Page 116 of To Love And To Cherish
It was Lady Catherine.
Mrs. Jenkinson hurried Elizabeth into the dressing room, which opened into the personal maid’s small chamber. The companion returned at once to Anne’s bedside, while Elizabeth slipped into a narrow servants’ stair that descended to the service hall, where the faint clatter of pots drifted from the distant kitchen.
A footman directed her to the garden door, and she crossed swiftly to the carriage, her boots sinking into the pea-sized gravel. Darcy did not join her until half an hour later. When at last he stepped up and closed the door behind him, the frown on his brow spoke volumes. The carriage jolted forward, and before they had gone a dozen yards, his frustration broke forth.
“That woman is impossible to work with,” he said with a low, controlled vehemence. “No wonder Louis de Bourgh chose to die rather than endure another year under her roof.”
Elizabeth turned in surprise. “He took his own life?”
Darcy’s expression shifted to contrition. “No, no, I misled you, Elizabeth. He was twenty-five years her senior, fifty-five when they married. He died at seventy-two of heart failure. The physicians warned him to forgo strong drink, but he declared he would rather be dead than live as a milksop.”
Elizabeth wondered, though she did not say it, whether life with Lady Catherine had played its own part in his resolve.
Darcy shook off the digression. “Well, that is neither here nor there. She is furious because we have interfered with this new patented treatment. I shall send word to the local physician about the powder; there may be others in the parish who have purchased it. Mrs. Jenkinson will remain at Anne’s bedside through the night, and if Lady Catherine produces any more of the powder and attempts to compel my cousin to take it, she will fetch Richard at once.
Elizabeth saw the set of his jaw and heard the resolve in his voice.
“She will not be swayed by reason,” he continued. “Thus, we must manage both her bad behavior and Anne’s recovery. I warned her that, should she refuse to cooperate, I would remove her to the dower house for the duration of Anne’s illness. She relented for now, but it will not last; she will work herself into another tantrum, and we shall have to face her again. Poor Richard remains behind to endure her misconduct.”
His words were dry, but the fatigue beneath them was plain. Elizabeth laid her gloved hand over his. “Then we must be grateful he is both patient and loyal to your cousin.”
A fleeting smile touched Darcy’s lips, but the weight upon him did not lift.
Chapter 61: The Sea
Mr. Darcy looked across the breakfast table at his wife with a glint in his eye.
“Elizabeth, would you care for a drive to the sea? We might look in on Anne first, and then be off for the whole of the day, just the two of us. The coast is but nineteen miles distant.”
Elizabeth’s eyes lit. “I should love to walk on the sand, Fitzwilliam, and wet my toes in the water. When we travelled to Scotland, we glimpsed the sea at dusk, but only distantly.”
“Then we shall see it properly now,” he replied, pleased to grant her wish. “We will have the day to ourselves, just as we did on our journey home from Scotland.” He smiled, his voice low with fond remembrance.
The next morning, they took leave of the Bertrams, explaining where they might be found should any emergency arise. Darcy, fastening his greatcoat, remarked, “We must set off before we are caught by some visitor eager to inspect Miss Catherine’s family.”
Elizabeth laughed. “We are to act the truant? That is very well with me, darling.”
They entered the carriage, bringing with them a basket Charlotte had filled with cold meats, hard-boiled eggs, bread, and fruit. As the wheels began to turn, Darcy’s gaze caught hers. His eyes lingered, then dropped to her lips. Leaning forward, he kissed her with a warmth that deepened swiftly. His arms drew her close until she felt the solid strength of his chest against hers.
There had been a time when she had thought him cold; now she marveled at his passionate nature. Without conscious thought, she found herself upon his lap, her arms twined about his neck. His whisper was husky. “Elizabeth… how did I ever live without you?”
The carriage slowed, turning into the drive at Rosings. Darcy’s sigh broke the moment. “Time to pay the piper. Let us see how my cousin fares. Will you wait here, or join me?”
She considered. “What would you have me do?”
“If we encounter my aunt, she will not scruple to insult you. I would shield you from that. I will go up and see Anne; if Richard requires your assistance, I shall send for you. But should Lady Catherine appear and abuse you, return to the carriage at once. Neither of us shall remain under such treatment.”
He pressed a kiss to her forehead, then stepped down and made his way swiftly through the kitchen gardens, ascending the servants’ stairs. Entering Anne’s chamber, he found his aunt in the midst of a shrill quarrel with Colonel Fitzwilliam.
Anne, pale and wan, winced at each rise of her mother’s voice. Darcy’s tone, when it came, was sharp as a blade. “Lady Catherine, you will lower your voice at once, or Richard and I will remove you to the dower house, where you shall remain until our cousin’s health is restored.”
His aunt stared at him, clearly astonished. In twenty years, he had never spoken to her thus. Turning to Richard, he said evenly, “Shall I escort her to the dower house now, to give you peace for the day?”
Lady Catherine’s reply was a protest that the dower house was dirty and unfit.
“In that case,” Darcy said, “I shall be happy to escort you to your suite, where you may remain until my return.”
Fury flared in her eyes; then, in a fit of rage, she seized a heavy cut-glass vase and hurled it. Darcy, anticipating the movement, stepped aside. The vase landed upon the thick Axminster carpet with a muffled thud, unbroken.
