Carrie Bebris - The Matters at Mansfield

Mr. Crawford’s expression hardened. “A few superannuated servants receive pensions, but they amount to an insignificant sum. With all due respect, I believe that I have answered enough of these queries at present to satisfy your concerns about Anne’s welfare, and that further discussion of the subject is more appropriately postponed until our solicitors arrive.”

“Due respect? Your decision to elope rather than secure my blessing for my daughter’s hand demonstrates your regard for propriety. As does your infamous affair of last summer. Oh, yes — I know of your liaison with Mrs. Rushworth. Did you think I would not hear of it the moment my solicitor began his enquiries?”

“I anticipated it would come out.”

“It was never hidden! Had you exercised discretion, the affair might be ignored by Polite Society. But you lived together for months, flouting every convention of morality and respectability. You are not a significant enough personage to have been on the lips of every member of the ton, but those who know you, know of the scandal. And now you have mired my daughter in it as well. For centuries the de Bourgh name stood untarnished, until it became allied with yours. Had you not interfered, Anne was to have married a future viscount. A viscount! The only title you bear is that of adulterer — and, Mr. Crawford, I give you notice right now that that appellation had better be obsolete. Your days of philandering are over.”

“I assure you, they were so the moment I met Anne.”

“Your liaison with Mrs. Rushworth is indeed ended?”

“Most certainly. I have not seen her since we parted last autumn.”

“It is entirely by coincidence, then, that of all places you could contrive an accident that requires your continuance in a remote village, the event occurred in this neighborhood — the seat of Mrs. Rushworth’s family?”

“Mother! You cannot possibly think — Henry, do not even answer that accusation. It is most unjust.”

Mr. Crawford regarded Lady Catherine with indignation. “If you believe me to have orchestrated this mishap, to have intentionally caused Anne harm so that I might be near my mistress, you entirely misjudge my character. Even were I capable of such treachery, Mrs. Rushworth and I did not separate on cordial terms. I would be anywhere in England but Mansfield.”

A knock sounded on the door. Mr. Crawford appeared grateful for the interruption. Indeed, Elizabeth, having endured her share of Lady Catherine’s foul mood, welcomed it herself. Henry opened the door to find Mr. Gower.

“Mr. Crawford, your horse and the other belongings you sent for have arrived.”

“Is Magellan settled in the stables?”

The innkeeper appeared confused. “I’m sorry, sir?”

“My horse?”

“I beg your pardon, sir — I thought the servant called it by another name. Charleybane.”

“A bay?”

“With a white blaze, and a scar.”

Mr. Crawford issued an exasperated gasp. “Admiral Davidson sent the wrong mount.”

“I don’t know anything about it, sir, only that your horse is in the stable and a visitor waits for you below.”

“I am not expecting anybody. Who wishes to see me?”

“Mrs. Rushworth.”

“You need not trouble yourself,” Mr. Crawford said to Darcy as they descended the stairs.

“Lady Catherine requested that I accompany you.”

“Ah. From my initial encounter with my new mother-in-law, I apprehend that it would cost you more trouble to refuse. Tell me, so that on future occasions I might better perform the role of a model son, do the members of this family always obey her ladyship’s orders?”

“I comply when it suits my interests to do so.”

“And at present, it suits your interests to play nursemaid? If you offer me a sweet, I promise not to misbehave.”

“At present, I wish to see my cousin restored to her mother’s good will, which is more easily accomplished if Lady Catherine can be assured of your reliability.”

“That suits my interests also. Very well, monitor this meeting with Mrs. Rushworth if doing so will prove my devotion to Anne, though I hardly require a chaperone. I have no idea what motivates Maria’s call, but I can state with certainty that we will not be arranging any sort of tryst.”

Darcy was not quite so certain. His faith in Mr. Crawford was provisional, the elopement having prejudiced him to a degree not easily mitigated. Upon reaching the parlor, however, he was more inclined to accept Crawford’s pledge on the likelihood of renewing an affaire de coeur with Mrs. Rushworth.

The room was empty save for one well-dressed couple. The lady wore a tall hat, short gloves, and one of the most forbidding countenances Darcy had ever beheld. Flinty eyes penetrated the creases of a visage which had looked upon the world for at least threescore years. Was this truly the face that had launched a thousand ships? At nine-and-twenty, Anne must have seemed a debutante by comparison.

“Your friend is more… mature… than I anticipated,” Darcy said.

“That is not Maria. It is her mother-in-law.”

The much younger gentleman, whom Darcy took to be Maria’s husband, was tall and broad, and might have cut an impressive figure were his frame not weighted by evidence of an abundant table. Darcy guessed him to be of similar years to himself, but the unnatural roundness of his features made his age difficult to judge with greater precision.

Mrs. Rushworth regarded Henry with disdain. “So it is true. You had the effrontery to return to Mansfield.”

“Believe me, madam, I find myself here entirely by accident.”

“I have seen how you conduct yourself, Mr. Crawford. Nothing you do occurs by accident.”

Her gaze shifted to Darcy. She silently assessed him, betraying no hint of the opinion she formed. “Whoever your companion is,” she said to Crawford, “I would caution him against continuing to associate with a gentleman who repays trust with treachery.”

“And if he is married, I hope he knows to keep you away from his wife,” Mr. Rushworth added.

“Mr. Darcy, I am sure, appreciates your caveats, but he need have no anxiety on either of those points. Have you additional advice to offer him, or is the remainder of your business with me?”

“Most assuredly with you. Perhaps he could withdraw whilst the three of us discuss respect for what belongs to others.”

“I look forward to hearing your thoughts on the subject.” Henry turned to Darcy. “Pray excuse us.”

Darcy welcomed the dismissal. He had just endured one conversation between Henry Crawford and an incensed mother-in-law, and did not care to witness another, let alone one with the added fuel of a betrayed husband. He could predict the course of their dialogue. They wanted the satisfaction of voicing their indignation, and it would matter little whether Mr. Crawford attempted to placate them or silently subjected himself to the tirade. Darcy left them to air their grievances and sought out the far more desirable company of his wife.

He found Elizabeth in their room. Though he wished he were coming upon her in their chamber at Pemberley, after a week of exhausting travel under even more exhausting circumstances, he was glad she was in Mansfield. He never liked to be separated from her for long. He drew her toward him.

“Now that we are alone I can greet you properly.”

She smiled. “Or improperly.”

At present he would settle for a kiss. “You left Lily-Anne well?”