The Darcy Cousins (39 page)

"However, the reason for my precipitous journey to London was not to impart this news," he said. "Something of far greater import has brought me here."

Elizabeth by now was quite prepared to leave the room, so great was her frustration at having to wait so long to learn the reason for his visit. She could only conclude that it could not be anything of importance and that it was most likely a request for funding from Mr Darcy or some such matter.

"I hope you will not take it amiss if I speak freely," said Mr Collins, "for I would not cause offence to a nephew of Lady Catherine for the world."

Darcy commanded him to speak as freely as possible.

"I could not wait a moment longer to inform you of her circumstances, you understand. I told you earlier that the news she received laid her prostrate. However, it would be more correct to 355

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say that the shock of the news--terrible as it was--has so changed her that she is but a shadow of herself. Which is why I am here. It is not in my place to make suggestions to such an elevated personage as yourself, but I am quite anxious"--here he paused to clear his throat, overwhelmed with emotion--"quite anxious, nay, even afraid, for her ladyship's health and would suggest that your presence is most urgently needed in Rosings."

"Why the devil did you not tell me so earlier?" exclaimed Darcy.

Mr Collins perceived that he had caused offence but was quite at a loss to understand how. He was not a perceptive man, but he concluded from Darcy's language, uttered in front of the ladies, that he was somehow out of patience. He proceeded immediately to make amends, by apologising so profusely that Mr Darcy was forced to leave the room.

"Cousin Elizabeth," he said, as a blinding insight provided the explanation for Mr Darcy's odd behaviour, "I believe that your noble husband is so overset by the news of Lady Catherine's poor health that he was compelled to leave the room. Who can blame him, when one reflects on the excellence, the generosity, and the kindness that are so much a part of her ladyship's character? You would be well advised to follow him, to provide him with the kind of comfort only wives can provide."

Elizabeth's expression of surprise made him realise that she had perhaps misunderstood him. "I was not referring, of course, to one's wifely duties," he said, whispering the last two words, and casting a sideways look at Georgiana. "I was referring rather to a wife's obligation to provide support to her husband in the tempestuous moments of life."

Elizabeth, making a strenuous effort to appear anxious, rose immediately.

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"Indeed, Mr Collins, you have put in me in mind of my duty, and I am afraid I must leave you, for, of course, my first duty must be to Mr Darcy."

And with that she quit the room, abandoning Georgiana to her fate.

Georgiana, however, was not about to be left behind.

"I am afraid, Mr Collins," she said, rising quickly to her feet,

"that I too must leave you. In her rush to provide comfort to Mr Darcy, Mrs Darcy forgot that it is not entirely proper for me to remain alone with you."

"Your sense of propriety does you credit, Miss Darcy, however, as a member of the clergy--"

But Georgiana was not destined to hear what he said, for she had already left the room.

The Season was over. Gatley had had quite enough of London and was more than ready to forgo the dubious pleasure of balls and routs and picnics and other such things, and to return to the quiet of the countryside. He had always disliked London at this time of the year, but this year it seemed worse than usual. With the weather turning damper, hinting of autumn already, a heavy oppressive air hung over town. Everyone talked of the striking orange sunsets, and there was talk of Turner frantically painting one landscape after another to try to capture it. But, notwithstanding the sunsets, London towards the end of August seemed like a fairground when the fair was over.

Normally, he would return home to Hunsford. But Kent did not hold its usual appeal. He had a sudden urge to travel north. His explanation for this break with his customary habits was that he 357

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had been neglecting a piece of property left to him by a distant relative near Kenelworth, in Warwickshire. At certain rare moments of reflection, he admitted it was likely he did not want to go to Kent because he wished to avoid any reminders of the Darcys. He would be certain to remember them each time he passed by Rosings. He had had quite enough of them this year.

He had received a note from Fitzwilliam Darcy the day after Gatley had left that wretched inn in Richmond. Darcy had wished to meet with him in order to clear the misunderstanding that had occurred. He had even hinted at an apology. Gatley's answer, invented at the spur of the moment, had been that he had urgent business to attend to in the north and that he would be out of town for some time.

And so he set out on an entirely unexpected trip to Warwickshire, and by the time he had reached Kenelworth, he had quite convinced himself that he had been a most neglectful landowner, and it was high time he attended to the property, met with his steward there, and made sure that his tenants were well taken care of. There was nothing worse than an absent landlord.

And from this far away, the whole quarrel in London took on a different perspective. Darcy's note was by now quite pointless. He needed no apology from Darcy. Darcy had slighted his honour, true. But Darcy was an old friend and understood him well enough not to mistake his motives. He had simply been in the grip of an uncontrollable anger, which was perfectly understandable, given the reasons for that anger.

With Miss Darcy, the situation was quite different.

Which is where things had become more complicated. For no matter how much he tried, he could not determine who was most at fault. His mind swung like a pendulum. One day, he would be 358

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filled with outrage that she had been so capable of abusing his trust that she had embroiled him in such an underhanded scheme.

The next day, however, he would awake with the conviction that he should have listened to her. He had judged her without looking at the facts, and he began to wonder if had missed some crucial piece of information. On those days, he had to restrain himself from saddling the fastest horse in his stables and riding to see her, in order to discover what that missing piece was and to give her the chance to explain.

But he was absolutely determined not to give in to the temptation.

Because he knew if he did, he would forgive her. Precisely what it was that he had to forgive had become more and more blurred in his mind.

There was a strong sense of betrayal, of being used, by her, by her cousin, and by Channing. He had not heard from his cousin since, nor had Gatley attempted any contact. Channing had stepped on his toes one time too many, and he had decided that he would have nothing more to do with him. Not that Channing had even noticed.

Nevertheless, he awaited almost daily the news of an engagement. For surely, if Channing had been planning a clandestine meeting with Clarissa, there would have to be an engagement.

Darcy would see to it.

Meanwhile, he had received Miss Darcy's news regularly. His mother--while she was still in London--seemed to make it rather a point to write to him in excruciating detail how Miss Darcy had looked at the latest ball, what witty remarks she had made, and who she had danced with. And he had no choice but to read the letters.

His mother clearly favoured Miss Darcy, undoubtedly because she had been friends with Lady Anne, Darcy's mother. But she did not know the full truth about her, and he was too much of a gentleman to disillusion her.

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Georgiana was sitting on a stone bench in the garden, viewing the sunset. It had become almost a habit of hers, on sunny days, to watch the colours spread across the sky. They were really quite remarkable. She had not seen anything like it--at least nothing that she remembered.

"You should paint them," said Clarissa, coming to join her.

Georgiana shuddered. "I never want to sketch or paint anything again."

"You cannot mean that," said Clarissa. "You cannot give up painting just because of a silly picnic."

"I suppose not," said Georgiana. She had taken that sketch out more than once and looked at it carefully. It was really quite ironic that no one had ever thought to claim it after all.

"Move up," said Clarissa. She sat next to her on the bench. The two of them observed the unfamiliar brazen sunset, each preoc-cupied with her own thoughts.

"I--I have heard bad news," said Clarissa.

Georgiana sat up in alarm. "What news? Is it about anyone I know?"

"You need not be alarmed. It is bad news for me. Just today I received a letter from my mother--"

"Everyone is wel , I hope?" interrupted Georgian, fil ed with dread.

"Yes, yes. It is nothing to do with my family. It is news of Mr Parker."

"Mr Parker?"

Clarissa smiled bitterly. "Yes, the man who was to follow me here and to marry me. Mama writes that Mr Parker has announced his engagement to a young lady from Peabody, the daughter of a very rich sea merchant there. They are to be married in October."

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Georgiana put her arm around her cousin's shoulder. "Oh, Clarissa! What terrible news! And all this time you have been waiting for him."

Clarissa drew away and stood up. "I suppose I felt deep inside me that he would not come, for I am not at all surprised. But I did wait and hope, and now it is all over."

Her voice was quiet. She stood very still, the sunset painting her face a garish orange.

Georgiana too stood still. She knew what it all meant. Pride, dreams, affections--all cut down, all betrayed, all at an end.

"I am sorry," she whispered, and she did not know if she was talking to herself or to her cousin.

"I have placed myself in an awkward situation," said Darcy at breakfast the next day, holding up a letter that had just arrived.

"I have committed us to go to Ansdell Manor, the home of the Gatleys in Hunsford."

Georgiana's throat constricted as she heard the name, and the toast she had brought to her mouth toppled back onto her plate. She tried to cover her reaction with a cough, hoping no one would notice.

"Something wrong, Georgie?" said Darcy. "It looks like the toast went the wrong way."

"Nothing at all. I simply swallowed too quickly."

"Drink some tea. It will wash it down," said Elizabeth.

"I am perfectly well," said Georgiana, vexed by receiving so much attention when she had tried not to draw attention.

"In that case, I can explain my problem," said Darcy. "Since Mr Collins came to visit, I have felt troubled about my aunt's situation, 361

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even though I cannot credit Mr Collins with common sense when it comes to his patroness. Still, if he says my aunt is suffering, there must be some modicum of truth in it, however apt to exaggeration he may be. Since we are on the verge of going north to Pemberley, and will be there for several months, I thought it better to take the opportunity of going to see Lady Catherine before we travel.

"I cannot stay at my aunt's house--for obvious reasons--so I wrote to Gatley to see if I could put up in his house--Ansdell Hall--for a few days. It seemed to me the best solution. Imagine my consternation when I received a letter this morning from Mrs Gatley."

He held up the letter.

"She says that her son is not at Ansdell--he has gone to take care of some property in the north and then has some business in London afterwards--but that, if we can spare the time before going back to Pemberley, she would love to have company herself.

I could avail myself of the plentiful hunting opportunities in the area, and I would not be alone, since Channing has just arranged a hunting party. We are consequently all invited to Kent to stay for as long as we would like to."

A bitter conflict immediately seized Georgiana's mind.

She wanted to go badly. The idea of being in his house--of being in the very same edifice where he lived--both repelled her and thrilled her. To haunt his garden, to breathe the very air of the rooms he inhabited, to know even where his bedchamber was situated--the very suggestion filled her with longing.

But what would be the point? It could bring nothing but torment to her. What purpose could be served by going there, whether he was present or not? She wanted to run in the opposite direction, to go as far from there as could possibly be.

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No. She should not go, no matter how much she would like to. She had to stand firm. She needed to put this whole episode behind her and to recover her equilibrium again. She had recovered from her interest in Mr Channing. Clarissa was slowly recovering from her interest in Mr Parker. There was every indication that she too would recover from her strange obsession with Mr Gatley as well. But this would not happen if she went to his house, where everything around her would evoke him. She needed to forget, not to remember.

"It is very kind of Mrs Gatley to invite us," said Georgiana.

"But surely we do not all have to go there. Lady Catherine would most likely see only you, Fitzwilliam, if she agreed to see anyone at all. She would certainly not wish to see me. Have you forgotten that, according to her, I am one of the perpetrators? I would by far prefer to set out for Pemberley."

Pemberley was her refuge. It was her source of comfort. The quiet of Pemberley, with its familiar hallways, the pictures of her ancestors, her childhood memories--it was the haven she had always returned to. When her father had died, after that incident with Wickham, even after Wickham's death, its green parks, its rolling hills, its serene lake--these had enabled her to find the peace and acceptance she needed. She was sure it would do the same now.

Darcy and Elizabeth exchanged glances. Something unspoken passed between them. Georgiana watched and waited.