to well over. She doubted her ladyship’s “suggestion” had been issued as anything resembling a request. Since Mrs. Jenkinson’s dismissal, Lady Catherine had treated her as a replacement attendant, and Elizabeth had acquiesced more often than she was proud to admit — a sinner doing penance for aiding and abetting Anne’s elopement, though within her own mind she yet defended herself against the charge.
“I have already done so on my own initiative,” she said. “Mr. Crawford, how is Anne’s health today?”
“She was feeling much better—”
Lady Catherine’s muffled voice carried through the closed door. Though her words were indistinguishable, her tone clearly communicated the delight she felt upon being reunited with her newlywed daughter.
“—at least, until a few minutes ago.”
Elizabeth pitied Anne. Standing up to Lady Catherine was difficult enough when one could — well, physically stand up. Anne was unused to directly defying her mother, and her injury rendered her all the more defenseless against Lady Catherine’s verbal assault. As much as Elizabeth wished only to enjoy the exclusive company of her husband and the quiet of her own chamber, she felt compelled to lend Anne her support.
“I believe her ladyship has had sufficient time to wish the bride joy.” She rapped on the door.
“You would divert my aunt’s displeasure toward yourself?” Darcy asked. He appeared fatigued, and Elizabeth recalled that, however unpleasant had been her previous se’nnight, his had been worse.
“I merely return it to its natural course. The new Mrs. Crawford may consider the correction her bridal gift.” She knocked a second time, then opened the door without waiting for a response.
Darcy raised his brows at the presumptive tactic.
“It is impossible for me to sink any further in her ladyship’s esteem,” Elizabeth said before entering. “Join me if you dare.”
Anne greeted her arrival with an expression of relief and gratitude; Lady Catherine, with her usual condemning countenance.
“Is there something you require, Mrs. Darcy?”
“If you have done monopolizing her, I would greet the new Mrs. Crawford.”
Before the startled Lady Catherine could intercept her, Elizabeth went to Anne’s bedside. “I understand congratulations are in order. I hope your marriage brings you much felicity, though I was surprised as anybody to learn of it.”
Anne’s face bespoke confusion. “Truly? But you said you knew what I was about. And that I should accept Henry’s offer if it made me happy.”
“I meant his offer to escort you to the dance floor, not to Gretna Green. I had no presentiment of your eloping. But now you are wed, and we”—she looked meaningfully at Lady Catherine, observing as she did so that Darcy and the other gentlemen had also entered the chamber—“
Lady Catherine’s gaze moved from Elizabeth to Mr. Crawford. It was difficult to determine which of them she held in greater contempt at the moment. “Indeed we must,” she finally declared. “So I would know, Mr. Crawford, how you intend to provide for my daughter. I demand a full reckoning of your worth, because our first order of business will be drawing up the marriage articles your elopement so conveniently avoided. I sincerely hope you did not intend to enhance your income with a bridal settlement from me, for there will be none after the utterly objectionable manner in which you brought about this union.”
Mr. Crawford stepped toward Anne, so as to enter this battle with a united front. Lady Catherine, however, interposed herself. The tactic disconcerted him. For a moment he looked as if he might make a second attempt to reach his wife’s side, but upon further evaluation of his opponent, the errant bridegroom settled for holding his ground.
“I assure you, I am well able to provide for Mrs. Crawford.”
“Anne is accustomed to a certain style of living which must be maintained, both during your lifetime and in the event of your untimely demise.” Her tone suggested that such an event would be considered untimely to only one party of the conversation. “My solicitor has been investigating you and your financial affairs. He will arrive here within a few days’ time to draw up the agreement. Everything from pin money to her widow’s jointure will be specified. I understand you are independent, with property in Norfolk?”
“Indeed. Everingham is a fine estate, and upon coming into possession I made many improvements—”
“It is unencumbered? No entail will prevent Anne or her daughters from inheriting should she bear no sons?”
“Mother!”
“Anne, we must address these matters. They should have been delineated before you wed this man, or any man. You have a fragile constitution. If you predecease your husband, would you have your children left penniless while the son of a second wife inherits everything? If Mr. Crawford dies before you, would you lose your home whilst some remote relation seizes all?”
Though Lady Catherine’s delivery was dramatic, Elizabeth knew all too well that she did not exaggerate the threat that entails posed to women’s security. As Elizabeth had no brothers, upon her father’s death the Bennet family home would go to a distant cousin, leaving her mother and unmarried sister dependent upon the generosity of Mrs. Bennet’s sons-in-law.
“Everingham is unentailed. I may leave it to whomever I wish.”
“What of your spinster sister? Are you responsible for her maintenance?”
Mr. Crawford chuckled. “I would hardly call Mary a spinster. She is still young and I fully expect she will wed, and quite well. But should she not, she inherited a fortune of her own upon our father’s death and can live quite comfortably upon it.”
“Have you other dependents? The estate is not burdened by annuities?”
Mr. Crawford’s expression hardened. “A few superannuated servants receive pensions, but they amount to an insignificant sum. With all due respect, I believe that I have answered enough of these queries at present to satisfy your concerns about Anne’s welfare, and that further discussion of the subject is more appropriately postponed until our solicitors arrive.”
“Due respect? Your decision to elope rather than secure my blessing for my daughter’s hand demonstrates your regard for propriety. As does your infamous affair of last summer. Oh, yes — I know of your liaison with Mrs. Rushworth. Did you think I would not hear of it the moment my solicitor began his enquiries?”
“I anticipated it would come out.”
“It was never hidden! Had you exercised discretion, the affair might be ignored by Polite Society. But you lived together for months, flouting every convention of morality and respectability. You are not a significant enough personage to have been on the lips of every member of the ton, but those who know you, know of the scandal. And now you have mired my daughter in it as well. For centuries the de Bourgh name stood untarnished, until it became allied with yours. Had you not interfered, Anne was to have married a future viscount. A viscount! The only title you bear is that of adulterer — and, Mr. Crawford, I give you notice right now that
“I assure you, they were so the moment I met Anne.”
“Your liaison with Mrs. Rushworth is indeed ended?”
“Most certainly. I have not seen her since we parted last autumn.”
“It is entirely by coincidence, then, that of all places you could contrive an accident that requires your continuance in a remote village, the event occurred in this neighborhood — the seat of Mrs. Rushworth’s family?”
“Mother! You cannot possibly think — Henry, do not even answer that accusation. It is most unjust.”
Mr. Crawford regarded Lady Catherine with indignation. “If you believe me to have orchestrated this mishap, to have intentionally caused Anne harm so that I might be near my mistress, you entirely misjudge my character. Even were I capable of such treachery, Mrs. Rushworth and I did not separate on cordial terms. I would be anywhere in England but Mansfield.”
A knock sounded on the door. Mr. Crawford appeared grateful for the interruption. Indeed, Elizabeth, having endured her share of Lady Catherine’s foul mood, welcomed it herself. Henry opened the door to find Mr. Gower.
“Mr. Crawford, your horse and the other belongings you sent for have arrived.”
“Is Magellan settled in the stables?”
