell.
"Do you love him?" Mr. Bingley broke the silence to ask.
To her great chagrin, Elizabeth's newfound facility for untruth abandoned her.
"Yes, I do." Elizabeth could not help but feel sad as she admitted it.
"Then let me write to him." Mr. Bingley's expression was one of earnest pleading.
"No, Charles."
Mr. Bingley sighed, and gave Elizabeth's hand a squeeze. "I should return to Jane. You know, Lizzy, Darcy has made a few brief mentions lately of your ease in managing Lady Catherine de Bourgh when you met in Kent. I realize, of course, that she was not behaving like this at the time, but I must say, even so, I admire you if you were able to get the better of that woman. She is formidable! I will so like having you for a sister! Now, if only you can manage to get me Darcy for a brother, which Caroline has never been able to accomplish..."
Elizabeth could not help but laugh, though she blushed, at his teasing, and felt glad that after all the trouble of the year past, she would finally be welcoming the charming, kindly Mr. Bingley - Charles! - as her brother.
The chiming of the clock in the hall alerted Elizabeth to the nearness of the dinner hour, and she decided that it was time to inform her father a little about their guest, but first, she rang the bell for Hill, having another small office to perform.
Hill, when she arrived, looked haggard, which for someone used to catering to the whims of Mrs. Bennet, indicated a high degree of vexation indeed! Elizabeth imagined it had something to do with the addition of the Rosings servants below stairs, but as she had enough to be going on with above stairs, she chose not to inquire into Hill's concerns for the moment, asking only if Lady Catherine had traveled with a lady's maid, and upon receiving an affirmative, asked Hill to send the woman to Lady Catherine to see to the lady's needs before dinner.
Her duties as hostess dispatched, Elizabeth knocked on the door to her father's library, still unsure as to what she would say to him in explanation of the peculiar situation he would encounter at dinner. ‘As little as possible...' Elizabeth thought to herself as she let herself into the room.
As she had expected, her father showed little curiosity, but great amusement that they were to entertain Mr. Collins' noble patroness for dinner, and accepted with mirthful equanimity Elizabeth's cryptic caveat that the woman about whom he had heard so many things to amuse would likely not choose to engage in any dinner conversation; she gave her father to understand that though Lady Catherine was to stay for dinner, she was... displeased with Longbourn and its inhabitants, and was currently expressing her disapproval with silence. Mr. Bennet was disappointed to be denied the diversion of Lady Catherine's vaunted pearls of wisdom, but he was certain that he would be equally diverted by her silent fit of pique, and so Elizabeth was able to feel some lessening of her dread of the dinner hour, believing that her father would himself maintain his customary taciturnity.
As she emerged from the library, Elizabeth encountered Mr. Bingley once again, and he had yet another letter. He handed it over to Elizabeth as they shared a mischievous smile; a glance at the direction revealed it to be meant for Mr. Collins.
"By express?" Elizabeth asked with an arch smirk as she deposited the letter in her pocket with all of the others she had collected.
"Of course!" Mr. Bingley replied, unable to restrain a small laugh.
Elizabeth was then informed by the gentleman that Jane had gone up to dress for dinner, and that he had been ordered into the hall while Lady Catherine's abigail performed some service or other for her ladyship, but he promised to return to the dining room at the earliest possible moment, particularly before any of the Bennets arrived for dinner. Elizabeth felt compelled to offer her most grateful thanks for Mr. Bingley's assistance all afternoon, but he laughed off her gratitude - in truth, he was enjoying himself!
‘Only Charles Bingley could be amiable enough to find enjoyment in the company of a sulking, fuming, irascible old termagant like Lady Catherine de Bourgh!' Elizabeth thought, not without humour, as she mounted the stairs to her room.
Dinner was a quiet affair. Aside from Mr. Bingley, no one had much to say; the frosty anger emanating from the unwanted guest at the table did much to silence the rest of the ladies, and proved diverting enough to Mr. Bennet (who smiled contentedly throughout the meal) to satisfy him in the absence of conversation (although one might conjecture that the absence of his wife also contributed to his pleasant air of contentment). Lady Catherine had not remained completely silent, however. When Elizabeth had presented her father and Mary to her ladyship, they being the only ones who had not yet been introduced, she broke her indignant stillness to say "You have a very disobliging daughter," to her host, to which Mr. Bennet replied dryly, "Several, in fact," thus ending Lady Catherine's contribution to the evening's discourse.
There ensued a very awkward moment when the meal concluded; the ladies rose to adjourn to the drawing room, and the gentlemen remained at table until, in a few moments, it became clear that Lady Catherine, who had not only refrained from speech, but also from food, still refused to budge from her seat. With knowing looks from Mr. Bingley, and quizzical ones from Mr. Bennet, the two gentlemen rose to repair to the library instead, with Mr. Bennet bestowing upon his second daughter a glance both searching and piercing as he passed by her where she remained in the doorway.
Elizabeth waited until all of the others were safely out of hearing before dismissing the servants who were beginning to clear the remains of dinner, and addressing her stubborn guest.
"Shall I call for your carriage, your ladyship?" she inquired with a steely voice.
"Are you prepared to give me your promise, Miss Bennet?"
"Certainly not."
In the stillness that followed, as Lady Catherine did not deign to respond further, Elizabeth contemplated asking whether she could have a chamber prepared for her ladyship, but decided not to. If the woman chose to behave in such a completely unreasonable manner, Elizabeth did not feel inclined to insure the invader's comfort - after all, her aim was to encourage Lady Catherine to leave, not to entrench herself further at Longbourn! Besides, Elizabeth was much more comfortable having Lady Catherine downstairs while her mother remained upstairs. Not willing to spend the rest of the evening in the shrew's company, and equally unwilling to destroy anyone else's enjoyment of the evening (specifically, Jane's or Mr. Bingley's), Elizabeth decided that no one need keep watch in the dining room, though she did request of the poor, afflicted Mrs. Hill that some one or other of the servants remain at watch outside the dining room door for the remainder of the evening, and alert her if Lady Catherine should emerge - and, feeling some compassion for her ladyship, requested also that a bowl of fruit and some bread and wine casually be left on the sideboard, in case Lady Catherine's hunger finally overcame her obstinacy.
Elizabeth joined her sisters in the drawing room, where Kitty undertook to pry from her the explanation for their guest's extraordinary behavior, but when she received nothing but curt refusals from Elizabeth, and gentle pleas for consideration from Jane, she abandoned the attempt and focused instead on re-trimming a bonnet. Elizabeth found herself grateful not only for Jane's compassionate nature, but for Mary's taciturn one - Mary Bennet showed no interest whatsoever in the eccentric visitor in the dining room, though Elizabeth suspected that her next-youngest sister was forming strictures in her mind about the behavior of the titled classes.
When Mr. Bingley rejoined the ladies he bore a summons to Elizabeth from her father, which she had been expecting and dreading since the uncomfortable scene at the end of dinner. As she passed him where he held the door for her, Elizabeth's eye was caught by a paper in his pocket. He saw where her gaze rested and had, at least, the decency to blush.
"Mr. Bingley," she said, with her eyebrows raised and her hand held out to receive the secret missive, addressed in a deplorably blotchy manner, as she saw when he sheepishly laid it in her hand, to Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, -- Street, London.
He opened his mouth to say something, but she quelled him with a look, and left him to Jane's sympathy, adding yet another letter to the collection in her pocket and reporting as directed to her father's library.
Her father, however, had not issued his summons to interrogate his daughter, her merely wished for an opponent at backgammon, and had found Mr. Bingley, who not only been peculiarly, almost rudely un-Bingleylike in asking Mr. Bennet's leave to write a letter immediately on entering the library, but then, when his letter was finished, proceeded to spend the rest of his time there throwing wistful glances at the door (which, admittedly, he did every evening he had dined at Longbourn since his engagement) until Mr. Bennet could no longer bear his company. Elizabeth was more than happy to entertain her father, particularly as Mr. Bennet deplored conversation during backgammon.
In fact, Mr. Bennet seemed to have forgotten about Lady Catherine's presence in his house altogether, a surmise of Elizabeth's that was confirmed when, at the end of their game, Mr. Bennet expressed an inclination to rout Mr. Bingley out of his drawing room and send him home so that he might go to bed himself.
"Erm, Father, about Lady Catherine..." Elizabeth began, halting at the surprised expression on her father's face.
"Good heavens, is she still here? I had forgotten all about her. Well, call her carriage, then; I suppose she is staying at the inn in Meryton?"
"Well, no, actually... she is staying here, in a manner of speaking."
"In a manner of speaking, eh? And what manner is that, pray. It would seem to me that a person is either staying here or not, and I might wish to be given a little more notice, by the bye, when my hospitality is to be extended to strangers," Mr. Bennet had turned peevish. He disliked house guests, and had, in his mind, barely recovered from the visit of nearly a year ago by his current guest's annoying clergyman.
"You see, Father, Lady Catherine has, erm, taken up a position in our dining room and refuses to budge from there."
For all he never left home, Mr. Bennet had certainly read enough to make him something of a man of the world, and was therefore a difficult man to discompose, and yet, Elizabeth's statement left him decidedly nonplussed. He poured himself a brandy and took a generous pull on it.
"And are you going to explain this extraordinary circumstance, Elizabeth?"
"I would very much prefer to avoid doing so, Sir."
Mr. Bennet regarded his favorite daughter with something like a scowl, though not without a twinkle in his eye. "I surmise that you are the ‘disobliging daughter' to whom Lady Catherine referred at dinner?" he asked wryly.
"I am."
"Tell me, Lizzy, is Lady Catherine de Bourgh mad?"
"I am beginning to suspect, Sir."
"Well then, I can suggest two courses of action, and I will leave you to choose whichever you prefer: either we call the constabulary and have her forcibly ejected and arrested for trespassing, or we call a physician and have her committed to Bedlam!"
Knowing that her father would never do either, as he was too indolent to take the trouble, and too impatient with any kind of scene to want one in his own house if he could possibly avoid it, Elizabeth found herself able to answer him calmly.
"As I am reluctant to embroil this family in further scandals to the titillation of the neighborhood, I believe I will choose a third option, namely, to allow her to pass the night in the dining room if she so chooses," Elizabeth replied with a hint of dry sarcasm that would have done her father credit.
"And I am not to hear an explanation?"
"It is a very long story, Papa, and I am sure you do not wish to hear it tonight."
"Meaning you are unwilling to explain it now. You might have told me all of this sooner," he grumbled, making his way towards the hall so that he might evict the one guest over whom he still exercised some authority.
"Well, I am a very disobliging daughter, you must remember. Oh, and if Mama mentions it, you had best disregard anything she has to say on the matter, as the explanation I gave her was a pack of lies - though I would be most grateful if you would refrain from informing her of that fact."
Mr. Bennet laughed, though without much true mirth.
"I am to be obliging, then, where you shall not? Believe me, Lizzy, were I not so tired this evening you would most certainly be required to be a great deal more forthcoming, but as it is, I have decided that for the moment I had much rather not know, and as I have a feeling that your mother's quietude this evening is somehow tied up in this, and therefore your doing, I shall let the matter rest for the moment out of gratitude. But do not think that you will be allowed to continue in this defiance indefinitely, Elizabeth. I may be a bit lax about what goes on in my house, but when a deranged lady chooses to spend the night in my dining room because my daughter has been disobliging, it behooves me to seek an explanation in due course."
"I understand, Papa."
"Good. I leave you in charge of this disaster. Goodnight, child," Mr. Bennet could not long remain angry with his favorite, especially since he was expecting a highly diverting tale from her in the morning, so he kissed her and left her in peace in the library, while he went to give Mr. Bingley a broad hint to go home.
When Elizabeth left the library she was met by Hill and another woman she had never seen before who was soon revealed to be Lady Catherine's lady's maid. Elizabeth had been curious about that particular person for the last several hours. She knew that lady's maids of those of a high rank were usually quite elegant creatures who, in spite of their positions as servants, in some cases thought very highly of their own status, sometimes even considering themselves to be greater than those who were above their station socially (like, for instance, the ladies of the Bennet household), simply because they believed that they were conferred a sort of reflected glory from their employers. Elizabeth had a clear memory of being sneered at by the elegant females who waited on Caroline Bingley and Mrs. Hurst when she had stayed at Netherfield Park during Jane's illness the previous autumn, but she did not know what to expect from the woman who performed the same office for Lady Catherine. On the one hand, Lady Catherine's consequence, or at least, her over-inflated perception of it, might very well give her maid an air of superiority, having such an illustrious lady in her charge. But, it was difficult to imagine that anyone could maintain even the smallest bit of personal pride in service to Lady Catherine. The overbearing nature of such a mistress, and her tendency to believe that she knew everyone's business better than they could, would, it seemed to Elizabeth, be more likely to beat down the spirit of anyone in such a position. After all, Elizabeth had seen the way the other servants at Rosings, particularly Anne de Bourgh's companion, Mrs. Jenkinson, had been cowed by Lady Catherine, and so she was alive with curiosity to know whether Lady Catherine's maid would be haughty and high in the instep, or if she would show any kind of consciousness of the unreasonable behaviour of her mistress.
As it turned out, Lady Catherine's maid was extremely mortified, though she did not say so; Elizabeth read it in her countenance and bearing. She had humbly asked Hill for some bedding, apparently at Lady Catherine's request, so that the formidable lady could stand her ground and remain in the dining room of Longbourn all night. Hill, naturally, did not know what to make of such an unusual, not to mention unreasonable, request, and so chose to defer to Elizabeth, whom Hill had long realized was the person in authority at Longbourn for the time being. Elizabeth struggled not to laugh, primarily because she did not want to further distress Mrs. Parkes, as Lady Catherine's maid was called, but it was a sore trial to her to hold in her amusement that the stubborn old termagant would rather sleep in the Bennets' dining room than capitulate in any way. It pleased her further to consider that as Mrs. Parkes would be given a place to sleep in the servants' quarters, she would pass the night more comfortably than her overbearing mistress. Elizabeth charged Hill to provide Mrs. Parkes with whatever she needed, and fled up the stairs to her own room to release her pent up laughter. It was with these lighthearted musings that Elizabeth went to her bed.