A Darcy Christmas

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.”

This remark surprised everyone who was not privy to Mrs. Bennet’s plan of marrying her younger daughter to Mr. Collins’s brother and her hopeful belief that Mr. Collins himself would soon be dead.

Lady Catherine ignored her and said to Elizabeth, “You must have a girl.”

Mrs. Bennet shook her head firmly.

“No, Lady Catherine, with that I cannot agree,” she said. “Girls are a great deal of trouble.”

“Not if they have a governess,” said Lady Catherine. “A great deal of trouble is just what a governess will prevent. I have been the means of supplying a great many governesses to a great many deserving families and they have all thanked me for the attention most effusively. Four nieces of Mrs. Jenkinson are most delightfully situated through my means, and I have sometimes recommended young ladies who were merely accidentally mentioned to me. The families are always delighted with them. You, girl,” she said to Kitty. “Do you have a governess?”

“No, your Ladyship,” said Kitty.

“And you?” she said to Maria Lucas.

“No,” admitted Maria.

“And you?” she asked Mary.

“I have found that personal study is much more efficacious than the exhortations of another female,” said Mary. “By virtue of reading and making extensive extracts, I have, without any assistance, become the most accomplished young lady in the neighbourhood.”

“Indeed? And how large is your neighbourhood? No, do not reply. It is the size of a pocket handkerchief, I suppose. It is clear to me that you have all been sadly neglected,” said Lady Catherine. “Mrs. Bennet, you must take your remaining daughters in hand. It will not to do have them running off with stewards’ sons like your other girl. A nice, sensible curate would do for them, I am sure.”

“I hope I know my girls’ entitlements better than to think them fit for nothing more than a curate,” said Mrs. Bennet. “Now that Jane and Lizzy are so well settled, I see no reason why they should not marry lords. I am sure they are good enough.”

Lady Catherine ignored her and turned to Elizabeth.

“If you have a girl, she will be able to marry the Duke of Wexington’s son. He is at present two years old and will remain two years her senior throughout his life. It is a good age difference, and of course he comes from the very best family.”

“Since the baby is not born yet, it seems a little early to be finding her a husband, particularly as she may be a boy,” remarked Elizabeth.

“It is never too early,” said Lady Catherine.

“In this I have to agree, Lizzy,” said Mrs. Bennet. “It really is never too early to think of suitable matches, for you have no idea how difficult it is to find people later on.”

“And then there is the Devingshire boy,” said Lady Catherine. “He might do, although Lord Devingshire looks like a sheep, and it would perhaps be wise to wait a few years and see which of his parents the boy favours.”

“I thank you for your interest, but I am sure our son or daughter will be able to choose their own spouse with very little help from us. Darcy and I managed to find each other. Our child will only need to follow our example to make the best match possible.”

Mrs. Bennet, completely misunderstanding Elizabeth, gave a happy sigh and said, “You are right, Lizzy, you caught a man with ten thousand a year and an estate in Derbyshire. I am sure your daughter will do just as well.”