The Trouble with Mr. Darcy by Sharon Lathan Page A

when the pleasure abated.
    Lady Catherine’s acerbic tongue and outward disdain toward Elizabeth were carefully curbed. During their first visit to Rosings, Lady Catherine’s subtle slurs led to a second confrontation, minor compared to the one in London shortly after their marriage. Nevertheless, Darcy’s barely controlled rage, now seen twice by his aunt, and promise to leave the area never to return effectively quashed her lingering ire toward Elizabeth. Or at least it prevented her openly declaring her scorn. Now the two women tiptoed around each other. Lizzy would never like her and received perverse joy in vexing her, even if the behavior was unbecoming. She just could not help herself and Darcy gave up scolding her for it. Besides, it was rather amusing—not that he would ever admit it—to see his aunt befuddled by his wife’s clever wit.
    “How can you allow your son, the heir to Pemberley, to wear such outlandish garments?” Lady Catherine indicated Alexander, who was running about the lawn with Rachel and Leah Collins, and the flowing tunic of Indian silk painted with jungle vines and monkeys that he wore.
    “We want him to be a free spirit.” Lizzy’s voice was gay, bordering on vapid. “And besides, it allows the genitalia to grow freely.” She tossed George’s words out, Lady Catherine’s lips puckering so tightly in response that Lizzy was forced to jump up and join the children in their play to avoid bursting into laughter.
    Another time: “You intend to walk to the village alone? In your condition? What does Fitzwilliam think of this?”
    “Of the walk or my ‘condition’?” Lizzy asked innocently.
    “Of you walking in your condition!”
    Lizzy shrugged. “I did not ask specifically about this walk, but usually he does not tend to inhibit my walking. And the ‘condition’ I am in does not seem to influence his attitude on the subject in a negative way, as far as I have been able to ascertain. It is partially his fault, after all, so he cannot very well argue my need for exercise, now can he?”
    Lizzy grabbed her bonnet by the strings, curtsied to Lady Catherine, and turned to make for the door.
    “Are you not going to put your hat on? The sun is bright and without hat or gloves on you will become tanned.” Lady Catherine uttered the word “tanned” as if the worst curse word imaginable. “I cannot imagine Fitzwilliam would be pleased at that.”
    “He has never complained before. But I promise that if he expresses any distaste, I shall henceforth don my bonnet from the outset.” She smiled brilliantly, curtsied again, and left—with the bonnet dangling by her side. Needless to say, Darcy did not mind her bronze skin in the least.
    Another time: “Here is your book, Elizabeth.”
    “Thank you, William.”
    “May I ask what you are reading, Mrs. Darcy?”
    “Of course, Lady Catherine. I am reading Evelina by Frances Burney. Have you read it?”
    “I most certainly have not,” Lady Catherine sniffed. “I prefer to read books of intellectual quality and strong moral lessons rather than the nonsensical romanticism of novels.”
    “As you have admittedly not read Evelina , how can you assert it is nonsensical? Romantic to be sure, but the titular character’s virtues and attention to upright morals in the face of difficulties are to be admired. Evelina is a lesson in etiquette and propriety.”
    Lady Catherine was not convinced. “I am surprised you would allow such reading material for your wife, Fitzwilliam.”
    “I do not dictate my wife’s reading material, Aunt Catherine. Her choices are invariably sound ones. Although in this case, I would disagree with Mrs. Darcy’s assessment. I found Evelina to be somewhat boring as a character. But perhaps my judgment is colored as I prefer women with spunk and a ready wit.”
    He smiled at his wife but did note his aunt’s incredulous expression. “You read this… novel?” she sputtered.
    “Indeed I have.”
    “He