One Thread Pulled: The Dance With Mr. Darcy (54 page)

The colonel's eyebrows raised in disgust. “There was nothing chaste in what you were about.”

Mr. Collins licked his lips nervously and blinked rapidly, his eyes darting about the room, looking everywhere except directly at the colonel. “You misunderstand. My feelings for my fair cousin are natural and just. When we are married, all this will be forgotten.”

“
What
 
will be forgotten?” The colonel leaned forward and placed his hands on the armrests of the chair where Mr. Collins sat. Mr. Bingley stood behind the colonel, looking over Colonel Fitzwilliam's shoulder at the now-quivering parson. “Have you, a man of the cloth, a man who has taken orders in the Church of England, a man who represents our Lord and Master in the ministry—have you compromised Miss Elizabeth Bennet today?

“N-n-n-n-n-no,” Collins stammered.

“Did she accept your proposal of marriage?” the colonel pressed.

“I-I-I t-t-told you before, you interrupted us before she c-c-could do so.” Mr. Collins replied belligerently.

“Did she, in point of fact, refuse your offer, Mr. Collins?” The colonel's face was mere inches from Collins.

At this question, the simpering parson sat bolt upright. He squared his shoulders and looked directly into the face of his challenger. “I do not owe you answers, Colonel. You are not her family, although I am. You have no connection whatsoever to this woman, while I am presently residing in her family home at the invitation of her excellent parents.”

“Shall we summon my
 
aunt,
 
Mr. Collins? Perhaps you would like to explain the events of your failed proposal to
 
her
.”

“That will not be necessary.” Mr. Bingley spoke. “You may not owe explanations or answers to the colonel, but you do owe them to me. This is my house, Mr. Collins, and you have intruded upon it, in the guise of family, and attempted to compromise a young woman who is currently defenseless and under
 
my
 
protection.”

The colonel was astonished at the transformation in Mr. Bingley. He was most certainly angry, and it was evident that this was not an emotion frequently entertained by his amiable host. Bingley began to pace as he spoke, as though a great force had built up within him.

“Did she refuse you?” Bingley stopped pacing and stared directly into Collins' face, his tone making clear that he would not tolerate an evasive answer.

“Why, yes, in the beginning.” Collins replied nervously. “But females are notoriously fickle. I am certain that she was soon to decide in my favor.”

“On what grounds do you base this conclusion?” Bingley asked through gritted teeth.

To this question, Mr. Collins made no reply but sat despondently upon the chair, uncharacteristically silent. At length, Mr. Bingley resumed speaking.

“Mr. Collins, I never expected to be placed in this position, but you leave me no choice. You will return to your carriage and await the rest of your party from without the house. You shall never be granted entrance into my home again.” A frowning Mr. Bingley then summoned two footmen to escort Mr. Collins out of Netherfield House.

When he was gone, Mr. Bingley turned to the colonel and said with a sigh, “I wish I could do the same to my sister.”

The colonel laughed. “Let us forget Mr. Collins
 
and
 
your sister for the moment. I believe we need to notify your other guests that their companion awaits them in the carriage.”

“Yes.” Bingley smiled. “I must give Mr. Collins some credit however. He most determinedly attempted that which I have not found the courage to do. I am not to be outdone by a man such as he. Today will be a good day after all.”

Chapter Forty-Three

What Comes With the Tide

M
r. Bingley had thrown back another glass of port to improve his resolve on several fronts and to calm the unusual racing of his heart and strange quivering of his limbs. These symptoms combined with a curious agitation that left him with the unusual desire to strike something.

He returned to the sitting room, eager to dispatch Mrs. Bennet and the three younger Miss Bennets back to Longbourn with their reprobate cousin. He did not, however, expect to find Caroline and Lady Catherine together with the Bennets in the sitting room. Jane, he rightly assumed, was in the bedchamber with Elizabeth.

“Mrs. Bennet,” Lady Catherine was saying coldly, “In good faith I encouraged Mr. Collins to marry one of your daughters and even came to Hertfordshire myself to visit with them, for a woman is able to discern more of another woman in a day than a man can perceive in a month. For this trouble, I have been heartily disappointed in his prospects of choosing a wife from your progeny. Your eldest daughter smiles too much but speaks too little. Anyone can see that she is beautiful, but nothing else of her stands out at all. As for your second eldest, Miss Elizabeth, her opinions are altogether too strong for one so young. This does not recommend her as a suitable wife for anyone at all. You must rein her in, or she will most certainly end a spinster. Your third,” Lady Catherine nodded toward Mary across the room, “well, I cannot remember her name—but she is a plain, insipid child of no accomplishment whatsoever. She will take care of you when you are old; that is the best you can hope for with that one. Your two youngest are perhaps the worst of your ridiculous offspring. They are silly and unrefined—wholly unsuitable for the dignified attitude the wife of Mr. Collins must own, although they might entrap one of those local officers with their flirtatious manners. I am ashamed of you, madam, for having raised five such daughters. You should have taken better care of their education. I cannot, in good conscience, approve Mr. Collins’ offering for any of them. I fear that our trip to Hertfordshire has been in vain.”

Caroline stood behind Lady Catherine, her posture unconsciously mimicking the aristocrat. Her lips were pressed together, and she nodded her head in agreement with every utterance.

Mrs. Bennet's eyes were wide with astonishment at being spoken to in such a manner. She made a deep courtesy and attempted a rebuttal. “Your Ladyship....”

Lady Catherine's hand flipped into the air to cut her off. “Mrs. Bennet, do not add excuses to your shame. Your daughters are now all but grown. They are past the age where you may reclaim them. Now, I must speak to your daughter Elizabeth before I quit the county. Please take me to her, for I must have an audience with her this moment. I insist.”

Mr. Bingley's symptoms flared once more, for having heard Lady Catherine's speech toward Jane's mother, and knowing what she had previously said to Caroline, he was certain that Darcy's aunt was intent on verbally abusing the fevered sister of his beloved Jane, and very possibly Jane herself.

“Lady Catherine,” Bingley stepped into the room and spoke with an amiability he did not feel. “I understand from Colonel Fitzwilliam that you will be departing Netherfield to return to London within a few hours. May I say what a great honor it has been to have entertained you as our guest? We are most obliged to have enjoyed your distinguished presence among us, most particularly at the ball. You and your lovely daughter were a most welcome addition to the festivities.” He smiled at her charmingly. “I am informed, Lady Catherine, that you might be willing to make some recommendations on additions to my library, which I am most anxious to improve.”

Caroline, who had entertained visions of Lady Catherine dressing Elizabeth Bennet down, stamped her foot slightly as she said, “Charles, Lady Catherine has requested an audience with Miss Eliza. Perhaps she could lend you her literary advice afterwards.”

Bingley, whose temper was back to an even keel, was determined not to allow it. “Oh yes.” He smiled graciously at Lady Catherine. “Unfortunately, Mr. Jones administered a sedative to Miss Elizabeth barely an hour ago. I fear that she is not awake to receive visitors at present and will not rouse for several hours. I am certain she will be most pleased when I relate your desire to see her, no doubt to wish her well.” He bowed to Lady Catherine and swept his hand toward the door. “If you will follow me, I am most eager that you take the opportunity to inspect the library now.”

Lady Catherine narrowed her eyes and frowned. She looked at the closed door of the bedchamber, clearly displeased. “Your apothecary is mistaken in his approach. Sedation is an unwise course for one who is ill. It is far better to allow a natural state of rest in these cases. You will tell him this when he returns, of course.”

“But, of course.” Bingley repeated with a nod and a smile.

Her frown deepened, and she turned back to face Mrs. Bennet. “You would do well to teach your daughters not to aspire to a marriage beyond the sphere they were born to. I believe that you, Mrs. Bennet, are ample proof of this principle should they require an illustration of the foolishness of such a course. It is a pity their mother was not gentle-born. They might have turned out better.”

“Lady Catherine.” Bingley stood holding the door open for her, and with a sniff, she raised her chin up and swept out of the room. Bingley turned to Mrs. Bennet and quietly said, “Please accept my humble apologies, madam.” He nodded to her kindly. “I have anticipated that Miss Elizabeth would be indisposed to visitors, and have sent Mr. Collins to await you in the carriage. I hope to call at Longbourn myself in but a few hours to speak to Mr. Bennet on a matter of some delicacy. I depend on your graciousness to advise him to expect me.”

“Oh, yes, Mr. Bingley, I am sure he will be happy to oblige you,” Mrs. Bennet said delightedly. “Come along, girls.” She signaled to her daughters. “We will see ourselves out.”

~*~

Darcy prowled like a panther in his study at Darcy House, restless and brooding.
Something is wrong
. Like a thunderstorm, the premonition swept over him relentlessly, yet there were so many troubles he was attending to that he could not with any degree of certainty identify the source of his disturbed feelings. At least he knew that Georgiana was well and happily anticipating her escape to the country with her brother. It was a relief to know this much, at least.

Of Wickham, he had received no news yet, but a dozen hired men were scattered through the city looking for information or for sign of him. Georgiana's encounter with him in the park revealed that he was lurking and unquestionably aware of Darcy's presence in town. If he did not locate Wickham, he had no doubt that Wickham would eventually be overwhelmed by his own avarice and contact him directly. Darcy had no patience to wait for it, however.

He had entrusted his cousin and friend to see to the well-being of Elizabeth and was satisfied they would protect her well, but he had left her before she had recovered, and fevers, he well knew, could be unpredictable. “No,” Darcy said under his breath as he shook his head for emphasis, “Elizabeth is strong. It is not Elizabeth.” Yet the recollection of her falling in a dead faint into his arms, of her delirium from the fever, and her uncontrollable shivering when he had lowered her into the water belied his confidence in her strength, and his heart was gripped with worry that he had left her too soon.

Lady Catherine, he hoped, had already quit Netherfield. He wondered for a fleeting moment of humor what scheme Richard had cooked up to dislodge their aunt from Bingley's house, but this delivered him to yet another possibility. Was Anne well? Knowing her constitution, he recognized that nursing Elizabeth had been a serious risk—was his gentle cousin taken ill with the fever? Was this the source of the dark cloud that pressed upon him? Could Anne survive such an illness? Darcy shuddered at the implications and pushed the thought away.

Could something be amiss at Pemberley?
 
He could not shake the oppressive feelings, and he once again rehearsed in his mind every possibility, every situation he was engaged in, every person he loved. When the burden became more than he could endure, for the first time in many years, he prayed. It was while he was on his knees, pleading with his maker for guidance and strength that he heard loud voices. He leapt to his feet as the sound of a fist pounding on the front door further interrupted his solitude. He cracked the door of his study and listened as the butler and footmen questioned whether to disturb Mr. Darcy. He moved to the foyer to investigate, and upon his inquiry, the men stepped aside, revealing the body of a man, in torn, blood-soaked clothing, lying in an oddly twisted heap on the doorstep.