Posted on 2010-03-31

Lady Catherine de Bourgh was used to getting her own way.

As firstborn of an earl, she had quickly established herself as sovereign of the nursery and refused to cede the reins when other children were born. Even the presence of the nanny, and later the governesses and tutors, failed to stem her demands. Her younger sister Lady Anne and her younger brothers, soon upon their advents into the earl's household, grew accustomed to life under the thumb of dictatorial Lady Catherine. Her two years as the only child had certainly given her a taste for tyranny.

When Lady Catherine desired food, it was brought to her. When she wanted a fire started, it was set. When her hair did not look good in ringlets, she ordered it straightened and it was done. When she wished it to be fine and instead it rained, she threw a fit until the sun came out again. Nothing and no one dared question her orders.

There was no need for Lady Catherine to have more than one season. She was presented at court in her seventeenth year, decided which of the courtiers she desired most, and had her parents arrange it. She did not need to choose a high-ranking peer: a baronet was sufficient for her, especially as Sir Lewis de Bourgh was influential and possessed of the finest estate of the available bachelors. Certainly, it was not the finest universally -- that was, without question, Pemberley in Derbyshire, but Mr. Darcy was a married man and so it could not be got. Lady Catherine did not wish for things that were impossible.

And so she married Sir Lewis. He was a fairly malleable man, and Lady Catherine soon found herself in the comfortable position of autocrat again. It is true that Sir Lewis was a little slow at conforming to her demands. She often had to threaten him and throw fits, and to refuse to speak with him for several weeks. But eventually she was satisfied.

Such was the case with her desire for children. Lady Catherine wanted two boys and one girl. Certainly, that should not have been a difficult thing to produce. But Sir Lewis, as wont, did not comply as quickly as she preferred. He would even say such things as that it could be her fault, or that the timing was not right, or that he needed to share her bed. But Lady Catherine refused to accept such excuses. It was no doubt simply that he wasn't trying hard enough.

He certainly didn't try hard enough when she told him she wished he were dead. It took him nearly two years to comply after that awful, disgusting repeat of their wedding night -- and Lady Catherine certainly did her best in the meantime to make sure he understood her displeasure with his intransigence. When he did finally submit to her demand after malingering for nearly a week, he was even so rude as to have not completed her previous request. Only one daughter was certainly not what she had asked for.

But it was true that a daughter was a way she might be able to get Pemberley. She had never lost sight of that magnificent estate, especially as her younger sister Lady Anne had gotten her claws into it when she married the recently widowed Mr. Darcy. All that talk about love and whatnot; Lady Catherine knew as well as anyone that her sister had fallen in love with the property, not the man. Though, for years, she could not understand why her sister and brother were so slow in making the changes to the grounds she suggested. It seemed always like one excuse or another; they were as thoughtless as Sir Lewis.

But they were, indeed, more efficient than him in their procreation: they had an heir within their first year of marriage. True, it took them nearly twelve more years to produce a second child, and Lady Anne was so inconsiderate as to die after giving birth, but the boy was what was important -- he was the ideal age for Anne.

Things were going perfectly. Lady Catherine had Rosings, she had full control of that estate, she had a daughter who would inherit it, and she had a plan for gaining Pemberley, as well. Nothing could go wrong.

Well, until that dreadful Elizabeth Bennet had the audacity to visit her friend at Hunsford. From that point on, nothing seemed to be right.

At first, Lady Catherine had hardly noticed. True, there were those pert replies she was so quick to throw out, and her tendency to impertinence, and her irritating habit of drawing the interest of her nephews away from their more appropriate attentions to her daughter. But in the end Lady Catherine had won -- the young gentlemen had stayed four days entire later than usual, and it was clear that Darcy, at least, was very disappointed to be leaving.

But then -- oh! Lady Catherine still could not believe it! -- that little fortune hunter stole her own nephew from under her very nose! Just when it had seemed as if Lady Catherine's dreams of a marriage between the two houses would be accomplished, that sly young woman had schemed her way into his -- well, Lady Catherine wasn't sure what the appeal had been. Honor? Lust? It certainly could not have been any rational arguments that had moved him to offer for her. There was no attraction! Certainly not compared to Anne de Bourgh, heiress of Rosings Park. The very thought was impossible.

And so Lady Catherine had refused to attend the wedding. There would be no notice from her. Not when they were so horridly unresponsive to her advice, to her well-meaning counsel, to her more clearly formed opinions on what was right. It was not her place to bend to others. They did not cede to her requests, they would not benefit from her attentions in the future.

"So you must understand," Lady Catherine continued, "how absolutely necessary it is that you repot your plants again. Your mother may have taught you differently, but I am afraid that she was simply not correct. You shall have one of your servants remove the plant, taking care to prune any damaged roots, and replace the soil with fresh earth to exactly an inch below the edge of the pot. You may have your servant come to Rosings and seek guidance from my head gardener to ensure that it is done correctly. I have thoroughly trained my servants to be exact in their repotting. And you must carefully observe them during the process to be certain it is done to my specifications." She paused, taking in Mrs. Collins' properly humbled and contrite countenance. "I shall not be opposed on this matter. I expect your plants to be properly repotted by the end of this week. Are we clear, Mrs. Collins? I do not wish to find that my guidance went unheeded."

Mrs. Collins, with a murmured apology and a curtsey, thanked Lady Catherine for her condescension before retreating from the drawing room. This was the second time this week she had been called on the carpet for not fulfilling Lady Catherine's increasingly minor demands. It was the millionth time since the Darcys' wedding five months before that she had heard Lady Catherine's warning of the dire consequences of disobedience. Mrs. Collins could only hope that her letters to her friend Elizabeth Darcy would soon bear fruit. Otherwise, Lady Catherine would soon be wearing one of those perfectly potted plants for a crown.

Pausing on the path back to the parsonage, Mrs. Collins thought about this further, but then decided against the action -- it would only give her ideas.