Karen Wasylowski - Darcy and Fitzwilliam: A Tale of a Gentleman and an Officer

“You will now address me as the Grand High Exalted and Honorable Lady Georgiana Catherine Darcy, spinster, if you so please.” She raised a quizzing glass of their late uncle Louis’s to her eye to observe Darcy and Elizabeth. They all burst into laughter.

“Well, perhaps I have nothing to worry about just yet.”

The following week, Darcy left with Mr. Bennet early in the morning, returning his father-in-law to Longbourn. Although Mr. Bennet had been horrified at the prospect of meeting Lady Catherine, going so far as to publicly bemoan his fate at being away from his books and projects for so long a time, it was with some degree of sadness that he left her company and Rosings Park. He shivered a bit at the thought of his empty house.

Darcy turned a concerned glace at him across the carriage. “Are you chilled, sir? We can stop for more hot bricks at the next station.”

“No, William, I am quite warm. I was only thinking of Lady Catherine.”

Darcy’s momentary surprise turned to amusement. He nodded at his father-in-law. “She has had the same effect on many a younger and heartier person than yourself, sir.”

Mr. Bennet smiled. “She certainly is a force to be reckoned with, is she not?” He turned his gaze out the carriage window, his mind drifting back in time for a moment. “You know that she was generally regarded to be the great beauty of the county in her day, do you not? I myself was quite enamored of her—from afar, of course. Many a young buck was.”

Darcy smiled at the thought of Lady Catherine as a flirtatious young girl or as a beauty driving youthful Corinthians to distraction. “I am afraid that I can only think of her as my beloved aunt or as a well-coifed battering ram, depending upon her mood.”

“I understand completely. Thinking of a parent figure as once enjoying youthful urges is a repellent and unpleasant undertaking for the young.” Mr. Bennet suddenly laughed and turned to Darcy. “Shall I tell you something you may find even more disturbing?”

Darcy smiled back at him and nodded. “Feel free to do so, sir.” Knowing Mr. Bennet’s humor to be so similar to Lizzy’s, he had learned to appreciate their talks more and more.

“I find her still damned beautiful.”

Elizabeth had been spending more and more of her visit in her room, her swollen feet once again worrying her and her back throbbing. She received word of Caroline Bingley’s visit as she sat drinking chocolate and resting. “Downstairs?!” she gasped. “Here?! To see me?!” She could scarcely believe her maid as the young girl ran off to search for a pair of slippers that would fit.

Elizabeth was frozen with fear. Dear God. Here, in the same home, were the two people that she feared most in the world. What if Lady Catherine turned on her now? She was in no physical shape to take them both on at once. Her first instinct was to take the coward’s way out and faint. I should really remain in my room, bolt the door, and send down my regrets. It is what William would want me to do. It is definitely unhealthy for me to venture anywhere, being as I am so unsteady and wobbly. Then suddenly, she noticed that the swelling in her feet had receded. “Traitors,” Elizabeth hissed.

Her trust in Catherine was tenuous, her confidence in herself as solid as jam preserves. This will not go well for me, I fear. She struggled to her feet. Why is William never here when I need him? Where is Fitzwilliam? Perhaps he can come down with me. She sent her maid off to find him as a footman arrived to help her slowly make her way down into the parlor.

Well, here was a scene from hell, she thought to herself, a nightmare revisited. She found Lady Catherine sitting across from Caroline, both turning their dead, doll-like eyes toward her as she entered. Anne was also on the settee, along with her ever-present companion.

“Ah, Elizabeth. Finally you have come down and joined us! You have a visitor.”

Elizabeth waddled into the room with as much grace as possible, horrified at the note of censure in Lady Catherine’s greeting. “Yes, I see that, Lady Catherine. I am all amazement at this rare honor.” Lizzy crossed the room and sat alone in a high-backed chair positioned between the two opposing sofas.

“We have had quite a revealing chat while waiting for you to arrive.”

To Elizabeth’s disgust, Caroline looked beautiful in a fawn green batiste gown that complimented her red hair and pale skin. She looked stunning. Lizzy hated her. She felt like a dead, bloated cow left out in the sun to explode.

“Although Miss Bennet and I are but recent acquaintances, your ladyship, I have friendship of long standing with your wonderful nephew, Mr. Darcy.”

Elizabeth eyed the redhead from under lowered lashes. Suddenly she looked a little too redheaded, if Lizzy was any judge. If I were only a little lighter on my feet, I could poke that beady little eye from her perfect little face. “Evidently your memory is failing you, Miss Bingley. I am Mrs. Darcy now, and our acquaintance is of several years’ duration, not moments.”

Caroline grinned slyly, knowing she had made a direct hit.

“Elizabeth, must I remind you to please be more gracious to your guest?” Lady Catherine’s voice was cold and cutting, and she glanced disapprovingly at Lizzy. I knew she would turn on me at her first chance. Lizzy sighed deeply. I am done for, a bleeding corpse for when he returns. It serves him right.

What Lizzy had not noticed, however, were Aunt Catherine’s eyes narrowing as they looked back to Caroline. “You must forgive my niece, madam.” She turned her attention once more to Lizzy. “We must strive to be more Christian, my dear. It is never good form to speak unkindly to tradespeople. We must always be unexceptional and condescending in our manner with those who are in service… and therefore beneath us.”

Elizabeth, who had been blindly staring down at her folded hands, feeling miserable, froze. A glimmer of something—hope, maybe? Shock, certainly!—made her head snap up and her eyes dart quickly to her new aunt.

“I beg your pardon, your ladyship.” Caroline, refusing to acknowledge an offence, seemed amused with the older woman’s apparent confusion. A smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. Older people are so dear. She patted the edges of her mouth delicately with her napkin . If only they did not hang onto life so tenaciously. Like this old goat. She delicately sipped her tea, placed the cup lightly back onto the table then smoothed a hand over her very French, very fashionable, very expensive gown. She began to speak, but Catherine raised her hand.

“No matter, young woman. But please be kind enough to commence with your presentation. As you can see, my niece is with child and cannot be bothered for too long a period of time. And I do hope you’ve had enough presence of mind to bring chemisette samples.” She nodded to Elizabeth and then to Anne. “And a goodly variety of fichu caps in sensible shades of white. I am hopeless when it comes to imagining these colors from their names. Don’t you agree, Anne?” Anne nodded morosely, cleared her left nostril, and then gagged up some phlegm into her handkerchief.

Other than that, it was dreadfully quiet in the room. The clock on the mantel, a clock that had once graced the boudoir of Marie Antoinette, ticked on and on. Caroline stared uncomprehendingly at Lady Catherine, affronted by the Countess’s error. “Your ladyship has been greatly misinformed, most likely by Miss Bennet here.” Caroline looked angrily at Lizzy. “I am no tradesperson.” Her nostrils twitched at the mere scent of that word. She pulled herself up into a most majestic seated posture.

The condescension apparent in Lady Catherine’s voice of before turned cold and hard. So did her eyes. “You must forgive me, madam. I was unaware before this that you are ill.” Her eyes did not move; in fact, she momentarily did not look human. “Evidently you are experiencing the unfortunate effects of continuous brain seizures.”

Caroline’s natural color completely deserted her, leaving only the painted surface.

Lizzy stopped in midsip, her gaze darting back and forth over her cup, between the women.

Anne sneezed.

“Sorry…? What…?” Caroline sat rigidly on her chair. Her eyes were blinking wildly.

“My niece has already twice informed you of her name; however, as yet you seem incapable of retaining that small parcel of information.” Caroline’s eyes moved from Lady Catherine to Lizzy and then to Anne. Caroline returned her gaze back to Lady Catherine.

“But, if indeed you are not someone who has, unfortunately, become mentally impaired through disease or accident, then, I must say you have adopted a most impertinent attitude for a seamstress.” A small, thin smile broke the gravity of Catherine’s face, and her eyes became oddly merry again. “And, I would modify your prior comment to state that, although you are, indeed, a tradesperson, you are apparently not a very good one. You will never be a great success with this offensive sort of attitude.”

“I-I-I don’t understand what you are saying, your ladyship.”

“Are you not Miss Bagley, the seamstress my dear friend Lady Jersey recommended?” Aunt Catherine raised her quizzing glass.

“No, madam, I most certainly am not!” A brilliant flush of color rushed to Caroline’s face and was spreading from her cheeks into her bodice. In her indignation, she began to rock forward and back on the chair.