Darcy and Bingley managed to keep their presence in London quiet, not wishing to attend any of the usual social obligations that came with their station. Caroline, much to Lizzy and Jane’s relief, had accompanied the Hursts to Bath for a short vacation. With Georgiana still at Pemberley until the week before the wedding, the only extended family to deal with were the Earl and his wife. This could be problematic.
It had started, not shockingly, with Lady Catherine. In the first days after their engagement, Darcy had written his sister Georgiana, Mrs. Reynolds, and Cousin Richard glowing letters of his bliss at Miss Bennet accepting his hand. His letter to his uncle had been more formal but filled with personal revelations of his joy. Darcy was fairly close to his Aunt and Uncle Fitzwilliam but knew they would be shocked and dismayed at his choice of wife. Ultimately none of this mattered to him; however, his regard for their opinion and wish for their sanction was desired. His letter to his Aunt Catherine had been extremely formal and terse; he had not forgiven her for her inappropriate actions at Longbourn.
Despite his irritation, Darcy had not expected the rabid vitriol of his aunt’s attack against his fiancée. The letter she sent in answer to his news was lengthy and malicious. First she had responded to his announcement with a scathing denouncement of his character. According to her, he had betrayed his dear mother’s memory by callously abandoning Anne to spinsterhood. She said he was selfish, irresponsible, and a black mark on the ancient house of Darcy. There was much more and it did hurt; however, he was a self-confident man who knew the truth about his own character, so he could mainly ignore his aunt’s horrid words. It was when she viciously condemned Elizabeth personally that he responded with outrage and steely resolve. Lady Catherine had assaulted his honor as a gentleman and accountability as husband and protector of his wife, and he was beyond offended.
Lizzy never knew the full content of Lady Catherine’s letter. She probably would not have known the letter existed if she had not been at Netherfield the day it arrived. Darcy and Bingley were playing chess while the ladies sat nearby when the footman brought the gentlemen the day’s post. Darcy’s stack was large, as always, due to the numerous business interests he managed. He flipped through it quickly stopping with a frown upon spying his aunt’s hand. It had been a week since his engagement and his letter had only posted four days ago, so he was surprised at the haste of her reply and even that she had replied at all.
Later he would condemn himself for not having the foresight to open the letter in private or for not controlling his temper. As he read his face darkened visibly, eyes as black agates and lips pressed into the thin line signifying tremendous anger. Forgetting where he was in his wrath, he jerked from his chair uttering a vile curse and stormed from the room. Needless to say, the three other occupants of the room were stunned speechless.
Bingley had more experience with his friend’s temper, so he recovered quickly, stammering to assure the ladies that all would be well. After a moment of paralysis, Lizzy rose to follow Darcy. He had disappeared from sight, but the blanched face of a maid down the hall was indication enough of the direction he had taken.
She found him in the library, staring out a window. At first glance he seemed calm, but in the short time of their acquaintance, Lizzy had learned to recognize the signs of tension in his body—and never had he been as tense as he was at this moment. Fury emanated from him in nearly visible waves. Lizzy approached him silently and gently laid her hand on his arm.
He jolted in surprise and looked at her with such ferocity on his face that she flinched. “Leave me be, Elizabeth,” he commanded flatly in a voice that brooked no argument.
Nonetheless, she refused. “No,” she said firmly, “Talk to me, William.”
He stared at her in shocked ire at her refusal and then turned his gaze to the window. He fluttered the letter in the air. “My aunt is not pleased about our engagement,” he said with massive understatement.
Lizzy surprised him further by actually laughing, and his scowl increased. “I find no humor in this, Elizabeth.”
“Really, William! Did you imagine she would embrace me with open arms and host a party? Lady Catherine made her opinion of me quite clear at Longbourn, an event that we should essentially be thankful for since, left to your own devices, you may not have gotten up the nerve to propose again.” She said the last bit teasingly and rose onto her toes to kiss one cheek while caressing the other. He continued to stare at her, clearly torn between crushing her into his arms or further ranting about the letter. In the end he did neither. He sighed and walked several paces away before turning back to look at her. He was in turmoil and had no idea what to say.
Lizzy moved a bit closer to him but kept a space, sensing he needed some distance. “William, I am indifferent to what your aunt has to say about me or us. I love you with all my heart and you love me. She cannot alter that, can she?”
“Of course not!” he said in a strangled tone.
“She is angry at her dashed hopes for you and Anne. I am not a mother yet, however, I can partly sympathize. It does in no way justify her actions or words, but you must try to understand a little.”
Darcy shook his head. “Elizabeth, it is more than that. She has slandered you personally, your character and virtue and qualifications as my intended. This I cannot forgive.”
She drew closer before replying softly, “Did you not initially doubt my qualifications and connections, beloved?” His countenance paled and his mouth fell open at her words, and she rapidly closed the gap, taking his beloved face into her hands so he would not turn away. “The difference is that you now know my character and virtue and you love me. The only truth that matters is us and our love. The rest will resolve itself or it will not, but it is inconsequential as long as we are unified in our commitment.”
Darcy sighed again and rested his forehead against hers, arms enfolding her. “How are you so wise, my love, for one so young?”
She smiled impishly and kissed him lightly. “It is a secret, Mr. Darcy. You cannot expect a girl to reveal all too soon can you? Then where would the mystery be?”
He laughed. “Very well. I shall let Lady Catherine stew and rage if she must; however, I refuse to listen.”
Darcy waited a couple of weeks before he addressed his aunt. His letter was blunt and formal. In language that permitted no error, he informed her that he would forever revere her as his mother’s sister but that his loyalty was to Elizabeth. Until she accepted this incontrovertible fact and rendered his betrothed the esteem due her as Mistress of Pemberley and Mrs. Darcy, she would not be welcome in his life.
Unbeknownst to him at the time, Lady Catherine had been busy spreading her disgust to Lord and Lady Matlock, and anyone else who was willing to listen. The news of Mr. Darcy’s engagement had disseminated expeditiously through the ton, rumors galore based on little in the way of truth. Darcy’s supreme happiness conjoined with his general disdain for London society was such that he gave no consideration to what gossip may be circulating. The opinion of his uncle and aunt was another matter. In both instances, he confidently believed that Elizabeth’s charms would eventually prevail. The fortuitous trip to Town presented the opportunity for him to introduce his fiancée to the rest of his mother’s family.