Within a quarter hour, Darcy watched with satisfaction as his coach carried the Wickhams through the gates and from the grounds of the estate. As he stood at the window, Georgiana came to him.
“I want to apologize, brother, for your finding them here.”
He turned and embraced her. “It is I who must apologize for failing to protect you from exposure to Mr. Wickham. What you must have suffered! How did he even come to gain entrance? Mr. Clarke and Mrs. Reynolds—”
“It is my own fault. Mrs. Wickham called first, anxious to see Elizabeth. It was most awkward, but I felt I could not turn away Elizabeth’s sister. I told her I expected you in a se’nnight and said she might stay. Before I realized what had happened, she had somehow construed my invitation to include Mr. Wickham, who happened to still be waiting in their hired carriage. When I saw him, I could not muster enough courage to ask him to leave.”
Darcy doubted Lydia’s interpretation had been a mistake at all. “My dear sister, I am sorry I was not here.”
“I tried to send word to you at Northanger Abbey, as you had written that you would stay there for a week after leaving Bath, but the letter came back.”
“Our plans altered unexpectedly. I had no opportunity to advise you of the change.”
“I should say so. I certainly did not anticipate you would return with our aunt.”
Until last night, neither had he. “Is Lady Catherine happily settled in her chamber?”
“As happy as she ever is. I heard more than enough, however, of her opinions regarding Mrs. Wickham. How long does our aunt intend to stay?”
Not wanting to alarm his younger sister, he, Elizabeth, and Lady Catherine had decided to keep the details of events in Gloucestershire from her — and everybody else in the family.
“Her plans are undetermined at present. Perhaps as long as spring.” He hoped the business of the diamonds would find resolution far sooner, but he thought it best to prepare Georgiana for the possibility of a protracted visit.
“That long? Has she come to help Elizabeth prepare for her confinement?”
No, to help them both avoid a different one — in prison. Georgiana’s innocent assumption reminded him of how closely the return of the assize judge to Gloucestershire would coincide with Elizabeth’s lying-in. She could not possibly leave Pemberley at that time to appear for trial. And how could he? They must settle this matter expediently. He grew even more anxious for Mr. Harper to appear without delay.
“Has our aunt finally accepted Elizabeth?” Georgiana asked hopefully.
“Not yet. But living in the same house, they no doubt will soon become bosom friends.”
“Pictures of perfection, as you know, make me sick and wicked.”
— Jane Austen, letter to Fanny Knight
You served too many dishes with each course at dinner last night,” Lady Catherine declared. “Do you dine so elaborately every day?”
Elizabeth looked up from her letter but silently counted to ten before replying. She was grown quite used to counting. Ten usually proved sufficient, but sometimes her ladyship’s remarks required fifteen. Once she had reached one hundred ninety, but she had been counting by decades for variety.
“We do not; our family dinners are generally simpler. But as I have not yet learned all your ladyship’s preferences, I thought you might appreciate more selection.”
“Do not trouble yourself on my account. I am easily accommodated.”
To this statement, Elizabeth thought it best not to reply at all.
In the three days since their return to Pemberley, Lady Catherine had thoroughly dissected Elizabeth’s household management. Convinced that Elizabeth’s inexperience as mistress of a great house equaled incompetence and inelegance, she had embarked on a mission to save the venerable Darcy estate and family from the ravages of resourcefulness and ingenuity. No matter was too small to pass beneath Lady Catherine’s notice; Elizabeth wondered not whether her ladyship would demand to inspect the dairy and stillroom, but when.
She dipped her pen and went back to writing Jane. After breakfast, she had retreated to her morning room in hopes of gaining a brief respite from her houseguest, but Lady Catherine had followed her and made herself quite comfortable on the sofa. Her ladyship now performed a thorough visual assessment of the chamber.
“You have repositioned my sister’s desk.”
“As Lady Anne has not used it in nearly twenty years, I doubted she would mind.”
Bless it, she had forgotten to count.
“You ought to demonstrate more respect for your predecessor in this house than speaking of her in such an insolent manner. You have far to go before you can even hope to measure up to the example she set.”
Fourteen, fifteen. . She inhaled deeply, released her breath, and inhaled again. As she did so, she noted a floral smell — Lady Catherine’s perfume, she presumed, a sweet fragrance not at all suited to her ladyship’s bitter mien. She had never known Darcy’s aunt to wear it before today. Though not offensive in itself, the scent vexed her further. Lady Catherine was invading even the air she breathed.
“I have great respect for Lady Anne’s example. It is constantly before me.” She returned the quill to its stand. The letter to Jane would have to wait. Obviously, Lady Catherine would not allow her to compose it uninterrupted, and she now had lost the mood for writing.
Disinclined to leave the half-completed letter where it could fall under Lady Catherine’s gaze — not, of course, that it might contain any candid sentiments about certain relations by marriage — she slid open the top drawer to safekeep the note until she could complete it. Another, much older letter bearing her own name caught her eye. Lady Anne’s letter. She thought she had placed it in another compartment of the desk the day she’d discovered it, but so much had transpired since then that her memory must err.
Spying the letter pushed her still more out of sorts. Had Lady Anne not been acquainted with Captain Tilney’s mother, she and Darcy never would have gone to Northanger Abbey, never would have become embroiled in an incomprehensible legal predicament, and never would have been forced to endure Lady Catherine’s pompous presence in their home.
“Headstrong girl! Can you honestly believe that you know all you must to oversee a house as great as Pemberley?”
“I do not pretend to know everything, but—”
“I have seen the house your mother keeps, the style in which you were raised. You are as unequal to the duties your marriage demands as you are to the status it confers.”
“I am well aware of your opinions on that subject, as you have never hesitated to voice them. But despite your wishes to the contrary, I am mistress of this house and I will not hear the expression of such insults in my own home.”
“It is only through my intervention that you are in your own home at present, and not in a Gloucestershire gaol.”
All the numbers of infinity could not count Elizabeth down to calm. She shut the desk drawer with more violence than she intended. A soft thump sounded beneath it.
Lady Catherine heard it as well. “What have you done? Have you damaged that desk with your tantrum?”
Embarrassed, Elizabeth did not respond. She glanced at the floor and spotted a silver object under the desk. A small key, perhaps an inch long. She leaned down and retrieved it, discovering as she did so that her expanding middle made the action more difficult than it had been when she’d picked up Lady Anne’s letter from this same floor nearly two months ago.
Lady Catherine strode toward her, peering. “What is that?”
Elizabeth palmed the key. “Nothing with which you need concern yourself.”
“Insolent girl. Does my nephew know you behave this way when he is not present?”
“My husband would not expect me to countenance such abuse from you at any time.”
Elizabeth rose. She had to remove herself from Lady Catherine’s proximity. Though her pride rebelled at leaving her own morning room — lest her exit appear a retreat — the chamber could not contain her agitation. Nor could she tolerate any longer the scent of Lady Catherine’s perfume, which now suddenly assailed her with its intensity. Apparently, her all-knowledgeable ladyship could use some instruction of her own — in experimenting with new scents more conservatively.
She needed fresh air. Open space. Activity. She had been too long confined with Lady Catherine and her oppressive disapprobation.
A walk. She needed a walk.