Page 105 of Cousin Conundrum

Elizabeth squeezed her eyes closed, too miserable to endure her relations.

“A Lady Catherine de Bourgh is asking to speak with Miss Elizabeth, mum.” Tilly’s voice cut through their bickering.

Elizabeth opened her eyes to find seven pairs turned on her, stunned.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Elizabeth shivered, pulling her shawl more tightly about her against the October chill. Lady Catherine, she was told, waited deeper in the garden. Her ladyship refused to enter Longbourn, despite Mr. Collins’ best effort. When he’d tromped out to beseech her to come in, she’d sent him scurrying back, cowed. Lady Catherine insisted she must speak with Elizabeth, and Elizabeth alone, beyond the hearing of others.

Except, when Elizabeth rounded the house, she discovered not only a formidable matron about the age of her mother, but three other women as well. Miss Laura, who skulked at the back of the group, Elizabeth recognized immediately. One of the others was perhaps even older than Lady Catherine, tall, a touch gaunt, and garbed with the reserve of a companion. The final woman…

Not much older than Elizabeth, her narrow face wasn’t unfortunate looking. Were her middling brown hair not dressed so severely and her gown cut to better show off her diminutive waist and downplay her equally diminutive top, she would be fetching. Certainly, she was attractive enough that the addition of what was likely a large dowry and the promise of her mother’s estate would render her irresistible to most.

Miss Anne de Bourgh, the woman to whom Mr. Darcy insisted he was not betrothed. The woman Elizabeth must equal in wealth to fulfill his commitment to his mother. Not Elizabeth’s rival, and yet her nemesis, nonetheless.

Reaching them, Elizabeth curtsied. “Lady Catherine, I presume.”

The heavyset woman looked her up and down. “You are Elizabeth Bennet?”

“From the moment my parents named me.”

“Do not be impertinent with me, girl.”

“Then do not be highhanded with me, madam.”

Tired as she was, Elizabeth still locked gazes with the woman. She was not so far gone to misery that she would permit Lady Catherine to intimidate her.

Silence drew out between them, punctuated by the chirp of sparrows and the rattle of russet leaves in a stiff breeze.

Miss de Bourgh stepped forward. “I am Miss Anne de Bourgh, Miss Elizabeth. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

Lady Catherine whirled to her daughter, breaking her tableau with Elizabeth. “You are not pleased to meet her. She is the reason Darcy refuses to marry you.”

Miss de Bourgh stiffened. “Darcy refuses to marry me because he does not want to marry me and I do not want to marry him.”

“He refuses to marry you because of some bizarre obsession with this chit. He permitted himself to be shot because of her. A Darcy, shot! By a woman, no less.” Lady Catherine shuddered, though Elizabeth suspected her ladyship felt more distress at the impropriety than the damage done to her nephew. “It defies rational thought.”

Behind the two, the older woman looked down, her arms clasped before her to make her frame even more narrow, as if she might fold into something so thin as to disappear. In contrast, Miss Laura watched their exchange with avid interest. Elizabeth felt a keen sense of doubt in the Crown’s judgment, if Miss Laura’s presence with Lady Catherine meant she was who the King thought best to reform Madame Dubois’ youngest.

“Nor can I comprehend why he would decide to be shot for the sake of this creature,” Lady Catherine continued to her daughter. “She is passably pretty, I suppose, in an understated way, but far too short and slight to make a proper wife for Darcy.”

And Miss de Bourgh was not slight?

But Elizabeth bit back those words. There was no need to attack Miss de Bourgh, who seemed to be on her side. Instead, ready to have this interview done before it even began, Elizabeth asked, “May I enquire as to the purpose of your call, Lady Catherine?” If her ladyship was there simply to assess Elizabeth, that must be counted as done.

“I am here to tell you that I do not care if my sister released Darcy from his vow. I will hold him to his word on her behalf.”

“Mr. Darcy’s mother released him from his vow to her?” Dizziness washed through Elizabeth. Could it be true?

But were it, then why would he… She swallowed. The vow truly was an excuse. His mother had released him. He merely evoked his vow to Lady Anne to get out of marrying Elizabeth.

“Do not feign ignorance with me.” Lady Catherine scowled, her jowls wobbling. “And do not pretend you and Darcy believe my sister to have been in her right mind when she wrote to me of her choice. It was her final letter to me, so I know how far gone to sickness she was. Anyone can see that her mind was no longer to be trusted. Illness had ravaged her to the point of insensibility.”

A tremble went through Elizabeth. She wanted to insist on seeing this letter. She longed to take it, to present it to Mr. Darcy and demand an explanation. Demand to know why he would rather lie than marry her.

To know why he told her he loved her and then cast her aside.

It made no sense. He’d nothing to gain by his confession. He was bedridden at the time, and his sister sat beside him. He hadn’t even attempted to kiss Elizabeth, so taking liberties could not have been the point of such a cruel ruse.