The Companion Page 5

  Elizabeth’s walks were, despite the agreement arrived on Elizabeth’s first day at Rosings, a constant source of contention. Though she attempted to time them based on Miss de Bourgh’s schedule, she could never leave the estate without Lady Catherine making some comment concerning Elizabeth’s leaving, usually to her detriment. Lady Catherine did not keep the same hours as her daughter—she was awake much earlier in the morning and never napped in the afternoon, so she was often on hand when Elizabeth was leaving and rarely allowed her to go without objection.

  “Did you not walk out this morning?” asked Lady Catherine some four days after Elizabeth’s arrival.

  “I did, but as I left late, I confined myself to the back gardens,” replied Elizabeth. “This afternoon I will take the path leading toward the pond. I will be back before Miss de Bourgh awakens.”

  “It is unnecessary to walk so often or so far,” declared Lady Catherine. “You will stay in your room occupied in some other, more ladylike activity.”

  Already weary of these constant debates, Elizabeth only curtseyed. “I have had my fill of ladylike pursuits today. I shall return within two hours.”

  And with that, Elizabeth departed, but she was sensible of Lady Catherine’s eyes on her back as she left. The other times Lady Catherine said something about her habits were no less innocuous, but the lady at least kept them to simple statements of displeasure, rather than demands to amend her behavior.

  As time marched on, however, Elizabeth noticed that the lady’s scrutiny appeared to lessen, and though she could always be counted upon to state her opinions with forthrightness, it appeared like she paid less and less attention to Elizabeth the longer Elizabeth was in the house. She did, after all, run the estate, and her time was often much occupied in its management. There was much for her to do, and after a time she turned herself more to the attention of those things, rather than watching Elizabeth every moment of the day.

  It happened nearly a week later that the Collinses were invited to dinner at Rosings again, and though Elizabeth had visited Charlotte on several occasions, her time was always short and she had been required to leave too early. Thus, she was happy to see the friend who had been largely denied her because of this farce.

  “How are you, Eliza?” asked Charlotte as she entered the room.

  “I am well,” replied Elizabeth, careful to keep her voice quiet in response. “There are vexations, as I am certain you know, but it is nothing insurmountable.”

  “Come and join the rest of us,” said Lady Catherine, her voice ringing out over those assembled. “I know you are great friends, but it is not polite to stand and talk with each other and not greet the rest of the company.”

  “Of course, Lady Catherine,” said Charlotte with aplomb. “You have my apologies. Of course, I am happy to see you and Miss de Bourgh too.”

  Lady Catherine huffed and changed the subject. “And how is the parsonage, Mrs. Collins? Have you followed my instructions concerning your purchase of beef this past week?”

  “Of course, she has,” interjected Mr. Collins. “Mrs. Collins would never dare to defy your most excellent instructions.”

  The look Lady Catherine gave Mr. Collins promised her displeasure should he continue to speak, and he fell silent immediately. Once she was assured of his compliance, she turned to Charlotte again, one eyebrow raised.

  “Yes, Lady Catherine, I have,” replied Charlotte, and even Elizabeth, who knew her friend quite well, could not detect Charlotte’s feelings on being so directed concerning the management of her own house. “As always, your suggestions were correct. I thank you.”

  Though Mr. Collins appeared as if he might pass out when his wife used the term “suggestion,” Lady Catherine only preened and nodded.

  “I knew how it would be. I have managed Rosings for many years, so I am well acquainted with all these things. When one understands how many mouths one must feed, and how much they are likely to eat, given their relative sizes and genders, the rest is simple mathematics.”

  “Indeed, I think you may be correct,” replied Charlotte. “I believe I have come to understand your method, your ladyship. I will be certain to use it in the future, though I will, of course, also rely on your advice at all times.”

  The two women continued to speak, and Lady Catherine inquired into every minute detail of Charlotte’s life, sometimes inquiring into things which Elizabeth thought would be best avoided. But Charlotte, showing a composure that Elizabeth did not know she would have been able to duplicate, answered all the lady’s questions quickly and concisely, and with no hint of impatience or frustration at Lady Catherine’s impertinence. In that moment, Elizabeth knew she had made the correct decision when she had refused Mr. Collins’s suit—she could never imagine herself suited to being the man’s wife, it was true, but the real disadvantage would be Mr. Collins’s reliance on Lady Catherine and the woman’s own insistence on her commands being obeyed. Elizabeth could not have endured it as Charlotte did.

  While the two ladies were thus engaged, Elizabeth noted that Mr. Collins was watching her, and when he realized she had noticed, he turned his attention to her.

  “You have been staying with Lady Catherine for almost a week now, Cousin. I trust you are sensible of the compliment she has paid you and have striven to pay Miss de Bourgh the utmost in civility and deference?”

  The thought of what Mr. Collins would say if he was aware of the arguments she had engaged in with Lady Catherine almost set Elizabeth to laughing. As it was, she managed to hold her countenance and reply to the man in a manner he would not—she hoped—find offensive.

  “I believe I have settled in to life at Rosings, sir. Lady Catherine has been generous, and assisting Miss de Bourgh is no trouble at all.”

  For the first time in Elizabeth’s acquaintance with Mr. Collins, she was given the impression that he was aware that she had not truly answered his question. It was perspicacious of him—and most disconcerting—as she had always felt like she could speak as she would, confident that he would either misunderstand or interpret her words in whichever way benefited his own perception. Neither seemed to be the case here.

  “I am happy you have found yourself at home,” replied Mr. Collins after a moment’s pause. “Indeed, I can imagine no other outcome, for I am certain that Lady Catherine is the soul of generosity, and one could never feel unwelcome at Rosings.

  “However, I would like to know something more of your sojourn here, for I have a vested interest in your success as Miss de Bourgh’s companion.”

  “A vested interest?” asked Elizabeth, though she knew very well what he meant.

  “The fact that I am Lady Catherine’s parson and you are my cousin,” was his even reply. “Lady Catherine is a woman of high ideals and position in society, and though I would never suspect my own cousin of treating her with anything but her due, I must be certain of it.”

  “Then you may rest easy, Mr. Collins,” said Elizabeth, forcing herself to reply with rationality rather than abusing him for his stupidity, which she sorely wished to do. “I would never treat anyone with anything but respect, and certainly not a woman at whose house I am a guest.”

  “Yes, that is it!” replied Mr. Collins. He was sensible of Lady Catherine’s sudden glance in his direction and lowered his voice. “Respect is the word I wished to use. How astute of you to have thought of it.

  “But you must acknowledge, Cousin,” continued he, “that Lady Catherine is deserving of a special brand of respect, one which not only considers the admiration for one’s acquaintance, but also the deference and reverence due to one of an exalted sphere.”

  “I believe your point is well made, sir,” said Elizabeth. In the end, it was better to simply agree and change the subject. “You need have no concerns on that score. I pay Lady Catherine every deference proper to one of her station.”

  Saying that, Elizabeth turned pointedly and began to speak with Maria, asking after her
doings these past few days. Within moments the girl was happily chatting away, regaling Elizabeth with tales of her doings. She was certainly not as loud or loquacious as Lydia, but there was a reason why she was so close to Elizabeth’s youngest sisters. On her other side, Elizabeth noted that Mr. Collins remained silent, but she could almost feel the heat of his study of her. She decided she did not care—she was not about to bow and scrape before Lady Catherine as he did. The lady could accept her how she was or not at all. It made no difference to Elizabeth.

  Soon after the company was called in to dinner, and they entered and sat in their usual seats. This time, however, Elizabeth was situated beside Miss de Bourgh, though the Collinses were where they would normally sit. If Elizabeth had not just had a conversation with Mr. Collins concerning the respect he thought she deserved, Elizabeth would still have noted how much he used the word. And every time he said it, his eyes would dart to her to see if she had taken note of it. Needless to say, Elizabeth would not give him that satisfaction.

  It was petty, perhaps. Elizabeth was aware that his motives were, even more than his continuing veneration for his patroness, the desire that Elizabeth’s behavior not affect his standing with Lady Catherine. In that she could not blame him, for it was a legitimate concern. In this instance, though it had been possible that Elizabeth might fall out of favor with the lady given her unwillingness to bow to the woman’s unreasonable demands, she thought they had settled into a routine, and the possibility of that had diminished accordingly.

  “Yes, yes, Mr. Collins,” said Lady Catherine, after Mr. Collins said the word for seemingly the one hundredth time, “I understand you hold me in respect, and I thank you for it. Now, however, I would like to turn your attention to the parish, for we have not spoken of any concerns there recently.”

  “Of course, Lady Catherine,” said Mr. Collins. “I do have a few matters to bring to your attention.”

  The relief Elizabeth felt on hearing the conversation thus directed to other subjects could hardly be described. For the rest of dinner and later when they retired to the music room, Lady Catherine’s concentration was fully on Mr. Collins, and his was on his recitation. Elizabeth had not the slightest notion of what they discussed, but as the man was not directing his considerable capacity for the ridiculous at her, Elizabeth was well pleased. She followed Lady Catherine’s peremptory command that she play for them and stayed at the pianoforte for the rest of the evening. The only circumstance she regretted was her inability to speak with Charlotte.

  At least, it continued in this way until it was almost time for those residing at the parsonage to leave. Knowing the time was approaching, Elizabeth left the pianoforte and inquired of Miss de Bourgh if she required anything, to which the woman responded with a short negative, allowing Elizabeth to find a seat not far from Charlotte. Her friend took the opportunity which arose to speak with Elizabeth.

  “Is Rosings all you thought it would be?”

  “All that and more,” replied Elizabeth. They spoke softly to avoid any unwanted attention.

  “I hope you are controlling your temper, Elizabeth. I know when you get your back up it can be quite a sight to see.”

  “You have no need to worry,” replied Elizabeth. “Lady Catherine has not managed to shatter my composure yet, so I am certain I am quite safe.”

  Charlotte shook her head and laughed. “I am not worried for their sakes. I am worried for yours. But I am happy to hear that your stay here has at least been tolerable.”

  “Indeed, it has. There is nothing of which I wish to complain.”

  Mr. Collins rose at that moment and beckoned to his wife and sister-in-law, making his flowery obeisance to Lady Catherine as was his custom. A few more moments of his words and he was finally ready to depart, but unfortunately for Elizabeth’s composure, he was not able to leave without one final admonishment.

  “I trust you understand your role here, Cousin, and the respect you must pay to her ladyship. I do not need to bring it up again?”

  Though she felt she might scream if the man used the word once more, Elizabeth only raised her chin and looked him in the eye. “I am quite sensible of my position, sir. As I told you before, there is no need for you to concern yourself.”

  Mr. Collins watched her for several moments, seeming to weigh her response, before he broke into a wide grin. “Excellent. I knew I could trust you, Cousin. I hope you rest well this evening, for I know your devotion to Miss de Bourgh has already grown to astonishing depths.”

  And with those final silly words, he led his party out of the room. As Charlotte left, Elizabeth caught her eye and gave her an expressive grin, which Charlotte returned with a roll of her eyes. Then they were gone.

  “I believe I shall retire as well,” said Lady Catherine the moment the visitors were gone. “I shall have a busy day tomorrow, so you need not look for me in the morning.”

  “Very well, Mother,” replied Miss de Bourgh.

  “Sleep well, Lady Catherine,” added Elizabeth.

  The lady only thanked her and quit the room, leaving Elizabeth watching after her, bemused at the way she had been summarily dismissed with nary an admonishment about how she should care for Anne, or anything else she usually found so important.

  “If you do not mind,” said Elizabeth, turning to Miss de Bourgh, “I believe I shall retire as well.”

  For a moment, the woman made no response. Then she seemed to come to some decision and said: “Actually, Miss Bennet, I believe I would like to speak with you for a few moments. Will you indulge me?”

  Intrigued, for Miss de Bourgh speaking even this much was far from normal, Elizabeth indicated her willingness and sat down again on the sofa. Miss de Bourgh’s response was destined to surprise her once again.

  “What I wish to say is private between us. Shall we not retire to my room?”

  “Certainly,” replied Elizabeth, by now quite curious.

  Miss de Bourgh rose and led her out into the hall. As she walked a little behind the other woman, Elizabeth noted how Miss de Bourgh’s back appeared straighter, as if she had acquired a hint of confidence. She could not make the other woman out at all; this whole episode was so different from what Elizabeth had ever witnessed from her as to render her previous observations meaningless.

  When they had arrived at Miss de Bourgh’s room and entered therein, Miss de Bourgh greeted her maid with a nod and dismissed her. “You may return in one hour to assist me in retiring.”

  “Of course, Mistress,” said the maid—a girl named Laura. She then curtseyed and left the room.

  When she had gone, Miss de Bourgh indicated a nearby sofa and sat without waiting for Elizabeth to join her. Elizabeth did so with alacrity, still wondering what was happening. She did not have long to wait.

  “I am certain you are curious, Miss Bennet, but if you will indulge me for a moment, all will be revealed. In fact, I wished to speak with you without my mother present, for she would not approve. But it is now time that you should know that it was I who convinced my mother to solicit your assistance. You are acting as my companion because I insisted upon it.”

  Chapter V

  The season in London was not a time Fitzwilliam Darcy could enjoy with any contentment. At its best, London was a pit of wolves. High London society was immoral and objectionable, with rakes aplenty, others who basked in their own superiority and looked down on the rest, where marriages were bartered and bought, and marriage vows thrown aside just as quickly. Darcy had never enjoyed it here—not when he had been nothing more than the heir of a large estate, and certainly not since he had become that estate’s master.

  Worse still were the young ladies and their mothers, huntresses on the prowl for any unfortunate man unwary enough to have fallen into their clutches. Already during that season, Darcy had foiled two attempted compromises, and he had no doubt that more would be forthcoming. Why a woman would entrap a man into marriage, he could not comprehend. Darcy was
not a man to take out his frustrations on a woman, but if a woman did entrap him, she could not know his temperament in advance. For all any of them knew, he might turn out to be a beater of women. The trappings of wealth would be cold comfort in such a situation.

  But much as Darcy loathed society, its insincerity, its grasping, artful denizens, the latest letter from Lady Catherine reminded him that even London would be preferable to Rosings this year. And he was certain his cousin would agree.

  “So, what does the old bat have to say this time?” asked Fitzwilliam. He had come to Darcy’s townhouse at Darcy’s request, and as usual, he sat on a chair in front of Darcy’s desk, a glass of port in hand and a foot resting on the polished wood between them. Darcy had seen this exact pose so many times that he had come to expect it—he thought his cousin had done it originally to annoy him, but by now it was nothing more than force of habit, and Darcy ignored it.

  “The usual,” replied Darcy, taking a sip of his own drink. “She speaks of our coming with breathless anticipation, thanks me for my assistance with the estate, and refers to my upcoming nuptials.”

  “Nothing out of the ordinary, then,” replied Fitzwilliam.

  “Except that she has gone past mere innuendo and entered into the realm of openly stating that this must be the year I finally fulfil my late mother’s wishes and offer for her daughter.”

  Fitzwilliam only laughed. “Do not say you did not expect this. Last year when we visited, she was hardly less overt than you say she is in her letter. It should not be a surprise.”

  “It is not.” Darcy did not mean to be so short, but his aunt’s particular brand of officiousness was trying, and as Darcy knew Fitzwilliam felt the same way, he would not take offense. “But I find I am less willing to subject myself to it this year.”

  “Oh?” asked Fitzwilliam, his eyes gleaming with suppressed mirth.

  “Yes. In fact, a matter of business has arisen which will necessitate my presence in London this year. It is unfortunate, but I will not be able to travel to Kent.”