A Woman of Inferior Birth
Betrothal was a state which agreed with Darcy, though he supposed it was not yet official; as he had not yet spoken to her father, he could not call himself engaged by the strictest definition. Such thoughts, however, were the furthest from his mind in the rapture of the moment. Miss Elizabeth Bennet had agreed to marry him! That was a matter to celebrate, leading Darcy to Rosings the following morning, to bask in his new fiancée’s presence.
It was not, therefore, precisely welcome to have that little detail, that of her father’s permission, raised when he arrived at the estate. It had been his practice those times he had stayed in Kent to spend every waking moment at Rosings; perhaps it is best to leave to the readers’ imagination the reason for that preference.
Little conversation ensued between the diners after Darcy arrived as they attended to their breakfast. Thereafter, however, they sat around the table with their teacups, chatting about this and that, nothing of importance, though Darcy considered every moment spent in Elizabeth’s company to be the utmost of consequence.
“Do you mean to ride for Longbourn today, Nephew?” asked Lady Catherine after they had been sitting for some minutes in this attitude.
Caught by surprise, Darcy did not respond at once, allowing Lady Catherine to speak again.
“It must be done, as you know. I should not advise a long delay, for it is not proper for your engagement to remain unsanctioned by her father.”
“As long as I do not publish it abroad, there is no difficulty,” replied Darcy.
Lady Catherine’s eyes narrowed as she regarded him with obvious displeasure. “If you have not considered the matter, I should think it would assist her standing in Meryton if her family could publish the news.”
The snort with which Darcy responded he felt adequately spoke to his feelings. But Lady Catherine was not deterred.
“I know your feelings of those people, Darcy, and I cannot say their behavior has not warranted your contempt. You may say they will gossip nonetheless, that your reputation in Meryton is bad and this news will not make a difference. What you do not consider is that you are, in the end, a man of consequence, and a connection to an earl is not a small matter. The people there will eventually remember this.”
“These things are not unknown to me,” replied Darcy, “and I do not mean to wait months before seeking Mr. Bennet’s approval. At present, however, I would prefer to stay a few days, for I do not wish to part from Elizabeth just yet.”
“And I welcome your presence,” said Elizabeth.
Though she appeared as if she might further argue against his decision, Lady Catherine appeared to understand she would not carry her point. Thus, the lady subsided, though it was beyond the realm of possibility she would not seize the opportunity to have the last word.
“Very well. Do not delay long, Nephew; the sooner you announce the engagement the better, for it will allow you to rehabilitate your reputation in Meryton. This is not insignificant, not if you wish to keep a close connection to Elizabeth’s family.”
Nodding to acknowledge her point, Darcy addressed Elizabeth: “Shall we not walk in the gardens, Elizabeth?”
Once again Lady Catherine frowned, no doubt due to the use of his fiancée’s familiar name. Elizabeth, however, spoke to forestall her protest and agreed at once, rising to take his hand.
“Dress warmly, Elizabeth,” said Lady Catherine as they were leaving the room. “The weather appears quite chilled.”
There was nothing further from the truth, for as Darcy had noted during his walk to Rosings that morning, the weather was mild with a hint of a warm breeze from the west. Elizabeth gathered her coat and gloves while Darcy waited, and soon they exited the house through the back entrance and were strolling down a path in Rosings’ extensive gardens.
For a time, their conversation consisted of little more than small talk, comments about the weather, or Elizabeth’s words concerning the gardens, how she expected they would be beautiful in the summer. Darcy’s replies were laconic, as his mind was on other subjects— even with Elizabeth he had no talent for small talk.
“Elizabeth,” Darcy addressed her at length, “I wish to understand more of what we spoke last night and this morning about Meryton.”
Her sigh spoke volumes as to her feelings on the subject, which must be much more complicated than his own. “What is there to say? Though Mary would entreat me to forgive and warn me against holding a grudge, I find it difficult to reconcile how people I have known all my life could behave in such a way.”
“That is not what I mean, though it is connected. I am more interested to know how much time you wish to spend there, and about this business of where to marry.”
Elizabeth looked up and regarded him for a moment before responding. “For your first question, I do not suppose we will spend much time in Meryton. Though I would not wish to become estranged from my family forever, my home, my life will be in Derbyshire with you.”
A warmth filled Darcy’s breast, and he squeezed her hand that rested on his arm with his free hand. “That is the way of the world, it is true. I would not wish you to become estranged from your family either, though I agree we cannot be in Hertfordshire at all times. It is possible . . .”
“What is possible?” asked Elizabeth when he trailed off.
“Longbourn is not large,” said Darcy. “Staying there when we visit might be difficult, though once your sisters leave for homes of their own it will become easier. Should all your sisters have families of their own, we cannot all gather at Longbourn, though we could assemble at Pemberley if your parents are willing to travel there. It has crossed my mind that it may be best to purchase an estate in the neighborhood so we might have a place to stay when we are in the neighborhood. But that is unnecessary if you do not wish to be there.”
Tears sprang up in her eyes and she looked on him with love and gratitude. “That is wonderful to hear, William, though perhaps we should take some time to thingk before making any plans. There is also the problem of managing such an estate.”
“It will not be difficult,” replied Darcy. “I have several small estates attached to Pemberley that I manage with the aid of a steward. Adding another would not be a problem, though I will note that Netherfield might be more demanding because of its size.”
Darcy paused and grinned. “How do you think the people would react if we purchased the largest property in the neighborhood and passed it to a second son when he came of age?”
With a laugh, Elizabeth shook her head and said: “I cannot imagine, though I suspect Mr. Goulding and several others might be chagrinned to learn that you own the most prominent property.”
“Then let us consider it later. As I said before, I do not wish to estrange you from your family, and if we must purchase an estate to ensure we can continue to associate with them in comfort, then we will do it.”
“Thank you,” was Elizabeth’s simple reply.
“Then what of the wedding?” Elizabeth looked up at him, her eyes clouded over, prompting Darcy to add: “I would not wish you to decide in anger. Longbourn has been your home all your life—if you will regret your decision to marry elsewhere later, I advise against it. We can invite all your closest friends; the rest can watch their brightest jewel marry from afar.”
“True,” said Elizabeth, pondering the situation deeply. “I would not wish you to think I am reacting in anger or without due consideration. The events at the ball are now weeks in the past, after all.
“The stares, the suspicion, the outright hostility of those people has not left me, however, even though I have achieved some distance from the event.”
“It will be that way wherever we go, regardless,” said Darcy. “If people have a reason to gossip, they will, the more salacious the better. Should such things be said in London, it would be many times worse.”
“I understand that,” replied Elizabeth. “And I do not dispute it. But I cannot help but think that those who know me best should know better than to engage in such disgusting displays.”
“With that, I cannot disagree,” murmured Darcy.
“I have yet made no decision. However, I believe the promises we exchange are what is important, not the venue in which we make them. In the end, I shall be content. I will say that I doubt I shall look at those people the same again.”
“That I can readily understand,” replied Darcy. Then he grinned and regarded her with a playful smile. “Mr. Collins would be happy to marry us if we should marry from Hunsford.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Oh, I am certain he would be ecstatic should he be entrusted to perform the marriage of his excellent patroness’s most favored nephew!”
It was so apropos that Darcy could not help but laugh.
Later that morning, after they returned to the house, the housekeeper presented Darcy with a letter that had arrived for him that morning. By the handwriting and direction on the letter, Darcy knew it was from his uncle, and while he expected to receive no pleasure reading it, he cracked the seal and perused it.
“Can I guess the contents of your letter?”
Looking up, Darcy noted his aunt watching him, her expression knowing; she must have seen the missive and understood what it contained. Elizabeth, Darcy noted, was speaking with Anne at the pianoforte, Elizabeth showing Anne a few simple tunes. It was just as well, Darcy thought, for he had no desire to increase her burdens by informing her of his uncle’s continued disapproval.
“I should be surprised if you must guess,” groused Darcy. “More of the same I have had from him since we departed Hertfordshire. My pursuit of Miss Elizabeth is imprudent, I should allow him to introduce me to some insipid daughters of his cronies, and so on. If he keeps on in this manner, he will provoke me to say something to him that he will not appreciate in the least.”
“That I would not recommend,” said Lady Catherine. “It will only make matters worse.”
Knowing his aunt was correct but not feeling charitable at the moment, Darcy grunted a response and glared down at the letter in his hands. Though his offense urged him to crumple it and throw it into the fire, Darcy refrained, as much from the desire to leave Elizabeth unaware of the letter as for any respect of his uncle. Instead, he folded the missive and placed it in his pocket.
“I have also received a communication,” said Lady Catherine, drawing Darcy’s attention back to her. “It is from Susan.”
“Does she take the same stance as my uncle?” asked Darcy. To himself, he could own the question was more than a little sulky.
“No, she does not,” replied Lady Catherine. “Susan, though I do not know the specifics of her opinion, at least likes Elizabeth. Furthermore, she recognizes your ability and determination to choose your path and is not inclined to challenge it.”
Darcy grunted, feeling a little lighter about the situation than he had a few moments before. “Then what does she say?”
“Nothing more than an inquiry into the situation at present, to which I shall respond today. We spoke before she left Netherfield.”
“Oh?” asked Darcy with interest. This was not something he had heard before.
“Susan is not of a mind to go against her husband, and I cannot fault her for it, not with Hugh’s current state of mind. She agreed to leave the specifics of the matter to me, and I have kept her informed, not only of developments concerning you and Elizabeth but also about Elizabeth’s stay here. Needless to say, Susan is impressed with your young woman.”
Lady Catherine paused and looked over to the pianoforte where the two young ladies there had burst into laughter. After regarding them for some moments, Lady Catherine turned back to Darcy.
“Elizabeth has impressed me over and over, though I wish she would allow me to bring in a master to assist; her playing would become quite fine if she would allow it. Perhaps I shall present it as a fait accompli.”
Though he did not think this was a good notion at all—Elizabeth was more apt to dig in her heels when she felt she was being pressured—Darcy said nothing. Better to allow Elizabeth to argue this point with Lady Catherine herself.
“As for Hugh,” continued Lady Catherine, “I recommend you allow the matter to rest for a time, regardless of how many angry letters he sends you. Hugh will accept Elizabeth eventually; he will have no choice now that you are engaged. At present, he is focused on protecting the family name, and this is how he sees his duty.”
“He is incorrect,” said Darcy.
“I dare say he is,” said Lady Catherine. “But it is best to avoid causing an argument, Darcy. Allow nature to take its course. Go to Longbourn and gain Mr. Bennet’s permission. Then Hugh will have little choice but to extend Elizabeth his civility, if not his warmth.”
It was not the worst advice, Darcy decided. As such, he nodded.
“That would be best for the present.”
Lady Catherine appeared ready to say something further, likely another admonition to go to Longbourn as soon as possible to solicit Mr. Bennet’s consent. After a moment, however, she seemed to think better of it and nodded. Then she changed the subject and began to speak of the estate, for which Darcy was grateful. They spent the rest of the morning in this agreeable manner until luncheon.
“Of all the obstinate, mulish, pigheaded men on God’s green earth, I declare Fitzwilliam Darcy to be the worst!”
Aware as he was the reason for his father’s outburst, Fitzwilliam rolled his eyes and exchanged a glance with his mother, who was as unimpressed with the earl’s displeasure as he himself was. The letter that had arrived that morning was clutched in his father’s hand, waving about like some white flag of surrender. It was an incongruous thought, for there was nothing of surrender in Fitzwilliam Darcy, particularly concerning a matter of which he thought so strongly. And Darcy could have no stronger feelings than those for Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Fitzwilliam recognized this, even if his father would not.
“What does he say?” asked his mother, unnecessarily in Fitzwilliam’s opinion.
The earl whirled on his wife, his countenance red with fury. “What does he say? What has he said through this entire farce of courtship with his little baggage! He refuses to oblige me, telling me—me!—that he will do as he pleases.
“How he cannot understand how insufficient the Bennet family is as gentlefolk, let alone their utter lack of suitability to claim a connection to us is beyond my comprehension. He has strayed far from his father’s teachings, for I cannot imagine Robert Darcy approving of his son’s intractable insistence on paying his attention to this woman. How he must be rolling in his grave!”
“In that, I believe you are incorrect,” said Lady Susan, drawing the earl’s outraged eyes to her. “Robert cared for his son’s happiness, and he knew the right wife would ensure that happiness. He loved Anne very much, if you recall.”
“I am well aware of that,” snapped the earl. “But Anne was the daughter of an earl. His son can aspire to the same, and yet he is intent upon throwing it away in favor of that little adventuress.”
“That is the second time you have referred to Miss Elizabeth in an unflattering manner,” interjected Fitzwilliam. “I would suggest you curb your language, Father, for it will only make the situation worse if you referred to her in such a way in front of Darcy.”
“I shall refer to her in whatever manner I wish!” bellowed Lord Matlock.
“Come, Hugh,” said Lady Susan, beckoning to her husband. “Let us sit and discuss this like rational adults. There is no need to carry on in such a way.”
Though Fitzwilliam wondered if his father would agree, at length he huffed and joined his wife on the sofa. The other occupants of the room were watching with varying levels of astonishment, satisfaction, or apprehension, and Fitzwilliam noted Georgiana was in the latter category. Catching his cousin’s eye, Fitzwilliam smiled and nodded, trying to set the girl at ease. She was correct to be apprehensive—if her uncle knew how close she had come to eloping with George Wickham, a man more objectionable by far than Miss Elizabeth Bennet, his fury would know no bounds. Darcy and Fitzwilliam had made the joint decision to keep the information from the knowledge of their family—other than Lady Susan, who they had sworn to secrecy—for precisely this reason.
“If you do not intend to agree with my position,” said the earl, glaring at his wife, “I would prefer not to hear your thoughts. We should bend all our thought to how to convince Darcy of the error of his convictions. Anything else is pointless.”
“Do you suppose I am unwilling to think for myself?” demanded Lady Susan in a tone that caused more than one wince. “I am capable of coming to my own conclusions, Hugh, and I will thank you to not forget that fact.”
The countess had a core of steel in her, and while she did not often show it, no one, not even her husband, could command her against her will. Fitzwilliam knew his father was not unaware of this; another time he might have backed down, though in his instance his dander was raised to the extent that he did not hesitate to challenge her.
“Do you support this madness then?”
“I have said no such thing.”
Fitzwilliam privately thought his mother did support Miss Elizabeth, though to speak of it would be to provoke a further argument. “I only suggest we remember that Darcy, in the end, will choose without respect for anything anyone else might say.”
“That is the problem,” was the earl’s sour reply. “And I am not happy with Catherine’s decision to invite the bag—” The earl paused and glanced at Fitzwilliam before amending his statement. “To invite the girl to Rosings was unnecessary. Given how hard she pushed for Darcy’s marriage to Anne, I am surprised at how her stance has changed.”
“I am not,” replied Lady Susan. “It seems to me that Catherine has always understood it was not certain that Darcy would marry Anne. When Anne refused, Lady Catherine had no choice but to accept it or force herself from her nephew’s life. She does nothing more than support Darcy’s right to choose his path to happiness. You can also make the case that Catherine acts in a manner calculated to ensure Miss Elizabeth’s acceptance in society when she eventually makes her debut.”
The earl was not happy with his wife for stating Miss Elizabeth’s debut as if it were a matter already decided. It was surprising that he did not retort at once, a pause Fitzwilliam used to his advantage to divert the course of the conversation.
“Come now, Mother,” said Fitzwilliam, showing his mother a grin. “You cannot say that Lady Catherine’s capitulation is not shocking. I might have almost expected the war to make its way across the channel in response to her disappointment.”
“Then you—none of you—understand Catherine as I do.” Lady Susan’s gaze swept over them all. “Though Catherine can be irascible and difficult, her support of family is unmatched by anyone of my acquaintance. Once she determined that Miss Elizabeth is not objectionable, she came around to her support.”
“Her character may not be objectionable, but she is unsuitable nonetheless,” insisted the earl.
“If Darcy considers her suitable,” said Lady Susan, “then nothing you or I say will deter him.”
They glared at each other for a long moment, neither giving an inch.
“Frankly, I do not know what all this fuss is about,” said Charity, inserting herself into the silence. “Elizabeth is no less than wonderful. If Darcy does not care that she does not bring an extensive fortune, why should we care?”
“Because she lessens our family,” said Rachel, glaring at her sister.
“I know of no way she can do so.” Charity, as usual, was not giving an inch. “Our respectability is not at question, and I dare say that Elizabeth will do no harm to Darcy’s respectability either.”
“What of her family?” spat Rachel.
“Have you met her family?” rejoined Charity.
“Girls, that is enough,” said Lady Susan, glaring at her daughters. Then she gave her eldest daughter a pointed look. “I thought you liked Miss Elizabeth.”
Rachel sniffed, though she did not pass up the opportunity for one last glare at her sister. “I do like Elizabeth. But given this news of her family, I cannot ignore her unsuitability. And the behavior of those near her home; I cannot but wonder if she will betray some measure of the same.”
“Can you blame Elizabeth for what her neighbors say?” demanded Charity.
“Their behavior reflects on her.”
“That is the biggest load of tripe I have ever heard!”
“Again, I will remind you all it is not for us to decide,” interjected Fitzwilliam when his mother appeared ready to call her daughters to order again. “The only opinion that matters in this is Darcy’s.”
“I wonder if I should contact one of my acquaintances,” mused the earl. “If I present a signed betrothal agreement to Darcy, it is possible he might give up his fascination and see sense.”
“That is a spectacularly bad idea, Father,” said Fitzwilliam. When the earl opened his mouth to protest, Fitzwilliam said: “What do you suppose Darcy’s response to that scheme would be? Darcy is his own man; you have no authority to sign anything on his behalf.”
“I agree with Anthony,” said Lady Susan. “If you attempted such nonsense, Darcy would rightly tear up any such contract. Then where would you be? Estranged from your nephew and an ally offended.”
“At present,” muttered the earl, “I should not repine distance from Darcy, given how he is behaving.”
“Darcy would say the same thing of you, I expect,” said Fitzwilliam.
While his father gave him a sour look, he shook his head. “I suppose you must be correct,” muttered he before falling silent.
The earl was not a man to give up a notion that appealed to him after so little argument, leaving Fitzwilliam certain that his father was considering the matter at greater length. Though he did not think his father would lose the use of his reason to such an extent as to go to such lengths to control Darcy, he could not be certain. This would bear watching, as any such attempt would cause a break in the family.
Perhaps it would be best to alert Darcy to the possibility. If he had not already proposed to Miss Elizabeth—and Fitzwilliam was not at all certain he had not—this would goad him to action. At the very least, Darcy would ensure Lord Matlock knew the consequences of such foolhardy intrigue.