Page 36 of The Fee Entail

She gave a bit of a smile at my impertinence, and apparently decided to pay it back in kind. “Even worse! He is acting polite and friendly!”

I could see her trying to bite back the words as soon as they were said, but I was having none of that.

“Do not distress yourself. You may be the first person to tell me anything true in years. May I assume he was neither of those in Hertfordshire last year?”

She grimaced at the mention of that time, though I had no idea why. “He was not! I mean—”

She paused as if searching for words, but apparently could not find any. “He was not well liked, but we do not like to talk about that time. His was not the only offence.”

She went from happy and impertinent to nervous and uneasy in a moment, and it had to be my brother at fault, but I was not quite ready to give up. I may have neglected to mention in the beginning that I have the same stubbornness and lack of good sense most Darcys enjoy.

“Pray, do not be distressed. I know how he can be. Would it be fair to assume he was not liked?”

Now she looked like she had somehow walked into a trap, and I hurriedly reassured her, “I apologise! That was impolite.”

She looked me up and down as if appraising me. Something told me her year twelve was not any better than my year eleven, and she was not the only sister carrying a burden. I could not tell what she was about, but tried to salvage myself.

“Please, Miss Mary, I feel like I have poisoned our acquaintance before it properly began. May we start anew?”

She again paused, and finally grinned. “I do not advise that. We would just have to go through that awkward phase again, and once was enough. Let us just carry forward.”

I readily nodded agreement and she looked around, most pointedly at my brother and Mrs Collins.

She thought for a moment. “Your brother was not liked. He was arrogant and rude and condescending. He insulted my sister Lizzy—Mrs Collins now—though she does not like to be called that… before he even met her. She could barely stand the sight of him at the end.”

She gasped as if her tongue had run away, but I very forwardly grasped her hand to let her know I was not offended. She paused nervously, then squeezed back.

She continued almost in a whisper, as if afraid of being overheard, “Something has changed, Miss Darcy. I cannot convey the entire story of our family, but suffice it to say it has been a difficult year; but something is very different. None of my sisters understand it. We only arrived before luncheon yesterday, and your brother has been in constant company since then. He seems to have developed a… peculiar… sort of… friendship… with my sister Lizzy, and she… well, let us just say she seems a bit… confused. Something has happened between them; and then again, something with my eldest sister Jane, but I do not understand either.”

By then, Miss Mary had turned red, and looked like she wished she could keep her own counsel. I did not blame her, as our conversation was incredibly forward on both sides. I thought perhaps it might be wise to save more conversation until the morrow.

Right then, I started to see the peculiarities of the friendship, if that was what it was, that she referred to. Mrs Collins instructed my brother to escort the ladies into the dining room without a single word or even seeming to pay him any particular attention. A glance at him and another at the door seemed to be all that was required.

I could not really see any more, as Mrs Collins then took her eldest and youngest sisters through a doorway and down some stairs, presumably to a kitchen. They all returned a few minutes later with trays of food.

I sat down to table between Miss Mary and my cousin Anne, and shared Anne’s astonishment when my brother poured for Aunt Catherine. I also noticed that the peculiar behaviour did not raise a single eyebrow among the Bennets, as if he did this every day.

It seemed my brother had not even known about the sisters when he sent the express—just Mrs Collins. Why he was having a peculiar relationship with a married woman—come to think of it, where was her husband?—was beyond me; but I intended to find out. Of course, my cousin Anne seemed as if she was determined to do the same.

It was promising to be the most interesting evening of my life, if I managed to survive the shock.

Revelations

Lady Catherine

Looking back on the evening, I had to wonder why I did not perceive more about the woman. Mrs Collins had been about the parsonage for nearly a year and only visited me a few times, with that apparently under duress. Such an action was nearly inconceivable, as everyone within my purview typically showed me the respect due my station. I thought her an ill-mannered, probably poorly bred and poorly raised specimen, right up to the moment when I could no longer carry that opinion. That moment came upon me suddenly and unexpectedly; and it would be some time before I really understood what prompted my change of attitude.

My nephew, Fitzwilliam Darcy, missed his annual Easter visit to Rosings for understandable enough reasons, but then dilly-dallied around for most of the rest of the year. When he finally did appear, he may as well have stayed in town for all I saw of him. He came to Rosings on Friday with a look indicating he would just as soon kill someone as have supper, and he was not even as polite to me as he usually was, which was just barely civil. He spared Anne hardly a glance before retiring to his room, even going so far as to send his valet off before supper, demanding a tray and solitude for the evening. Arriving on foot was the very least of his surprises for the day. Where was his carriage, or at least his horse?

The next two days, he wandered around Rosings in a thunderous mood. On Saturday, he spent most of the day in the library looking through various legal books left by my late husband, and took all his meals away from the family, still in as black a humour as I had ever seen. The only time he came out of the library was to call for an express rider, who he instructed for a half-hour before sending him off to town, an act he repeated with three different riders over the course of the following two days.

On Sunday, we went to church as usual. The sermon was delivered by the curate, who unlike his predecessor, simply delivered the classic sermons in an efficient and workmanlike manner. Darcy again showed himself incapable of holding even the simplest conversation with anybody, though he kept glancing at Mrs Collins in the parson’s pew. He then hid himself in his room for the rest of the day, though he did receive express messages in the afternoon, and again early Monday morning, at which point he disappeared entirely again.

By Wednesday evening, I was sick of it. I had a suspicion that, since he met Mrs Collins the year previously and he seemed to look in her direction frequently in church, he might have re-established some type of friendship with her; or more likely, he was simply performing some type of service, since she was mostly alone and unprotected. He was the consummate gentleman, which meant he would probably see her plight as a duty, and he was not a man to shirk his duty, even if it seemed to pain him more than any casual acquaintance should. It would not particularly explain his mood, not even close, but it would explain his actions. Perhaps that friend of his from trade had done something to Mrs Collins or one of her apparently numerous sisters. They were in company the previous winter, and that would leave Darcy to clean up after the man, which would not surprise me.

Mrs Collins thoroughly astonished me when I accosted her in the parsonage on Wednesday. I expected her to be ungracious and unfriendly based on our previous lack of interaction, but she disarmed me. She greeted me cordially, with a friendly countenance as if she truly appreciated my attendance. She then proceeded to confuse and befuddle me to the point where I accepted an invitation to supper, and apparently approved of my nephew calling on her. I must admit that, in verbal sparring, I was thoroughly bested for the first time in years… and I will never admit this to another soul, but I found it refreshing. Nobody else even bothered to try any more, but Mrs Collins was not like other young wives.

She even managed to imply that I was incapable of having a simple supper at the parsonage. I had no idea what such a meal would entail, but I assumed it would be mediocre food, poor company, and little conversation. I saw no evidence of a cook, or any other servants for that matter. She might invite some of her parishioners or friends. She even had one of my old servants living in the parsonage with her, and for all I knew, she might invite her to dine with us as well.