Darcy and Anne

antagonize Lady Catherine with his opinions, for he had none. Alas, Anne could only recall the wedding service she had so recently attended, and “the mutual society, help, and comfort the one should have of the other” would not go out of her mind. It would be a marriage with a man with whom she hardly shared a thought; she could not contemplate it.

Little Lewis continued to thrive, and it was now almost certain that the entire Bennet family, as well as the Bingleys, would come north for the child's christening, in a few weeks, as soon as Mrs Bingley was considered well enough to travel. The question being urgently canvassed by the family was, what should be done about the Bennet sister known as “Lydia.” Should she be invited? Would it be possible to invite her, and not include her husband? Anne felt she would quite like to meet the obviously fascinating Mr Wickham. Surely his eloping with Lydia should be overlooked? They were, after all, married now. But there was something unsaid, some other reason why he was not an acceptable visitor at Pemberley, and it was clear in any case that Lydia herself was not much liked. Elizabeth described her as noisy, silly, and indiscreet, and said that Darcy disliked her almost as much as her husband.

One morning, while they were all having breakfast, Darcy was reading the newspaper. Suddenly he exclaimed “Good G——!” and carelessly setting down his cup, spilt coffee all over the table.

“Whatever is it, my love?” his wife asked.

“When gentlemen are reading the newspaper,” she said to Anne, “expletives are to be expected, but usually it is only some promotion at the Admiralty or some squabble at a Ministry, or some such thing. When it comes to spilling coffee, it is rather more serious. What is it, my love?” but Darcy seemed almost unable to speak.

“She has married him! She has married him!” was all that he could say; and crushing the paper together, he said to his wife, “It concerns Anne; I do not know how to tell her; we should speak together alone.”

“Come, my dear,” Elizabeth said. “Anne is not a child; she can hear it, whatever it is.”

“Indeed I can,” Anne said. “come, cousin, who has married whom? I hope,” she added, laughing, “that it is Lord Francis, then I should be rid of him.”

“It is indeed Lord Francis,” Darcy said, “but he has married…”

“Well?”

“He has married your mother.”

There it was, in all the awful certainty of print, and all the clarity of black and white: On the — th, at Stilbury Castle, in a private ceremony, the Lady Catherine, relict of Sir Lewis de Bourgh, to Lord Francis Meaburn, second son of the Duke of H——.

Lady Catherine had married Lord Francis Meaburn.

Chapter 24

The news struck them speechless. The awesome Lady Catherine was a widow no more! come to that, she was “Lady Catherine” no more; and indeed, for the first few startled moments, Anne wondered if she were still her mother.

This was the reason for her disappearance! this the reason for her silence! once they could speak, everyone had a question, everyone had a conjecture. Elizabeth wondered whose idea the match had been; it must, she thought, be the Duchess who had thought of it. Darcy wanted to know what kind of bargain Lord Francis had driven: “My aunt talked of money being tied up,” he said, “but it is not so easy to tie up the income of a married woman, who is unlikely to have any children.” Georgiana wondered how two such old people could get married.

“How old are they?” Elizabeth asked.

“I do not think that there is so great a disparity,” Darcy said. “I found out the other day, when we thought he might marry Anne—I looked him up in the Peerage—that Lord Francis is three-and-forty, and I believe my aunt is not yet fifty.”

“She is eight-and-forty,” Anne said. “She is closer in age to him than I am, though of course she is older, not younger.”

What could have driven them to such a match? “I think the reason is obvious,” Darcy said. “On his side, money; he needs money very badly. On her side, rank; she has become the sister of a Duchess and, since Meaburn's father is still alive, the daughter of a Duke. She will stay at Stilbury—indeed, clearly, she is already there. She will visit at Deepcombe, the Meaburn estate.”

“But how will she like it, associating with such great people?” Elizabeth asked. “She will not be able to scold and manage them, as she does her tenants at Rosings.”

“Could she get a post at the court?” Georgiana asked.

“I imagine so,” said her brother, “if she wished it, and would be happy to stand, wearing all her diamonds, in silence, for three hours together.”

“Might she be a Duchess, one day?”

“No,” said Darcy. “There are two older brothers, each with several children. A half-dozen people would have to die before she became a Duchess.”

Elizabeth caught her breath on the observation that things often turned out the way Lady Catherine wanted them to, and only thought to herself that she would not wager a great deal of money on the lives of the little Meaburns.

At that moment, the butler entered. “Excuse me, madam, sir, the post has arrived, and there is a packet of letters for Mr Darcy, which must be paid for, and will be quite costly, but I do not know the sender. Should it be returned, or do you know a person named Lady Francis Meaburn?”

“No, I do not…” Darcy began. “Yes, of course I do. Yes, Forrest, yes! Pay; and bring it here as fast as you can. It is my aunt! That is her married name!”

The packet was brought, and was almost torn open in the hurry of everyone to satisfy their curiosity. Clearly, it should have been delivered earlier, but the newspaper had arrived first. It might be some vagary of the post office. “But I wonder if they waited, in the hope of getting a frank,” Darcy said. “I think that the Duke of Stilbury is seldom at home. They may have waited a day or so, and then sent it.”

There were two letters, one for Darcy, and one for Anne, and two legal-looking documents, which turned out to be a copy of Lady Catherine's marriage lines, and a copy of Sir Lewis de Bourgh's Will. “That was what they were waiting for,” said Darcy. “Colby must have had to hurry from Rosings to Stilbury with it.”

The sum of the letters was that, “according to established usage,” Lady Catherine's entire assets had been made over to her new husband, as it would all be needed to keep the newly married couple in their station in life. This meant that no provision would in future be made for Anne, “in view of her recalcitrance in the matter of a suitable marriage,” beyond the income she was already receiving from the estate of Sir Lewis de Bourgh. Further, she should not expect the property known as Rosings Park, in Kent, to be bequeathed to her, for, as the Will clearly showed, it was the unentailed property of her mother.

“Established usage, indeed?” said Darcy, “to deprive a daughter of her entire dowry? Lord Francis has driven a hard bargain.”

“More probably his sister,” Elizabeth said.

“However,” her mother's letter informed Anne:

In order to create a proper provision for you, the Duchess has a cousin, the Reverend and Honourable Septimus Whiley, who is willing to marry you. Upon your acceptance, a provision of ten thousand pounds will be made for you. He is currently the incumbent of Munge Parva, near Stilbury Castle, with a stipend of six hundred pounds a year. He should be a highly suitable husband for you, as his tastes are literary and his habits scholarly. He has been for the past ten years engaged on a learned commentary on the Epistle to the Galatians, and will be glad to have an amanuensis to copy out his manuscript in a fair hand, and prepare an Index.

In addition, on the demise of Mr Bennet, Mr and Mrs Collins will vacate the living of Hunsford, by previous arrangement with me, and remove to Longbourn. At that time I shall present the living to Mr Whiley,