The Matters at Mansfield

seems to genuinely care for Anne. Yet he is also unrepentant about the elopement, and I cannot decide whether that attitude represents an admirable strength of conviction in the face of opposition, or ungentlemanly arrogance and selfishness.”

“I understand he gained his independence early. Therefore he likely has become accustomed to doing as he pleases.”

“I inherited Pemberley almost as young, and I like to think that I inherited a sense of responsibility along with it. A true gentleman considers the welfare of those who depend upon him. In persuading Anne to elope, he has put his wife in an untenable position with her mother.”

“He bears the greatest portion of her ladyship’s wrath himself. Indeed, one could argue that when they fled to Scotland, Mr. Crawford thought only of Anne’s welfare. I spoke with Anne after Lady Catherine left her chamber, and she revealed her reservations about Mr. Sennex. Both she and Mr. Crawford believe the elopement rescued her from an evil far greater than her mother’s censure. Lady Catherine may, in time, forgive Mr. Crawford, whereas once a marriage took place between Anne and Mr. Sennex, she would have become his legal property and no one would have been able to protect her.”

“What of Mr. Crawford’s affair with Mrs. Rushworth, and the position in which it has left her? Can that be construed as anything but selfish?”

“Adultery is hard to defend, and as I am unacquainted with the particulars, Mr. Crawford will have to provide his own justification if he can. How did he behave toward her just now?”

“The Mrs. Rushworth awaiting him was not his former paramour, but an irate mother accompanied by her wronged son. I suspect that any justification Mr. Crawford attempted to offer was not well received.”

“Mr. Rushworth’s resentment no doubt runs deep.”

“I think his mother’s might run even deeper, and she is not a woman one would want to cross. If Henry Crawford found dealing with his own mother-in-law unpleasant, Maria Rushworth’s is worse. Today has been enough to make me grateful for my own.”

“Indeed? My mother will be in such transport over your admission that she might require a visit of several months to sufficiently vocalize her felicity. Shall we invite her to Pemberley as soon as we return ourselves?”

“I am not that grateful.”

“Just as well. I do not think the bachelors in the neighborhood have quite recovered from her previous stay.”

“Perhaps, then, her next visit ought to be postponed until she has succeeded in her quest to find a husband for your remaining unattached sister.”

“I think that endeavor will gain momentum when she no longer has Kitty’s imminent wedding to distract her.”

“The wedding is not until next spring. I would hardly define that as ‘imminent.’ ”

“It is a wedding, and we are speaking of my mother. By the time our nuptial day arrived, you could have persuaded me to elope.” She fanned herself. “The air is still close. Does the window open farther?” She rose and crossed to the window. Something in the courtyard below caught her attention. “Mr. Crawford appears to have moved his conference outside. I must say, Mrs. Rushworth looks terribly young to have an adult son.”

“Young? The sun must be in your eyes.”

“You can see that the sky is overcast. No, the woman Mr. Crawford argues with is definitely no older than I.”

Darcy approached the window to see for himself. A young woman in high dudgeon carried on an animated quarrel with Mr. Crawford. The Rushworths were nowhere in sight. In the distance, a carriage climbed the rise of the road that led out of the village.

“That is not Mrs. Rushworth. At least, not the Mrs. Rushworth I met.”

The woman might have been pretty, were her features not contorted in fury. As she stomped and waved a paper in her hand, the words “humiliation,” “divorce,” and “ruined” drifted through the window, followed by something not fit for a lady’s ears, let alone lips, which cast aspersions on Mr. Crawford’s parentage.

Her outburst drew the notice of several passers-by. Two women heading toward the church paused to observe the drama.

“Maria, get command of yourself.” Though Mr. Crawford remained calm, he spoke loudly enough for the Darcys to hear. His words only incited Maria to greater hysteria.

“I do have command of myself! I know exactly what I am about. Would that I had possessed such clarity of mind when I first had the misfortune of meeting you!”

The two female spectators divided. One continued toward the church, while the other hurried down the lane toward a white house. Maria and Henry did not want for observers, however. Mr. Gower, the ostler, and two more villagers from a nearby shop found their way to the courtyard.

Mr. Crawford glanced at the gathering crowd. “Perhaps we could discuss this matter in a more private location?”

“So we can be accused of further criminal conversation? Is one trial not sufficient? No, I will not subject myself to more gossip.”

“Arguing about this in front of the entire village will not create gossip?”

“Since your arrival they already talk about nothing but you — you and your wife.” She choked out the final word.

“Maria—” He stepped toward her and said something in a voice too low for others to hear. She regarded him with fresh scorn and shook her head. He spoke again.

She responded with a slap to his face.

“You stay away from her, Mr. Crawford!” cried a lady hurrying down the lane. She had apparently been summoned by the woman who had raced off to the white house and who now trotted in her wake. “Stay away from my poor niece!”

“Mrs. Norris.” Henry rubbed his cheek. “How delightful to see you again.”

“You despicable rake! Have you not caused my dear Maria enough grief?”

“Indeed, madam, I—”

“How dare you show your face in this village? How dare you flaunt your new wife before Maria, before us all — a family who treated you so well? Maria was content with Mr. Rushworth until you led her astray. And now that she has been cast from her father’s home, with no one in the world but me to treat her kindly, you arrive in Mansfield with your bridal entourage to humiliate her further.”

“I assure you, that is not my purpose in—”

“Sir Thomas knows you are here. Your presence is an insult not only to Maria, but to all her family, especially her father. And to me, who took her in, thinking nothing of myself or my own reputation. I performed my duty as a Christian and as an aunt, despite the burden of supporting us both on a poor widow’s income. And whilst I sacrifice and Maria suffers, you blithely parade through the village with no conscience or shame. I have never seen the like in all my days…”

She excoriated him in this manner for several minutes more. Henry Crawford was a rogue, a knave, a scoundrel, a libertine. He was evil incarnate, and apparently entirely to blame for the falls of Maria, someone named Julia, and the Holy Roman Empire.

“She left out Adam and Eve,” Elizabeth said to Darcy.

“I think she simply has not gotten to them yet.” Darcy closed the window against the sound of Mrs. Norris’s voice rising to another fevered pitch. Overhearing the scene below caused him greater discomfort than the temperature in the room. Though the actors insisted on a public performance, observing it nonetheless felt like eavesdropping. He moved away from the window, no easy feat in the tiny chamber.

Elizabeth, too, turned her back on the display. “Do you suppose we ought to rescue him?”

“Mr. Crawford is responsible for himself and must make whatever amends he can with the people he has wronged.”

Mrs. Norris’s euphonic tones carried through the glass. Darcy winced.

“But perhaps we can contain the spectacle.”