“So are we to understand that the highly coveted and ever-elusive master of Pemberley has found someone who has enticed him to the altar at last?” asked Lady Sowersby, barely able to conceal her enthusiasm.
Lady Catherine snorted. “You do not know the half of it, Eleanor!”
Lady Malcolm appraised her shrewdly. “If my eyes have not deceived me, Catherine, your nephew has fallen in love with this pretty, young woman, leaving you with no prospective bridegroom for Anne and a bitter taste in your mouth.”
“Fallen in love with her!” she spat. “What has love to do with anything? She has drawn him in and has ruined any chance Anne has of finding happiness. Just look what she has done to him! She is penniless and unconnected, yet he can hardly attend to anything but her!” She gestured furiously at Darcy, who was, at that very moment, speaking in Elizabeth’s ear, an intimate smile playing across his lips. His wife turned to him with a smile that echoed his and laughed at whatever he had said; then she rested her hand upon his upper arm and laid her head against his shoulder for a few moments. Darcy pressed a kiss to her temple and closed his eyes. In a gesture of obvious devotion, Elizabeth lifted his hand to her lips, bestowing a kiss upon his knuckles. Lady Sowersby sighed at their touching, yet highly improper display.
“Yes,” countered Lady Malcolm, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “God forbid the poor man ever finds himself happy in life.” She turned toward Lady Catherine. “I daresay your favorite nephew is far better off as he is now, Catherine—married to an agreeable young woman who obviously cares a great deal for his society, rather than being constantly pursued by the countless others who care only for his prominent position
“And a love match at that,” sighed Lady Sowersby. “Just like that of his dear parents. It is precisely like a fairy tale, is it not?”
Lady Catherine only scowled, choosing not to respond, and they soon turned their attention back to the performance on stage.
Forgive me, Bingley. I realize I should not have allowed my temper to get the better of me, but considering the circumstances, I am afraid it could not be helped. I had it on good authority your sister had been responsible for regaling her friends with her distorted prejudices regarding Elizabeth’s situation and the nature of my attentions to her during the course of our courtship. She was hardly discreet, as several of Mrs. Duval’s assistants were speaking most improperly of the hateful gossip Caroline had imparted to Cecelia Hayward in their presence.”
Darcy rose from the mahogany desk in his study to stand before the window, clearly agitated. “To this day, Elizabeth has not spoken of it to me, but Georgiana immediately informed me she had witnessed firsthand the very great pain and mortification Elizabeth experienced that day in Bond Street. Your sister’s bitterness led the staff to treat Elizabeth with rudeness and contempt. In light of that fact and the unpleasant scene that unfolded at Hurst’s home shortly before my wedding day, I can no longer pretend your sister’s behavior toward my wife is anything other than calculating and spiteful. I will not stand idly by and allow my wife to be harassed and humiliated, Bingley.”
Bingley ran his hands over his face and sighed. “No, of course not, Darcy, nor will I allow it. Do not forget that Elizabeth and I shall soon become brother and sister.” Bingley walked several paces. “Damn! I had a strong suspicion Caroline had purposely withheld some sort of pertinent information regarding her encounter with you in Bond Street the other day. Now I have a much better understanding as to why. Thank you for enlightening me.”
Darcy walked to the sideboard and poured two glasses of brandy. He handed one to Bingley, which his friend gratefully accepted, then resumed his original station behind his desk. “Bingley, as a testament to the strength of our friendship—and assuming it is also what you wish—I would, of course, be willing to acknowledge your sister in society. However, unless she is able to treat Elizabeth with the respect and civility that is her due as my wife, I regret to say she will no longer be welcome in my home. In
To Darcy’s surprise, his friend laughed. “Do you mean to tell me we might actually manage to pass a fortnight at Pemberley in relative peace, then? Without fear of Caroline’s constant raptures on the evenness of your writing or the length of your correspondence?”
Darcy joined him, a chuckle escaping his lips. “Or the many accomplishments of a truly refined lady or the extensive size of my library or the superiority of Madame Harnois’s blancmange as opposed to that of the Hursts’
Both men took long, satisfying drinks from their glasses, each clearly occupied by his own thoughts.
Bingley gave him a sly grin. “I was just thinking, Darcy, that perhaps you should not be too hasty in your reconciliation with Caroline. You know, this could be just the thing she needs to humble her once and for all. I would be very interested to see how my high-and-mighty sister would react to being reminded that your wife is the granddaughter of a gentleman, something Caroline, with her dowry of twenty thousand pounds, cannot claim herself. Our grandfather, you will recall, was in trade.”
Darcy returned his self-satisfied smile. “You know, Bingley, being well acquainted with your sister and her inability to hold her tongue and her temper when in company, I daresay the possibility of seeing her humbled in society may yet be realized.” Eying his friend’s empty glass, Darcy asked, “Would you care for another, Bingley?”
Bingley nodded and offered his glass to his host. “I don’t mind if I do, Darcy! I don’t mind if I do!”
Elizabeth was walking in Hyde Park on a particularly mild winter morning with Jane and her Aunt Gardiner when she felt a wave of light-headedness overtake her. She stumbled, managing to catch Jane’s arm, but her vision was soon obscured by encroaching darkness, and she collapsed, unconscious, upon the ground. She awoke moments later to the concerned face of her aunt hovering over her as she lay with her head cradled upon Jane’s lap.
“Oh, Lizzy! Thank goodness you have come back to us!” It was Jane’s worried voice she heard first, and in an effort to reassure her, Elizabeth reached for her hand and held it, returning the slight pressure Jane applied. She attempted to rise, but her aunt urged her to lie still.
“Lizzy, my dear, how are you feeling? Can you remember what happened?” asked her aunt, whose composure was remarkably collected.
“I hardly know. I remember feeling warm and light-headed, and then everything began to grow dark, but I can recall nothing beyond that.”
Mrs. Gardiner laid the back of her hand upon Elizabeth’s forehead and then her cheek. “You fainted, Elizabeth. Tell me, have you been feeling unwell lately?”
“No, not at all, except I have felt a little light-headed on other occasions, but only when I happen to rise quickly from my chair or from my bed in the morning.”
Her aunt gave her an appraising look. “Were you ill this morning, or any other mornings?”
Elizabeth answered in the negative.
“Have you felt unusually tired at all?”
“Yes, now that you mention it, I have, but I suspect that is due only to my not getting enough sleep lately.”
They spoke some more while Elizabeth rested, and after the passing of another few minutes, she was well able to rise to her feet with Jane’s assistance and to think of returning to Grosvenor Square for some light refreshment.
Though the reality of her fainting had frightened her to some degree, she no longer felt she was in any danger of repeating the act, and, as she had felt recovered enough to walk on her own two legs to the carriage, she
