Page 33 of The Fee Entail

We both looked askance at his uncharacteristically un-Darcy-like conduct. With a bit of a flourish, considering what a stick-in-the-mud he was, Darcy swept back and presented his surprise. We both just stared as he opened the door without asking the footman and showed two thoroughly unexpected guests. I stared a moment, then shocked both of them with an enthusiastic greeting, which was not usually my mode of address.

“Richard! Georgiana! What a surprise! Welcome. We are happy to see you, are we not, Mother? We are just going out to supper, but I cannot wait to talk with you later.”

Darcy was definitely a naughty boy, sneaking Richard and Georgiana into our midst with nary a word of warning. He had been at Rosings a full week and given not the slightest indication that either was to be in attendance. I had no idea where he planned to stuff them while we went for our supper at the parsonage.

The colonel made a sweeping bow and greeted us with all the meaningless cordiality that was so characteristic. Whereas Darcy never gave me a compliment, the colonel appeared incapable of making a full and complete sentence in my presence without one. We had never actually spoken a single sentence of any real substance that I could recall, but he certainly could lay out the flowery, pretty, and ultimately empty words with the best of them. Perhaps they taught that wherever he went to school to learn the art of war. Mayhap it was required on the battlefield to compliment a man before you tried to slice him open with your sword or run over him with your horse.

Georgiana looked just as shy and timid as she ever did, which put her on about an even footing with me. Neither of us performed well to strangers, or with just about anybody when you came right down to it. We were not naturally voluble in the least, which was ordinarily of no particular concern, since nobody ever spoke two words of sense in the presence of my mother anyway. I was happy to see her, because she was my only female relative closer in age to me than my mother. I believe she rarely visited Rosings, mostly because she was frightened to death of the place; a sensible enough attitude.

I thought it was insufferably rude for us to send them upstairs while we went off to the parsonage.

I said, “Darcy, what are you about inviting them when we are just to leave for supper? It seems either the worst possible planning, or at the very least a touch impolite to leave them alone after the journey.”

Darcy smiled again. “I appreciate your concerns, Anne, but all is well. They are invited with us. I know you look forward to time with Mrs Collins, but there will be other opportunities, I assure you. I hope you do not mind?”

“Of course not!”

Darcy’s absence that week had been convenient, but on reflection, it seemed unlikely he was spending all his time in the haberdashery or the blacksmith, so the most likely location for his ‘urgent business’ was the parsonage. Mr Collins once mentioned meeting my cousin Darcy when he went to Hertfordshire to find his bride (well, closer to a couple of dozen mentions, but why quibble), so perhaps Mrs Collins already knew Darcy, and he was doing something for her. It would have been the gentlemanly thing to do, and my cousin was nothing if not gentlemanly and diligent in any perceived duty that did not involve conversation with me.

Mr Collins was not in the best of health, with one foot firmly in the grave, so Darcy would have been the only candidate for whatever she required. I did not mind in the least, because in a week or two, Darcy would be gone and Mrs Collins would still be here. If I could get to know her just a trifle better during the supper or the following weeks, I might be able to visit from time to time with my phaeton. I had stopped by a few times during the year she was here, and she was always cordial and civil, but there was a reserve I could not seem to get beyond. I would like it ever so much if I could have a friend in the area, at least until her goat of a husband died. After that, who could say? We certainly had room for one more lady in Rosings.

I might have shown a bit of disappointment, but I was content with his assessment that I would have another chance later. I was obviously not the primary object of the invitation anyway. For that matter, I was not entirely certain my mother was, since Darcy had been acting very strangely since the start of his visit. I found it most refreshing, since he was gone from Rosings most of the time, but when present, he acted oddly. His mood shifted about on an almost daily basis, from the foulest and blackest humour I had ever seen, to that evening’s display of girlish giddiness.

Both Mother and I were somewhat fanatical about being ready early, so it was still more than an hour before we actually had to go to the carriage. Darcy was either incredibly lax about arranging travel for my two cousins, or very clever about having them arrive just in time to clean up and go over straightaway without having to spend very much time in my mother’s company. For all I knew, my cousin Fitzwilliam timed the entire journey like a military campaign, with the objective being to minimise contact with the enemy, while maximising chances of meeting up with friendly forces as soon as possible.

Either way, Georgiana and the colonel hurried upstairs along with Darcy, and less than an hour later, they all came back cleaned, flattened, combed, and stuffed into the best clothes they had, ready to go over to the parsonage. Georgiana wore a pale yellow silk gown of a style very similar to mine, with a blue ribbon and a different style of lace. Her sleeves were short, which may have been the style that season, I imagined. We looked almost like sisters standing next to each other. We were both so shy that a passing breeze would probably knock us both over on top of each other, so it really did not hurt that we looked so similar. I was not in the least bit put out or jealous of the girl, as I looked as well as I could, and she looked as well as she could. That was really all there was to it, and she looked as nervous as I felt. If she also managed to make friends with Mrs Collins, I would not mind. Mrs Collins seemed capable of managing two friendships at once.

The coach was in the drive at precisely the correct time to deliver us to the parsonage at precisely the appointed hour. Darcy offered one arm to me and another to his sister, while the colonel performed the honours for my mother. Within a few minutes, we donned our wraps, were handed into the carriage, and made the short ride to the parsonage that we could have walked to in less time.

My cousins handed us down to find Mrs Collins standing on the doorstep in her wrap waiting for us. That seemed a bit odd, but not so unusual as to cause alarm. I imagined she did not have ladies like my mother to supper every week. Actually, I am certain she never did, as I would have known about that eventually. Mother liked to think she knew everything that happened in the village, but she only knew about the half of it; but far be it from me to spoil her illusions.

“Welcome to my home, ladies and gentlemen. I am so happy you could attend.”

Mother had been acting most oddly that past week as well. She went off in the carriage in a huff on Wednesday evening looking for my cousin, and returned subdued, seeming a little bit confused, and somehow invited to the parsonage for supper. She cornered Darcy in her office for well over an hour on Thursday, but came out looking unsatisfied. Darcy was a man who could keep his own counsel when he chose to, which he often did.

Mrs Collins escorted us into the entry hall, where there was nary a servant to be seen. This, I imagined, would send my mother into fits, but unaccountably, it did not. She simply stopped before Darcy, and he helped her off with her wrap and hung it up, while Mrs Collins did the same honours for me, and Richard for Georgiana.

Mrs Collins was cordial to my mother, but not overly deferential. She greeted her as something like an old and well-known aunt, rather than as her patroness. I reckoned she showed proper respect and deference, but none of the obsequious behaviour her husband was famous for. Whether Mother found this annoying or refreshing was difficult to tell, because she seemed subdued.

When we were divested of our outer garments, Darcy stepped over to the door next to Mrs Collins. There was not the slightest doubt they knew each other, and not just as indifferent acquaintances. He showed her the respect due the lady of the house, as you would expect, but there was also an odd familiarity between them.

Mrs Collins curtseyed. “Lady Catherine, once again, welcome to my home. I am very happy you accepted, and cognisant of the honour bestowed. Welcome.”

Mother looked at her carefully. “I thank you for the invitation, Mrs Collins. Anne and I are quite looking forward to it.”

Mrs Collins nodded. “I can see Mr Darcy preparing to do his duty with proper introductions… eventually… but before that, I must inform you that I have some to make as well. Might we all retire to the parlour and simply perform the office all at once?”

Georgiana looked on in confusion, which I imagined matched my expression, while my cousin the colonel laughed and agreed to the scheme, while Darcy… well… Darcy smirked. I was ready for a lot of surprises in my life, but a teasing Darcy was not one of them.

Mother said, “A sensible plan. We need not stand on ceremony nor remain in the entry all night. Come, Darcy.”

She took Darcy’s arm without asking, but he was not put out. My other cousin offered an arm to Georgiana, and Mrs Collins said very cordially, “Miss de Bourgh and, I presume, Miss Darcy. May I say you are both visions of loveliness this evening! I most specifically welcome you to my home.”

Seeing my general level of confusion, she held out her hand to indicate the door that presumably led to either the parlour or a French dungeon, and walked in with me.

Inside the parlour, Darcy continued his annoying smirk, which I was beginning to either love or loathe—it would take me some time to decide—and Mother and I just stopped in shock.

The parlour was stacked front to back, floor to ceiling, top to bottom, consuming all available space, with young ladies. They were all pretty, all dressed in muslin, and all standing with their hands clasped in front of them in the most perfect ladylike poses you could imagine, straight from a deportment book. I presumed these must be sisters or cousins, as they all had a similar look to Mrs Collins.