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Elizabeth dropped the letter on her bed and followed Maria out of her room, down the staircase, and into Mr Collins’s study, which had a large window that gave onto a view of the lane next to the parsonage. She had been expecting some disastrous sight—perhaps a fallen tree which had damaged the parsonage gardens or even a particularly magnificent specimen of deer which had wandered in from Rosings Park. Instead, all she saw were two ladies in a low phaeton that had stopped by the main parsonage gates.
“Is that all?” said Elizabeth in disappointment. “What a to-do and it is nothing but Lady Catherine and her daughter.”
“Oh no!” said Maria, shaking her head vehemently. “That is certainly not Lady Catherine. The older lady is Mrs Jenkinson, who is a lady’s companion, and the younger lady is Lady Catherine’s daughter, Miss Anne de Bourgh.”
Elizabeth peered through the windowpane. “Why does she not come in? It is abominably rude of her to keep Charlotte out of doors in all this wind.”
“Charlotte says she hardly ever does. It is a great honour if Miss de Bourgh comes in.”
“She sounds as conceited a creature as her mother,” said Elizabeth.
Maria gasped, shocked at Elizabeth’s outspokenness. At that moment, Charlotte turned and spied them through the window. She beckoned with a hand. Elizabeth hesitated—she had no wish to wait upon a spoilt young madam, though she did want to support her friend. Making no great effort to hurry, she exited the parsonage and approached the gate.
“Miss de Bourgh, Mrs Jenkinson, may I present my friend, Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” said Charlotte.
Elizabeth dropped a brief curtsy as she eyed the occupants of the phaeton curiously. Mrs Jenkinson was a thin, elderly woman with a beaked nose and bloodless lips that seemed perpetually pressed together in displeasure. She wore wire spectacles through which she peered at Elizabeth, looking her up and down with great condescension. Elizabeth was surprised at the companion’s haughty manner—perhaps the association with one so grand as Lady Catherine de Bourgh transferred self-importance to those in her employ as well!
Elizabeth turned towards the other occupant of the phaeton, expecting to see a similarly arrogant countenance, and was surprised instead to see a young lady, not much older than herself, who seem to be swathed in a mountain of blankets despite the mild spring weather. Her face, which peeked out from beneath a large fur-trimmed bonnet, was pretty but pale, and as she looked at Elizabeth shyly, she attempted a small smile. Elizabeth found herself smiling back. This was not the Anne de Bourgh she had expected and she felt an instant liking for the girl.
“I am very pleased to make your acquaintance,” said Anne, her voice so faint that Elizabeth had to strain her ears to hear. “I have heard much about you from Mrs Collins. She is fortunate to have so good a friend come to visit. I wish I had such friends as companions...” She looked wistful.
Mrs Jenkinson bristled next to her. “Do I not provide you with loyal companionship, Miss Anne?”
Anne turned swiftly towards her and laid a placating hand on her arm. “Oh, I meant no criticism, Mrs Jenkinson. Of course I have cherished your company these many years. But it would be nice to have the companionship of someone my own age.”
“Do you not have friends from your childhood?” asked Elizabeth. “Perhaps another young lady from a local family who shared your education or play times?”
Anne shook her head sadly. “My mother did not deem the children from the nearby families of an acceptable standard for me to mix with. I had private tutors and was rarely permitted to leave Rosings Park. Indeed, I have very few acquaintances my own age. Edwin... I mean, Mr Hargreaves, who is staying with us at present, is the only friend I have known from childhood. It has been lovely having him here, to have someone to discuss books and such with...” She blushed slightly. “But he is a gentleman and it is not the same as female company.”
Elizabeth felt a stab of pity for the girl. What was it like to grow up in the shadow of a mother such as Lady Catherine de Bourgh?
“Well, it is never too late to make new friends,” said Elizabeth impulsively, stepping forwards. “I shall be pleased to offer my services,” she added with a teasing smile. “We may find some areas of common interest, though I warn you, I am not the most accomplished of young ladies.”
“Oh, that would not signify,” said Anne, her face flushing with pleasure. “I should be honoured to make a friend of you.”
“Perhaps you would like to come in for tea, Miss de Bourgh?” asked Charlotte.
“Oh! I should like that above all else—” Anne shifted eagerly, attempting to lift the blankets around her.
“Certainly not!” said Mrs Jenkinson, frowning. “You have already expended your energies today with this morning’s visit to Hunsford village and the apothecary. You know that over-exertion could be disastrous for your health. You must not forget how frail you are, Miss Anne. Besides...” She looked at the parsonage and sniffed. “Such surroundings are hardly suitable for a lady of your rank.”
Elizabeth felt a flash of irritation. It was on the tip of her tongue to say that if a lady of Miss de Bourgh’s consequence had no objection, her companion should hardly complain, but she restrained herself. She did not want to embarrass Charlotte by causing a scene.
Anne looked crestfallen. “Oh... but surely a short visit is—”
“Out of the question.”
“Do not trouble yourself, Miss de Bourgh,” said Charlotte hastily. “We shall see each other tonight, for your mother has kindly invited us to her dinner party. I’m sure you and Miss Bennet will have ample opportunity to converse then.”
Anne brightened. “Yes, I shall look forward to that.” She smiled shyly again at Elizabeth. “And I hope the offer of friendship may still be open then?”
Elizabeth was pleased to catch the teasing tone in the other girl’s voice. “It certainly shall.” She stood back from the gate with Charlotte as the phaeton moved on.
“You have achieved something remarkable, Eliza,” Charlotte commented as they watched the phaeton turn into the entrance of Rosings Park.
“What do you mean?” asked Elizabeth.
“That is the most animated I have seen Miss de Bourgh in all the time since I moved to Hunsford. Why, I have never seen her smile with such pleasure or so much colour suffuse her cheeks. And for her to even attempt some teasing and banter!”
“She is not what I expected,” admitted Elizabeth. “I had thought her to be a haughty replica of her mother, but she seems a sweet girl.”
“Oh, she is not conceited in the least,” said Charlotte. “Indeed, she is nothing like her mother. She has always been most kind and civil to me—perhaps a bit too civil for propriety, for Mrs Jenkinson is constantly reminding her of her rank compared to my position. I fancy Miss de Bourgh would call more often and even come in to partake of refreshment, were she not with her companion.”
“I could well believe it,” said Elizabeth darkly. “What a dragon! I did not like her condescending manner towards you at all. It is hard enough to suffer it from one of Lady Catherine’s consequence, but Mrs Jenkinson is nothing more than a companion and in no position to speak to you thus.”
Charlotte laughed and put a hand on Elizabeth’s arm. “Do not fly into the boughs for me, Eliza. I have not your fiery temperament, nor your appetite for indignation. Such social slights do not vex me. I have a comfortable home, with much to entertain and please me, and that is all I ask. A few churlish words from a silly woman is hardly worth my fretting over.”
Elizabeth looked at her friend with new admiration. She had always known Charlotte to be a reasonable and intelligent woman, but here was a new example of her good sense. There was much wisdom in her words and Elizabeth knew that she should strive harder to mimic Charlotte’s complacency, to not let things rile her temper. Her impatience with others and her tendency to judge on first impressions had brought her to grief more than once already.
For some reason, her thoughts flew to Mr Darcy. Her opinion of that gentleman had certainly undergone a radical change from when she had first met him. She no longer considered him simply an arrogant, disagreeable man, full of disdainful pride. Admittedly, there was an aloof, reserved side to him, but she was beginning to realise that there was far more to Darcy than what society saw of him. He was a man of great depth and contradictions, and no other man intrigued her like he did.
He will be at the dinner party tonight, Elizabeth thought and she felt her heartbeat quicken in anticipation.
