They arrived at the parsonage gate, and Darcy bowed over Elizabeth’s hand. As he left, she sighed. Once again, she could not make him out at all. Fortunately, there were two such people just within who would rectify that feeling immediately.
*****
Darcy knocked on Anne’s sitting room door and looked up and down the hall, hoping no servant would see him.
“Yes?” she called out.
“It’s Darcy,” he said.
A memory of them as young children flashed in his mind. They would play “hide from the dragon.” Richard and his brother would never let Darcy hide with them. Anne, as a resident of Rosings, always knew the best places to hide. How often had he knocked on a wardrobe or cover and said, “It is me,” and she knew his voice immediately? Now, because of her mother’s scheming, they had grown into mere strangers.
Anne opened the door and also scanned the hallway. “Well?” she asked.
“I need to speak with you privately. Might I come in?” Darcy watched as Anne’s nervousness increased tenfold.
“If you must,” she said and walked toward the seating area.
She lowered herself slowly into a chair and motioned for Darcy to do the same. Sitting on the edge of her chair, as though prepared for flight at a moment’s notice, she stared at her hands rather than look at Darcy.
“I must ask for your assistance,” he began nervously.
Anne’s head shot up. She looked a mixture of relieved and sceptical. “You need my help? Whatever for?”
“Miss Bennet finds she must journey to London earlier than previously planned. Neither the Collinses nor her relatives in Town have a suitable conveyance. I have offered to escort her, but she will need a chaperone and use of one of your mother’s carriages as Richard has mine.”
Anne’s eyes widened, and she placed a hand protectively over her neck. “I cannot journey so far! London? No, never!” She looked ghost white, and she clenched the arms of her chair in terror.
Darcy gently touched her arm, causing her to jump. “Forgive me,” he said and drew it back. “I did not mean to alarm you.”
While some might fear confined places, Anne never did. No, she feared large groups of people. The result of being nearly trampled as a child when taken to see Macbeth with her father and a riot broke out due to an increase in ticket prices.
“Wha — what did you want then?” she asked, her chest still heaving but the fear easing.
“I wondered if you could arrange for a maid to accompany us. Miss Lucas will not wish to leave so early.”
“Oh, is that all?” Anne sagged against the chair in relief and looked younger than he had seen her in ages.
“That shall be hard enough without arousing the suspicion of your mother.” Darcy stood to leave.
“And what of my suspicions?” She said.
If it were not for the fact that Anne seldom left the vicinity of Rosings, Darcy would despise the way she sounded like her mother. As it was, she could hardly help it. Darcy raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
“You will not dally with Mrs. Collins’ friend, will you?”
“I hardly need to explain myself to you,” Darcy turned to go but at the last moment thought better of it. He was striving to be a better man because of Elizabeth’s rebuke.
“Forgive me,” he said and retook his seat.
Anne furrowed her brow, unaccustomed to him caring about her opinion.
“I assure you, I have nothing but honourable intentions toward Miss Bennet, but that is all there is worth saying at this moment.” He took a deep breath and pushed forward. “Anne, surely you know… That is, it can be no surprise…” Blast it. There was a reason he had never discussed the situation of her mother’s hopes before.
Anne squeezed her hands tightly and stared at her feet.
Respect. “No, I will not dictate to you as you have had done your whole life. I will not tell you how you must think or feel and will not presume to know better than you.”
Slowly, she lifted her eyes, tears misted them.
“It was wrong of me to avoid this conversation for so many years. Your mother has made her preferences quite known, and I suspect has even raised you to expect our union.”
Anne timidly nodded.
“I ask your forgiveness. I ought to have discussed my feelings long ago.”
“You love Miss Bennet,” she said with understanding.
“I do,” Darcy confirmed. “However, I had felt since my youth that I could not marry you.” She opened her mouth, but Darcy waved it off. “Please, do not disparage yourself. I do not find you wanting. Another man will be quite blessed to have you as a wife. You deserve a man who passionately adores you. I have always known I am not that man and believed I was doing you a service by not bowing to your mother’s wishes.”
Anne exhaled a long breath and tears streamed down her eyes. “Thank you,” she clapped her hands together. “Thank you! Thank you! I have lived in fear, in dread of your proposal for most of my life.”
Despite his relief that she did not resent his rejection, it stung to hear yet another lady wanted no part of his courtship. “Again, I apologise for not stating my feelings earlier.” He stood to depart.
“I can help you!” She called out as his hand reached for the doorknob. He turned back toward her. “I can assist you with Miss Bennet.”
“What makes you think I need your assistance?”
Anne laughed. “She has not the faintest clue you admire her. She would sooner expect Richard’s stallion to grow wings.”
“And you are an expert on matchmaking now?”
“Those who cannot wed, plan!” Anne exclaimed. “I will tell you a secret.”
Dutifully, Darcy returned to his seat and leaned forward as Anne motioned.
“I write for a ladies’ magazine. I am Mrs. Mabel Fairweather, mistress of hearts.” She scurried off to her desk and brought correspondence for him to inspect.
Darcy turned them over, recognising her penmanship. “I do not know what to say. You are accomplished beyond my wildest thoughts.”
“Now, you have begun your courtship on the wrong foot,” Anne grinned and retrieved her letters. “However, Elizabeth is a reasonable woman. She can be convinced to let the past remain there. She is prejudiced against your rank and wealth, and it does not help that she knows my mother,” Anne groaned at the thought.
Darcy silently added that Elizabeth’s other accusations involved Wickham and Bingley. “I have already determined I must show her and her relations greater respect.”
Anne nodded. “An excellent start. And how will you demonstrate this? Just wait for them to appear? Or to be brought up in conversation?”
Indeed, that was exactly his plan. Conversation was not his strong suit. Now, if only Society allowed him to demonstrate his passion for the lady…
“Do not fret,” Anne said. “We can practice some conversation and,” she waggled her eyebrows, “we can discuss the appropriate behaviour of suitors. You must not leave her in doubt of your regard.”
Darcy loosened his cravat. The ways in which he desired to show Elizabeth his affection were not suitable for a lady’s ears, or anyone really. He had long struggled with accepting that he could feel very carnal desire for Elizabeth and love her intellect and personality as well. He stood to leave.
“When do you see her again? I imagine in the morning. I have not seen her sketching as early as she used to.”
“She sketches?”
“Oh yes,” Anne nodded. “She favours the hill overlooking the village. In the distance, you can see the spires of Knole Park. It does not surprise me that she has an interest in architecture.”
Darcy grinned. A true bluestocking. Neglecting fashionable pursuits for “gentlemen’s art.” She could not be more perfect for him than if he had intended to find a wife upon his entering Hertfordshire. He might have searched for many years before finding her.
“We do often meet in the grove,” Darcy answered neutrally.<
br />
“Do not go tomorrow,” Anne said. “Leave her wishing she had seen you. Visit me, and we will discuss how to proceed.”
“Thank you,” Darcy said, uncertain he should encourage her meddling in his life.
“And where the devil did you send Richard?”
“He had business in London. He hopes to return soon.”
“Yes, well, Mother pesters me more about you when he is absent.” Anne waved a hand. “You may go.”
Darcy, at last, left her sitting room, marvelling how much she was like her mother, and yet, that was not an entirely bad thing.
Chapter Ten
Dearest C—
Do not fall prey to melancholy again. Let education be your comfort. I will quote Mr. Akenside, who we so lately lost.
Man loves knowledge, and the beams of truth
More welcome touch his understanding’s eye
Than all the blandishments of sound his ear,
Than all of taste his tongue.
Yours,
A.F.
The following morning, Elizabeth left the parsonage earlier than before. Mr. Collins had said no more insulting words, but it would take far more than a day for her to forget his unjust reproofs. Instead, he glared at her as much as possible. Now and then he asked after her reading selections. Charlotte suggested Elizabeth peruse Lady Catherine’s library. It called to mind Miss de Bourgh’s words on the subject as well.
Elizabeth blew a wayward tendril from her face as she laboured up the hill behind Rosings at an unladylike speed. If life had been different and treated women as equal as men, Jane would inherit Longbourn. Elizabeth and her younger sisters would find professions to make their way in the world. Instead, as females, they were little better than property and expected to marry. As such, their mother viewed every male as a prize. With Elizabeth’s combination of vivaciousness and good sense, she made friends of both sexes the most easily out of the Bennet daughters. However, even she had to admit she viewed male specimens primarily from the consideration of marital partners. Mr. Darcy, who had dismissed her for the enjoyment of a mere dance let alone as a suitable spouse, earned her immediate loathing. While she had fumed at the injustice of his words, she had done the same to him.
Immediately, Bingley seemed a probable match for Jane. Collins’ unsuitability had been clear since his first letter. Wickham had seemed promising and worth her interest, but his income too insufficient. She had seen as much early enough in their acquaintance that it required no exertion to prevent her heart from falling in love with him. By the time her Aunt Gardiner had suggested the same at Christmas, Elizabeth was in no danger. Instead, he had become a gentleman Elizabeth believed she could call a friend when she had been disappointed by so many others in so few weeks.
Yet, now Elizabeth knew Wickham was a cad while Darcy had layers of complexity she had never considered. He had not been innocent in forming Bingley’s defection, but neither had he forced his friend’s hand. Elizabeth acknowledged, that if she saw the imprudence in greater affection for Mr. Wickham after a month’s acquaintance, surely Bingley had as much right to reconsider his attentions toward Jane after the same passage of time. She did not like that Jane had been found unworthy. It was not fair, but perhaps it was just.
Perhaps Bingley — and even Darcy — had disliked admitting the truth of the Bennets’ situation in life just as much as she had Wickham’s. Of course, for Wickham, Elizabeth had fixated on Darcy as the cause for Wickham’s distress. The Bennet ladies had no conveniently-placed person to blame for their situation. Some nameless ancestor many generations ago first put an entail on Longbourn cutting off the female line and each generation had continued the provision. Elizabeth had never wasted her anger on what was such a common practice. But now, she detested the men who could decide so entirely the fate of her family. She hated the master from those centuries ago who now wounded his own kin, and she hated the men walking among them who never passed laws considering the care of their mothers and daughters, their sisters and wives.
At this moment, she hated so many. She hated nameless creatures near and far. She hated Charlotte and her husband. She hated Bingley for hurting Jane. She detested Lady Catherine and her insipid daughter. She loathed that her father never reined in her younger sisters and mother. As such, not only were they now prey for Wickham, but had likely cost Jane the affection of Mr. Bingley. She abhorred Darcy — mostly for not being the arrogant man she had assumed. However, she reserved her greatest repugnance for herself.
Although raised in a large family, Elizabeth often needed solitude to gather her thoughts. Jane was the closest thing she had to a confidant among her sisters, and there was much they did not see eye to eye on — such as Charlotte’s marriage and, until recently, Miss Bingley’s friendship. Jane saw goodness everywhere. In contrast, Elizabeth harboured far less charitable thoughts about the world although, unlike her mother, she also had the good sense to not air them. Nor did she think like Mr. Darcy. He saw little good but equally disapproved. Elizabeth enjoyed the follies of others. Sir William could never be called intelligent, but he had always been jolly and friendly. Despite her affront, Elizabeth knew he meant no harm with his words the other week regarding her marriage prospects.
Elizabeth settled herself on the grass and laid out her drawing materials. Thankfully, no wind blew. She looked at the view and saw Westerham. In the distance, she could see the tallest spire of Knole House. She had read that it was considered a Calendar House. Very rare, they were built with references to the calendar. Some homes had three hundred and sixty-five windows and fifty-two rooms. As one of the largest homes in England, Knole House reported three hundred and sixty-five rooms, fifty-two staircases, twelve exterior doors, and seven courtyards.
Elizabeth was not impressed by the wealth of the structure and its furnishings or artwork. Nor did she care about the noble family who resided there. Once the property of an Archbishop of Canterbury, it had long been in possession of the Dukes of Dorset. Instead, she was intrigued by the architecture. How much engineering would it take to build such a massive home? What unique secrets did it hold?
Elizabeth loved the architecture of centuries past. She tired of the symmetrical lines of the current fashion. Recreating Greek and Roman spaces never seemed to fit in England. It seemed far too artificial to place those buildings here as though one would mistake Kent for Italy. Additionally, she enjoyed the unexpected and incongruities in life. She lamented that society stood rigidly, and their expectations of behaviour were no different than their tastes in buildings. Everyone must fit into certain moulds. Like a mason pouring clay into his cast, any undesirable excess can be scraped off and cast aside.
The Bennets were hopelessly a family of excesses. They nearly exceeded their income with their impulsive purchases. They exceeded acceptable manners by unreserved feelings and high spirits. Even Mary, although quiet, gave in to her feelings too much by choosing to ignore others and read or desired to sermonise at inappropriate times.
While Elizabeth reined in her emotions better, she felt them intensely. She had disliked Darcy immensely, and imprudently welcomed Wickham’s lies. The only one who acted with any sense was Jane, and yet, it seemed to only break her heart. Darcy had said that both he and Bingley could not determine if Jane had any feelings for Bingley beyond friendship. It appeared Charlotte had been correct and Jane should have been less reserved. Now, after so many months of separation, it seemed Bingley felt nothing for Jane.
An alarming though built in Elizabeth’s mind. In comparison to all other Bennets, Jane was very reserved. It would not take much to consider her reserve, in light of such a family propensity for liveliness, to be emotionless. Elizabeth had not acted as foolishly as Lydia, but she did mock Darcy and Miss Bingley often, and frequently to their faces. Indeed, she could not hoist the blame of her family’s behaviour on others. If Elizabeth had acted more carefully, then perhaps Darcy and Bingley would have taken more care to investigate Jane’s feelings. T
hey would see that of the five daughters, two were different. Instead, Elizabeth’s poor behaviour could have directly affected her sister’s chance at happiness with Mr. Bingley.
Elizabeth ceased her sketching and pulled her knees to her chest, resting her head atop them. She had, at last, restored some of her opinion of Mr. Bingley. Darcy was now excused from nearly all complaints she had against him. If she could forgive Bingley and find him innocent, then Darcy was by extension as well. Her only complaint that had any merit was his behaviour the night of the first ball, and that he had not only explained but apologised for.
Now, Mr. Darcy attempted to help her regarding Wickham and his possible schemes against her family. She ought to forgive him for his first slight. He had more than made up for it with his attention to her since then. It was not as though he paid every lady in Hertfordshire or Kent the same attention.
The thought which should have soothed, gnawed at her. Was his kindness to her due to the guilt he felt? His absence today in the grove was a testament of such. He would have nothing to report yet and had no need to speak with her. In such a situation, she ought to be grateful, but she could not be. She would rather have merited his good opinion and respect. Instead, she was nothing more than a call on his honour. If she were less selfish, she would release him but not until after she learned the truth of Wickham and heard of Lydia being safe.
As the sun climbed high in the sky, Elizabeth gave up her intentions to draw. It now cast shadows over her view, and she rather thought it did over her life as well. Her family was whole and healthy. No calamity had struck them, and yet it did not mean they were happy or content. Nothing short of a crisis would jerk any of them out of their behaviour and, for that, shadows loomed over their sunlight. When Elizabeth had gathered the mental fortitude to return to the parsonage, she stood and vowed she would be an exception to her family. Unlike her drawings of old buildings, which a rare contemporary man might find value in replicating, Society would level people off and force them into their rectangular moulds then paint them all with the same shade of stucco. She had better amend her ways now before she was too old to do so.
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