“Thank you, but I have no intention of sitting down all evening; I intend to dance. You look surprised.”
“Nothing you could ever say or do would surprise me! But are you sure it is wise?”
“Wise or not, I intend to do it. I am looking forward to it. I have not danced for months,” she said.
“Then I will make sure Mr. Collins keeps a dance free for you!”
Elizabeth laughed.
“I thank you, but I believe that, if Mr. Collins asks for my hand, I will confess to fatigue and sit the dance out. It was barely tolerable dancing with him at Netherfield. I do not believe I could endure the mortification a second time. Charlotte was very wise to stay at Lucas Lodge. I am sure she is far happier with her baby! A girl for Charlotte, a boy for Jane. I wonder which it will be for us?” she mused, resting her hand on her stomach. “Do you mind?” she asked him.
“No.”
“Not even a little bit? You do, after all, need an heir.”
“A girl will do as well as a boy; in our family it has never mattered. Besides, if we do not have a boy this time, we will have one next time.”
“If there is a next time.”
“Do you not want more children?” he asked, looking at her with interest.
“I will let you know, once I have had this one!” said Lizzy.
She had spoken mischievously, but her words had reminded him of his fears and his brow clouded.
“I wish there were another way or that I could take this from you,” he said seriously.
“What, have the baby for me? You would be the first man in history to do so!”
He smiled, but there was something troubled in his smile.
“If anything should happen to you…”
“Nothing will happen to me,” she said, stroking his hand.
“No, of course not. I just do not like to think of you in pain.”
“Then do not think of it. Think of the ball instead—though, if I cannot escape the attentions of Mr. Collins, you will no doubt have to think of me in pain, and, even worse, see it, for he is sure to step on my toes!”
“That, at least, I can prevent,” said Darcy. “If he claims your hand I will rescue you, I promise you.”
“Will you ride up on a white charger?”
“I brought one with me from Pemberley especially,” he remarked.
Lizzy laughed.
“I am very glad we came,” she said, leaning back against him and smiling contentedly. “It has done me good to see Jane again. In particular, it has done me good to be able to talk to her as it has set my mind at rest on a few things which were worrying me.”
They continued to talk, but as they did so, Darcy continued to be troubled. Elizabeth had had her sister to talk to, but he had talked of his fears to no one. He knew that she would soon be facing an ordeal that neither his wealth nor his position in the world could help her with. Worse, it brought back dark memories of the night of his sister’s birth, when, as a ten-year-old boy, he had wandered, desolate, through the halls of Pemberley, whilst anxious voices had echoed down the corridors.
So troubled was he by these memories that he was glad when Elizabeth exclaimed, “I believe your aunt is here!” and looking out of the window, he saw Lady Catherine’s coach.
The coach rolled to a halt. Footmen jumped down from the roof and opened the door, and Lady Catherine stepped out. Behind her followed Mr. Collins.
Lady Catherine’s commanding voice could be heard through the window, even though it was closed: “… terrible roads… small park… intolerable drive…”
Interspersed were Mr. Collins’s exclamations, “So noble… so good… so condescending…”
And so the odd couple proceeded from the coach to the front door.
“Poor Jane!” said Elizabeth. “We had better go and help her make her unexpected guests welcome.”
“I would rather stay here with you,” said Darcy.
“Do not tempt me! But I cannot leave my sister to face your aunt alone. If I do not miss my guess, Lady Catherine will be criticising everything and everyone roundly.”
And so it proved. As Lizzy and Darcy left the library and crossed the hall, Lady Catherine’s voice could be heard saying, “And so you are settled in Nottinghamshire, Mrs. Bingley. A very inconvenient country. It has the worst weather in England, I believe.”
As Lizzy and Darcy entered the drawing-room, the scene was revealed. Jane stood by the fireplace, with her husband beside her, endeavouring to welcome Lady Catherine. Lady Catherine, however, would not let them speak. Mr. Collins was bobbing up and down behind her ladyship, endeavouring to agree with everything she said, whilst at the same time ingratiating himself with Jane and Bingley and smiling pompously at Mr. and Mrs. Bennet.
Mr. Bennet picked up a newspaper and began to read it assiduously, but such a scene was as welcome to Mrs. Bennet as it was unwelcome to her husband, and she replied firmly to Lady Catherine, “On the contrary. Nottinghamshire has some of the finest weather in the country.”
“If it had some of the finest weather in the country, then it would not be snowing,” said Lady Catherine.
“Quite so,” said Mr. Collins. “Oh, indubitably so.”
“I believe that any country may have snow in December,” said Bingley peaceably.
“We would not dream of it in Kent,” said Lady Catherine.
“In every way a superior country,” said Mr. Collins. “And Rosings Park is one of its finest houses.”
“Only one of its finest houses?” enquired Mr. Bennet with a wink at Lizzy.
Lady Catherine turned towards Mr. Collins with raised eyebrows.
“That is to say, the finest house in Kent,” said Mr. Collins, “a positive jewel in the crown of the countryside, a most noble and elegant dwelling of magnificent and munificent proportions that vies with its illustrious owner in its sagacious and splendid proportions of magnificent munificent sagacious…”
He trailed away in some confusion, having lost himself in the labyrinthine excesses of his compliment.
“You express yourself very well,” said Mr. Bennet gravely.
“Papa!” said Elizabeth, trying to control her laughter. “You forget yourself!”
“Do I, my dear?” he asked mildly.
“That is to say, you forget to welcome Jane’s guests,” she said.
“Ah, yes. Never mind. I am sure Jane is capable of welcoming them herself. If you will excuse me, I believe that Mr. Bingley has a library and I am eager to explore its riches.”
“Lady Catherine, will you not sit down?” asked Jane, as her father left the room.
Lady Catherine looked at the sofa as though wondering whether it was fit to carry her illustrious personage, then said, “I think I will retire to my room.”
“You must be fatigued after your journey,” said Mrs. Bennet.
This was a challenge Lady Catherine could not resist.
“I am never fatigued,” she said. “I do not believe in fatigue. Pray ring for some tea.”
And so saying she removed her cloak, which she handed to Mr. Collins. She sat down on the sofa, peeling off her gloves as she looked around.
“You have a few fine pieces of furniture,” she said to Jane. “The table is pretty.” She looked at the other pieces as if to say, But the rest is not.
Jane thanked her politely.
“And so, you have just had a baby. A boy, I understand.”
“Yes, your ladyship,” said Jane, sitting down in a chair by the fire.
“I saw no point in having a boy myself,” said Lady Catherine. “Since my sister had already had one, I decided I would have a girl instead.”
They were by now all seated.
“It is all very well deciding to have a girl when there is no entail,” said Mrs. Bennet with a heavy sigh. “Once an entail is involved there is no knowing what will happen.”
“The de Bourghs have never believed in entails,” replied Lady Catherine grandly.
“And I am sure I have told Mr. Bennet the same thing until I am blue in the face, but will he listen to me? No. We must have an entail, though why we must have one I cannot imagine,” said Mrs. Bennet. “If not for Kitty, I do not know what we should do.”