Mr. Darcy's Great Escape (3 page)

“Which he did; two.”

“I'm getting to that. So, Rosings would of course pass to him upon his father's death, which it did, but Uncle Matlock let it to Sir Lewis de Bourgh for a pittance, because his sister Catherine wanted to live in her old family lodgings instead of the de Bourgh family estate. But until the day Lord Matlock died, he was the technical owner of Rosings. When he died, six years ago, Rosings passed to his son Michael. My uncle made his son promise to allow Aunt Catherine to remain in her home as long as she lived, but he is now dying in India. His wife died in childbirth along with the child, so he has no heir.

“But remember what I said about age of the three children. Now that the firstborn sons of the Fitzwilliam line have all been eliminated, it passes to the next person in line, the firstborn son of the firstborn daughter. I am the firstborn son of the firstborn daughter, as my mother Anne was older than Aunt Catherine. So, it passes to me, and should I die, to Geoffrey, and should he die with no heirs,
then
to poor Richard, the second born and forever passed over.”

“Can you not—can you not break the entail and not receive Rosings?”

He shook his head. “An entail can only be broken with a father and son in agreement. And since my father is dead, I must wait until Geoffrey is of age to formally break the entail and forfeit the Darcy claim to Rosings. And, I imagine, numerous other holdings connected to Rosings.” Darcy frowned. “But it still makes no sense. Unless Aunt Catherine has lost what little sense she has, she realizes I have no interest in Rosings, as I have told her on numerous occasions, and
clearly
I will happily rent it to the Fitzwilliams for little or no money until I can break the entail in eleven years.” He lay back on the bed. “She has some other scheme here. She will make some wild request of me.”

“Perhaps we are assuming too much. First, the earl is not actually dead, despite what you all assume. He may well recover. Second, as you said, if she is not unknowing of your own intentions, she may just wish to confirm them. Or she may be unknowing of your current intentions and want to know them. You have not spoken to her for nine years.”

“Perhaps,” he said. “But I think not. No matter. She would hardly drag us out here without revealing it all as dramatically as she can.”

“In that, my dear, I believe you may be right.”

***

In their sitting room, Nurse brought Geoffrey and Anne forward for presentation.

“Do we not have the most wonderful children?” Elizabeth said, tugging on the sleeve of her very tense husband. “Anne, darling, the dress looks very beautiful on you.”

“Itches,” Anne Darcy said, scratching her chest. Her pink dress did indeed have more lace than she was used to.

“I can't breathe,” Geoffrey said, tugging on his cravat.

“Then hold your breath,” Darcy suggested, “and be very polite to your aunt.”

“
You're
not polite to our aunt!”

“Son,” Darcy said, bending down on one knee to face his seven-year-old, “remember what I said about public and private talk?”

“No.”

“Hopeless.” Darcy sighed, patted his son on the head, and rose to his feet to see Grégoire emerging from his chambers, dressed in the only outfit he owned, his worn wool robes. “Hopeless lots, all of you.”

“Lots!” Anne shouted, waving her arms above her head. Anne Darcy seemed to thoroughly enjoy her power of speech, even when she lacked understanding.

“I fear Aunt Catherine will be displeased,” Darcy whispered to his wife, though it didn't sound as if he had a lot of fear.

“Lady Catherine has been displeased with me since the moment I met her, is displeased with you and your choice in marriage, and is displeased with Georgiana's delay in choosing a husband. I hardly expect her to act so contrary in her character as to not extend it to the rest of the family.”

He smiled and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Well,” he said to the rest of them, “shall we go and greet Lady Catherine?”

The Devil and the Saint

Lady Catherine de Bourgh, now of some two and seventy years, had not lost her composure with age. True, the change in her physical appearance was noticeable. She had lost what remained of the color in her hair. It was obvious (though inappropriate to mention) that she had lost weight, making her appearance all the more skeletal. If anything, it added a certain fright factor to her appearance, to be perfectly plain about it.

Rosings itself had not changed. If anything, it was decayed with time, but still mostly as it had been during Elizabeth's visit to Kent to see her friend Charlotte nine years prior, and Elizabeth realized she was as much a stranger in it now as she had been then. The difference now was Darcy was not standing by her side as an unpleasant acquaintance intruding on her visit but as her loyal husband. This was a welcome relief when she was once again presented to the mistress of Rosings. “Lady Catherine.”

Lady Catherine barely acknowledged her as the children were brought forward. If there was anything the Darcy children did understand, it was how to act in front of “proper” people, it being totally different from how they were usually permitted to behave. Geoffrey bowed politely and said, “Lady Catherine,” without squirming or making a silly face. His sister did not manage to get the name out, but she did curtsey.

“Come here,” said Catherine, holding out a well-bejeweled hand to the little Miss Darcy. “You do not look much like my sister or my daughter. Are those blond streaks in her hair from the sun?”

“They are, Aunt Catherine,” Darcy said.

“A young lady has little proper place outdoors, but surely you are aware of that, Fitzwilliam,” Catherine said. “I will assume that she will mature when she begins her education. Have you arranged for her tutors?”

“We have, your ladyship,” Elizabeth said. “But she is very young yet.”

“And Master Geoffrey. Have you learned your letters?”

“I have,” he said. “I can even write better than Father!”

Elizabeth had to stifle her laughter as Darcy gave her a cold stare.

“Of that I have no doubt,” said Lady Catherine. “You children will take your suppers now. Your parents and I have much to discuss.”

Never had Elizabeth seen her children so happy to leave a room. They bowed quickly and scurried out, chasing after the servant who was leading them. Their parents, however, would not have such relief. Her husband, showing no hesitancy, took the lead, “Lady Catherine, allow me to introduce you to my brother, Brother Grégoire of the Order of Saint Benedict.”

Grégoire bowed humbly, “Your ladyship.”

“How is Austria, Mr.
Grégoire
?” she said. “You will excuse me, but we are in a civilized country now.”

“You may call me whatever you wish, your ladyship.”

“You are French, are you not? By birth?”

“Yes, your ladyship.”

“From Mont Claire, am I correct?”

He bowed slightly again. “You are very knowledgeable, your ladyship.”

“Your mother was from Mont Claire,” she said. “I remember her very well.”

Grégoire's previous composure could not be described as cool, but more of his usual calm, unshakable humility. He did seem rattled by the mention of his late mother, though. “Madam?”

“I was attending my sister during her confinement, so it hardly went unnoticed. Though you do favor your father in appearance.”

While it was fairly public knowledge in Derbyshire that Master Darcy had a bastard brother that he had embraced as though a legitimate one, the details were obscured as much as possible. Darcy interrupted the conversation. “Aunt Catherine, are you implying that you knew about the dismissal during my mother's confinement with Georgiana?”

“Of course I did! What, do you think I was blind? I am only surprised that they hid it so successfully from you, Fitzwilliam. Too much time
playing outside
.” She glanced at their shocked expressions, but that only raised her apparent indignation. “Why are you all so surprised? Did you not think that Mr. Darcy would do everything in his power to cover up his scandalous affairs? Even if the grief of it killed my sister?”

“You knew?” Darcy said. “All these years, you knew I had a brother?”

“I knew about every servant girl that was dismissed! I knew about both your brothers, Fitzwilliam, but remember that you were to marry Anne, and I would not have tolerated you behaving in such a manner as your father!” She didn't give Darcy time to respond before turning on Grégoire. “You at least had the decency to shut yourself up in a monastery.”

“Lady Catherine!”

“For once in your life, be quiet, Miss Bennet!” Catherine said. “I am trying to speak to an actual relation, no matter how disreputable!”

“Elizabeth Darcy is my wife and therefore your niece, Lady Catherine,” Darcy said in a chilling voice, “and a very respectable relation, as is my brother. He is a man of the church!” He stepped forward. “If your only intention in this invitation, knowing full well who my brother is, was to insult all of us, then we will take our leave.”

And of course, there was no doubt in anyone's mind that Darcy would make good on his threat. Only Grégoire standing in his way prevented his exit. “Please, don't.”

“I cannot stand by while—”

“You will admit that her ladyship's motives in disguising the circumstances of my birth were to guard you from sin,” he said. “She said it herself.”

Darcy looked at Elizabeth in wonder as to why his brother was pleading with him in Lady Catherine's defense, but she could only shrug in reply. “She has also insulted you grievously.”

“Fitzwilliam!”

“I am not ashamed of my heritage,” Grégoire said and turned to bow again to his host. “Lady Catherine, I am sorry that you lost your sister, and that my mother brought both you and Lady Anne distress in her final days, but I cannot undo my own existence, nor do I wish to. But please accept my apologies on my mother's behalf for your grief, as it obviously still concerns you.”

The quiet threatened to overwhelm them all. Darcy and Lady Catherine were connected not only by blood but also by a frustrating obstinacy, which could be volatile when used on each other. So dangerous was the air between them that neither Elizabeth nor Grégoire dared to break the silence.

“Brother Grégoire,” Lady Catherine said, setting her hands on her lap, “did you know that Rosings was an abbey before the dissolution of the monasteries?”

“I—I did have my suspicions.”

“Suspicions?”

“The façade behind you,” he said, pointing to the high part of the wall. “It has been painted over, and false pillars have been added, but I do believe that was once the back wall of a personal chapel, perhaps of an abbot, judging from the size of the room.”

“I am a very religious woman myself, and a patron of the church. Even when my own family has abandoned me, I have always found solace in religion, though our religion is quite different from yours.”

“Not so different, perhaps,” he said.

“I am the patron of our local vicar, who is Mrs. Darcy's cousin and shall be joining us tonight. Perhaps you will find some common ground to converse upon.”

He said gratefully, “I would be honored.”

***

The gathering for dinner was short. Elizabeth was overjoyed when the Collinses arrived, as she had not seen Charlotte since early in her marriage, but this was not the moment for renewing a friendship. The atmosphere was too formal, and so they greeted each other warmly, exchanged some information about their children (Charlotte had three as well), and promised to converse the next morn. The Fitzwilliams were also in attendance; only Georgiana, still in Town for the Season, was absent (or to use Darcy's terminology, “excused”) from the visitation. It made for a very long table and many sudden rulings from Lady Catherine that seats should be changed to the point where everyone was quite confused and relieved when they finally settled down and she seemed satisfied.

“Mr. Bellamont,” Lady Catherine said loudly and sharply to Grégoire, more than was necessary for her voice to reach his end of the table, “it may be different in the wilds of Austria, but in England it is considered rude not to take the food offered you.” Very little escaped her notice, and her eagle eyes did notice that Grégoire had partaken of nothing but bread.

Elizabeth wished she could comfort Darcy, who was probably seething at the other end of the table, but husband and wife did not sit together, and she was at a loss.

“My apologies, your ladyship,” Grégoire said, not at all bothered by her accusation, “but your food is too refined for my poor monk's stomach.”

Elizabeth looked down at her bowl. The soup was rich and quite spicy, and Grégoire had a very simple diet—and, apparently, no shame in admitting it. He had eaten privately before dinner. He rarely had anything of substance after what she understood was Vespers.

Surprisingly, Lady Catherine did not counter, but changed the subject entirely. “Mrs. Darcy, I trust you have secured a governess for your children?”

“No, not yet, Lady Catherine.”

“Then you must immediately. I do not see why this has gone to lapse. Perhaps because your mother did not employ one, but my grandnephew cannot be as rowdy as your sisters.”

Now it was Elizabeth's turn to seethe. “I would hardly describe my sisters as ‘rowdy,' your ladyship. Surely a woman of your superior understanding knows that gossip and reports are often only focused on the most
extreme
examples of behavior and not the daily lives of respectful people. The gossip papers would then be quite boring.”

“You read such trash, Mrs. Darcy?”

“I do not,” Elizabeth said in all honesty.

“Thank goodness for that at least!” Lady Catherine said. Elizabeth looked over at her husband and observed that his hands were shaking a little on the table as he spooned his own soup. She could only imagine the violent thoughts going through his head and wondered how long his nerves would endure. “Pemberley's library would be tainted with such literature.”

“Pemberley's library is quite well,” Darcy said. “In fact, my wife has made many useful suggestions for additions to it.”

“While it is admirable to take care of your own house, nephew, you must also keep your house
hold
,” Lady Catherine said, easily moving to attack apparently every Darcy at the table. “Why have you not employed a governess? Geoffrey is seven years old, is he not?”

“I did not have a governess when I was seven, Aunt Catherine,” Darcy said. “My mother and father instructed me personally until I was ten.”

Even implying an insult to her sister's behavior was something Lady Catherine would not stand for, let alone do herself. Darcy sneaked a look at Elizabeth, who smiled.

Lady Catherine retreated and did not pester Darcy again for some time, though she did lament at length the poor state of education and how many young men she found to be uneducated (to which Elizabeth sorely resisted inquiring as to why Lady Catherine knew so many young men) and in need of proper instruction. She briefly battered Charlotte Collins with questions about how she was raising her daughters, to which Mrs. Collins had the good sense to smile and look grateful for the wisdom imparted to her so freely. Obviously, she was an expert at it, but she let her husband do the thanking.

The main courses were served, and again, Grégoire did not partake. Elizabeth suspected that even if he were so inclined to break his monastic habits, his stomach truly would be unprepared for the finely flavored meats and poultry from Lady Catherine's kitchen.

“Enough with this Papist nonsense,” Lady Catherine finally said. “Mr. Bellamont, I implore you to eat. It is ill-advised for a person not to have a proper diet, even for spiritual reasons.”

Mr. Collins added, “As our Lord and Savior said, ‘Know ye not that ye are the temple of God, and that the Spirit of God dwelleth in you?'” He had not shown any previous animosity to Grégoire—he was obviously more interested in supporting Lady Catherine.

“Paul,” Grégoire said quietly in response.

“What?” Lady Catherine said. “Speak up, Mr. Bellamont!”

“It was Saint Paul who said it. In his letters to the Corinthians,” Grégoire said with his head bowed, but Elizabeth detected a small smile sneaking into his expression. “Forgive me. I am not a wise man, but of this, I am fairly sure.”

“Mr. Collins is a vicar of the church, Mr. Bellamont. Surely he knows of what he speaks. We read the Bible regularly here, and in plain English so that even
the masses
can understand.”

“Your ladyship is right,” Mr. Collins said. “I am reminded of Our Lord's saying, ‘And this is the word which by the gospel is preached unto you.'”

Catherine nodded her head in triumph to Grégoire, who hesitated a moment before saying, “Peter.”

“What?”

“That was Saint Peter, Minister Collins, in his first letters.”

Elizabeth had to cover her mouth to hide her laughter.

“Maybe,” Darcy said, “we should check the Good Book.”

Mr. Collins's face flushed. “That is not necessary.”

“No,” Grégoire said, almost in support of the flustered vicar across from him, “‘For the wisdom of this world is foolishness with God.' I do not presume to be correct.” He played with his unused utensils for a moment before adding, “Saint Paul.”

Attempting to salvage the argument, Lady Catherine interjected, “I presume that a man who has separated himself from society has time to study the Good Book to an extent that a man with any affairs does not. Tell me, does your order spend the whole day in the chapel?”

“No, your ladyship, Saint Benedict believed that work is a form of prayer.”