Yes, if he were to marry Anne he would become master of Rosings Park in the fullness of time. Darcy’s thoughts raced. First, to the fact that this would be a solution to the problem of fencing the common—for if he were to acknowledge his engagement to Anne, his aunt would have to acquiesce to his wishes concerning it—and then to the idea that she had anticipated this, that it had been her intention all along to use it as a lever to bend him to her will. It would explain why she had hired McGinty. There were other candidates she could have chosen for Rosings’ steward.
Could his aunt be so Machiavellian? Darcy wondered, realizing even as the thought occurred to him that the answer to that question was a resounding yes.
“Mr. Bingley is here, and his sisters and Mr. Hurst, but Mr. Darcy is not with them. Perhaps he is not coming,” Jane said. “Did Lady Catherine tell you that he was coming for sure?”
“Mr. Bingley has come?” Elizabeth asked. They were alone in the sitting room which was adjacent to their bed chambers. The fire crackled in the hearth. Outside, snow fell in large lazy flakes that drifted down from the gunmetal gray sky. The large windows of the sitting room were etched with frost in pretty patterns. It was the time of afternoon between lunch and dinner when ladies were at their leisure. Elizabeth was reading a book she’d taken from the large library—Castle Rackrent, by Maria Edgeworth, which recounted the financial miss-steps of an aristocratic family through the eyes of their steward, and which were resolved, very amusingly, to the benefit of the steward’s cunning son—and Jane was doing needlework.
“Yes, isn’t that right, Giselle?” Jane asked the housemaid who was fetching some mending for their mother.
“Yes, Miss,” Giselle said. “I heard the other servants talking about the new guests. I asked them who had arrived. They didn’t mention Mr. Darcy had come, though.”
“Perhaps he will come later,” Elizabeth said. “Lady Catherine seemed quite convinced that he was to be in attendance. And surely Mr. Bingley is here because Mr. Darcy is coming.”
For some reason—and this surprised her—Elizabeth was disappointed that Darcy was not among Mr. Bingley’s company.
“But how do you feel, Jane?” Elizabeth said remembering her sister. “Do you feel able to face Mr. Bingley?”
“Oh yes,” said Jane lightly. “What’s done is done. It’s all in the past that I bear no ill will towards him or his sisters.”
“You are too good,” Elizabeth said. She knew that she would not be able to forgive as easily as her sister, for Jane had been, as their mother would put it, very ill-used by Mr. Bingley.
“Not at all,” Jane said. “He simply meant more to me than I did to him. I was the one to blame if there is any blame to be had.”
“That is not the way our mother sees it,” Elizabeth said. “I would not be a bit surprised if she did not take him to task.”
“Perhaps there will be enough eligible gentlemen here for her to be sufficiently distracted that she leaves Mr. Bingley in peace. For my part, Lizzy, you may be sure that I bear him no ill will.”
Elizabeth noted that she did not mention Caroline Bingley, whose machinations had been apparent even to Jane. She remembered how Jane had waited in London for a visit from Mr. Bingley’s sisters, after corresponding with Caroline, only to have them show up for a cursory visit after a period of two weeks and Mr. Bingley to never visit at all.
“And I am not angry with Caroline either, Lizzy,” Jane said, guessing, as she often did, Elizabeth’s thoughts. “She was simply trying to protect her brother. It’s true that I am not a very suitable match for him. You will recall how kind Caroline was to me when I was ill at Netherfield. She and Louisa could not have been more solicitous towards me.”
“But are you so sure, Jane, that you are over your feelings for Mr. Bingley?” It would be an unlucky thing if Mr. Bingley’s unexpected presence would cause Jane distress, but Elizabeth did not see how it could be otherwise. “Even though I have no feelings for Mr. Darcy, other than those attendant to a strong dislike, I have to say that I am discomfited by the prospect of his presence.”
“But that’s the difference. You were angry with Mr. Darcy. I was only disappointed with Mr. Bingley,” Jane said. “I’m not eager to see him, but I do not dread the prospect.”
They were interrupted by the arrival of Mrs. Bennet, who stormed into the room with Mary and Kitty in her wake.
“Have you heard the news?” she said breathlessly. “Mr. Bingley is come!”
“Yes, Mother, we have heard,” Jane said calmly. “Giselle told us.”
“Well, I never!” Mrs. Bennet said, her chest heaving with indignation. “If I had known he was to be here after the way he used you, Jane, I’d have had half a mind to keep you at home. I wouldn’t have—I would not give him the satisfaction—but it would’ve occurred to me. The impertinence!”
“I’m sure that Mr. Bingley did not know that we would be here,” Elizabeth said. “I believe he only came because Mr. Darcy is coming as well.”
“Mr. Darcy, too? I thought Mr. Collins said he wasn’t able to attend Christmas at Rosings Park this year?” Mrs. Bennet asked. The news that Mr. Darcy was also expected rendered her nearly apoplectic. “I don’t know which of them is the worst! The way Mr. Bingley treated Jane was abominable. I have told everyone of his conduct, and they all agree with me. And as for Mr. Darcy—has there ever been a prouder, more disagreeable man? He’s not what I would call a gentleman all, not the least part of one, I shouldn’t say.
“They will both get a piece of my mind that they come around my daughters,” Mrs. Bennet said this last in a low,
menacing tone that would, Elizabeth thought, have terrified the gentlemen in question had they been able to hear it.
“A forgiving nature is one of the qualities we would all do well to cultivate.”
“Oh, hush, Mary!” Mrs. Bennet said. “This is not the time for one of your sermons!”
“There is a carriage coming down the lane,” Kitty said.
Elizabeth laid her book down and went to the window. She looked out through the frost on its leaded panes at the road below.