by Jennifer Joy
The closer they rode to Meryton, the more difficult conversation became as the portrait in Darcy’s mind of Miss Elizabeth was soon to become reality. Her fine eyes were so much more vibrant and expressive in reality than in his dreams. Two weeks had been an eternity and he vowed to himself never to part from her company for such an extended time again.
His horse pulled against the bit, responding to Darcy’s impatience. Had he not been convinced of the sincerity of Miss Elizabeth’s character (after all, her values were similar to his own) he never would have endured the suffering of separation.
His cousin Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam shook his head and chuckled. “The two of you are a pretty pair. Control your emotions and you will gain control of your mount.”
It stung Darcy’s pride to receive instructions in equestrianism from his cousin, but Richard was right. Of course, Richard had not had much opportunity to know Miss Elizabeth. He had not witnessed her strength of character, her dazzling wit, her indefatigable loyalty, or her humor under adversity. Richard would soon understand his reasons for wishing to hasten their return to Meryton. As well as their stop in London — unnecessary, but entirely worth the sparkle it would bring to Miss Elizabeth’s fine eyes.
Slowing their stallions to a walk as they passed the vicarage leading into the village, Darcy pulled out his pocket watch for the tenth time in the past hour. It was entirely within the realms of possibility for Miss Elizabeth to have walked into Meryton on this fine day. She often did so.
They rode by the post office, approaching the haberdashery toward the stables. His groom, who had accompanied them from London, nodded at the stable owner. Darcy looked across the square and to the corner where Miss Elizabeth’s Aunt Philips resided. Was she visiting her aunt? Pity he could see nothing through the windows.
A bell tingled from the doorway beside him and he sensed her. The disinterested manners he had trained himself to adopt told him to temper his smile. Blast it all! With a wide grin, he turned his horse, leapt to the ground, and doffed his beaver hat before Richard could turn his horse.
Miss Elizabeth looked every bit as pleased to see him as he felt on seeing her, and his heart soared at the knowledge of her delight clearly expressed on her resplendent countenance.
Chapter 2
Sunbeams surrounded her smiling face, reflecting streaks of auburn hair at her temples and casting a fiery glow around her head. How appropriate. Miss Elizabeth was much too lively to be considered angelic, and Darcy was well aware that a life together with her would be as full of lively disquietude as it would be full of passion and bliss.
"Miss Elizabeth," Darcy said, drawn to her like a moth to the flame.
The corners of her eyes creased upward and she clutched her bonnet between her hands. "Mr. Darcy. How good it is to see you again." She paused long enough for him to appreciate the sincerity in her words. "Did you have a pleasant trip?" Her eyes wandered from him to his horse, to Richard and back.
Ah, there it was! He had suspected her inquisitive nature would move her to ask. Though he dearly wished to satisfy her, it would be a disservice to speak prematurely and risk lessening her pleasure when it was time to reveal what he had done.
He must be vague. "I did, I thank you. Richard and I delivered our prisoner to Hertford without any inconveniences." He knew very well she did not care so much about that part of his trip.
“Did you spend all this time in Hertford?” she inquired discreetly.
“Hardly.” He pinched his lips to keep from smiling at her growing frustration. He loved the way she wrinkled her nose. It did not occur to her to pout or use the other degrading feminine devices most ladies depended upon to get what they wanted.
Instead, she laughed. "Very well, Mr. Darcy. It is clear to me you wish certain things to remain secret, and so I shall content myself with your return, made all the better with the addition of Colonel Fitzwilliam. Are you well, sir?" she asked Richard.
Richard now stood next to Darcy, and he swooped an exaggerated bow. "Thank you, Miss Elizabeth. I am better now we are here. Darcy would have me riding all over England otherwise, and I much prefer to spend some time in leisure during my leave."
"Will you be staying long, Colonel?"
Richard's smile deepened to a grin. "I have heard of the many lures of Hertfordshire. My aim is to ascertain if these rumors are true."
Darcy felt his ears burn. It certainly had gone well for himself and his friend Charles Bingley. In fact, it would not surprise him if his capricious friend had already proposed marriage to the eldest Miss Bennet during his absence. Bingley's heart often acted before he could properly consult his mind, but in this case, Darcy felt certain Miss Bennet would not deny his impulsive nature. Mrs. Bennet, on the other hand … she was another matter entirely.
As if his thoughts had conjured her, the bell on the door of the haberdashery rang again and out walked Mrs. Bennet, dragging Miss Mary along with her.
"Lizzy, the emerald clip suits you best. I asked Mrs. Burk to set it aside for us. Oh, Mr. Darcy, how lovely it is to see you," said Mrs. Bennet, as if she had not seen them. She tugged on Miss Mary’s arm while her eyes looked Richard up and down, nodding her head in approval at what she saw. To be fair, Richard did strike an authoritative air even in plain clothes.
Mrs. Bennet looked between himself and his cousin, clearly wanting an introduction. At least, she had grace enough not to ask directly.
“And who is your friend, Mr. Darcy?” she asked, one hand firmly holding Miss Mary at her side and the other smoothing over her bodice and fiddling with the ribbon from her bonnet.
So much for manners. He would have to get used to that.
"Allow me to introduce my cousin Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam."
"A colonel!" squawked Mrs. Bennet.
After she quieted enough for Darcy to continue their introductions, Richard bowed as he would to a superior officer. Addressing Mrs. Bennet and the grave Miss Mary, he said, "I apologize for the delay in introductions. My last visit here was so brief and turbulent, I fear I was obliged to leave before making your acquaintance. I am pleased to see that breach of friendship remedied, and I trust my cousin to ensure sufficient opportunities to associate with your good family."
That pleased Mrs. Bennet so greatly, she shoved Miss Mary a touch too enthusiastically, nearly sending the poor girl tumbling forward into Richard’s arms. Fortunately for all involved — with the exception of Mrs. Bennet, of course — Miss Elizabeth had anticipated her mother’s move and had steadied Miss Mary before she toppled over.
Not one to be easily discouraged, Mrs. Bennet asked, "And is there a Mrs. Fitzwilliam waiting for you at the barracks, Colonel?"
She ought to have asked that question before attempting to arrange a public embrace.
Darcy saw Miss Elizabeth's jaw set. Their courtship would not be an easy one with Mrs. Bennet's constant interference. Especially with Miss Elizabeth's tendency to act contrary to her mother's wishes. Not that Darcy could blame her.
The colonel took her impertinent question in his stride. "Alas, I am as yet unattached. The life of a soldier's wife is a difficult one, and there are not many young ladies who wish to live in a state of constant uncertainty and disturbance when they could marry a gentleman with a steady home."
Mrs. Bennet positively beamed. "My Mary never fusses. She believes life's trials are sent by God to strengthen our character. Is that not right, Mary?" She looked to Miss Mary as if to affirm she had quoted her correctly.
Miss Mary, the pious sister destined for a life of solitude, glared at her. Perhaps she was not the mindless, sermonizing puppet Darcy had believed her to be. If she possessed a fraction of the intelligent spark he admired in Miss Elizabeth, there may be hope for her yet. Just not with Richard.
It was unfortunate, but Richard needed to marry a lady with a greater dowry than any of the Misses Bennet possessed. Mrs. Bennet’s insinuations were for naught.
Before anyone could react or think of an appr
opriate retort — a difficult feat as there was very little appropriate about Mrs. Bennet — the lady herself continued. "How fortuitous you should arrive at this precise moment. Kitty, whom you know is soon to marry Mr. Denny. He is an officer too, Colonel," she added, delighted in the common ground she had made between two distinct officers with too little in common to merit her comparison.
“The militia is quite different from His Majesty’s Army, Mama,” Elizabeth clarified.
Mrs. Bennet harrumphed, plopping her fists on her hips. “They both carry swords and wear dashing uniforms.”
As if that explained anything.
Fortunately for all present, Mrs. Bennet returned to a topic she could speak of with more authority. “Kitty has acquired a lovely bit of lace for her dress, and I daresay she will be the most beautiful bride Meryton has seen since I wed Mr. Bennet. You may not know it now, but I was quite the beauty in my day.” Mrs. Bennet looked at them intently, clearly searching for a compliment.
Darcy would leave that for Richard to handle. His cousin had a pleasant turn of phrase, whereas Darcy typically gave cause for offense when he spoke what was on his mind. Character, which was of far superior value and more enduring than looks, ought to grow, nourishing love and devotion with the passing of the years. He knew such an attachment was possible and he would settle for nothing short of the best. Nor did he expect Miss Elizabeth to accept anything less.
"Clearly, you speak the truth, madam, as your aspect is reflected well in your charming daughters." Richard nodded his head, adding to the certainty of his statement.
Mrs. Bennet gushed and fanned her face, which was flushed with flattery. "We do hope you stay in Meryton for the winter, Colonel Fitzwilliam. With the regiment leaving two days hence, we will suffer from a lack of their gaiety unless you stay to add to our cheer."
As if Richard's sole duty in life was to add to others' merriment. Darcy felt his patience wearing thinner with each crass comment Mrs. Bennet made.
Richard must have felt it too. With a polite bow, he gestured toward Darcy’s groom for the reins of his horse and added, "I aim to please," in a tone confirming it was time to depart.
Mrs. Bennet, senseless to all things proper, but acutely aware of all things pertaining to an available gentleman when she still had unmarried daughters, said hurriedly, "I do not suppose you would do my daughters the honor of seeing them safely home? They expressed their desire to return to Longbourn, but the other girls and I must remain to make arrangements for Kitty’s upcoming wedding feast with Mrs. Philips. What with Mr. Wickham's recent murder, I am uneasy when they do not have a protector to see them arrive home without being assaulted and ravaged."
Elizabeth's cheeks colored as red as holly berries. "Mama, surely Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam would rather continue to the inn. They must be tired after their journey, having only just arrived in Meryton."
Knowing she would object to her mother’s suggestion and wishing to ease her embarrassment, Darcy said, "We would be honored to see both Miss Elizabeth and Miss Mary to wherever they choose to go. We only came from London and have no need to go to the inn immediately."
Mrs. Bennet clapped her hands together. "Then it is settled. Thank you, gentlemen, for your thoughtfulness toward my daughters in seeing them home unharmed."
“Think nothing of it,” was all Darcy could say. After all, it had been her idea, not his. Still, he relished the opportunity to walk beside Miss Elizabeth and for that he would endure Mrs. Bennet’s blatant manipulations.
A flash of mischief crossed Miss Elizabeth's face. "Actually, Mama, Mr. Darcy kindly offered to take us anywhere we choose to go. Miss Lucas is recently returned from her aunt’s in London, and I would dearly love to pay a call on her today.”
Darcy bit his lips together as Mrs. Bennet's face contorted in frustration.
"I hardly think it appropriate for you to bring two gentlemen unknown to Miss Lucas on your call," she objected.
"Mr. Darcy is not a stranger to Sir William and Lady Lucas, nor I believe is Colonel Fitzwilliam." Elizabeth looked to Richard for confirmation.
"Tis true. I had the pleasure of meeting Sir William at the informal inquest before departing for Hertford."
Mrs. Bennet puffed a strand of hair off her forehead. "If you insist, I suppose there is nothing I can say to prevent you from calling at Lucas Lodge. They are a good family and dear friends of ours, even if they are a bit dull at times. Miss Lucas is rather plain, but she cannot help it."
"Mama!" exclaimed Miss Elizabeth.
For her sake, Darcy pretended not to have heard. Instead, he gave instructions for his groom to follow them with the horses so he and Richard might ride back into Meryton after seeing the ladies first to Lucas Lodge, and then to Longbourn. In light of events too recent to ignore, Darcy would not allow Miss Elizabeth to walk without a suitable companion (which Miss Mary, with her pocket-sized book of sermons already in front of her nose, was certainly not) when it was in his power to prevent her from doing so. On that point, at least, he could agree with Mrs. Bennet.
Chapter 3
Elizabeth took what felt like a first breath since her mother had joined them with Mary outside the shop. To her immense relief, Mr. Darcy pretended not to hear her mother’s parting comment about Miss Lucas. That he did so was a kindness to her.
Mary, having no option but to join them, looped her arm through Elizabeth’s and whispered behind her book of sermons, "If Mr. Darcy still admires you, and I do not doubt that he does — a man such as he does not change his mind once it is decided — you should not hesitate to accept his offer. You would be hard pressed to find another gentleman of morality and good sense willing to put up with our mother."
"Mary!" Elizabeth hissed, peeking over the pages to see Mr. Darcy still occupied with his groom and Colonel Fitzwilliam. "You know how I feel about the subject. Now is hardly the time to discuss it." Since when did Mary know so much about her and Mr. Darcy anyway? Had she listened at the top of the stairs while Elizabeth and Father had discussed it at length? She narrowed her eyes at her sister, who merely held her book closer to her nose and shrugged.
"Love is a gift from God and the greatest emotion. I will not debate its value with you, but I do question why you doubt you could fall in love with a man such as Mr. Darcy when by all appearances, you love him already."
Elizabeth could easily have asked what Mary knew about love, but she kept silent lest they be overheard. What Mary also did not know was how deeply Elizabeth had despised Mr. Darcy for faults of which he had proved himself innocent; how they had been trapped in Mr. Bingley’s library together, providing him with an alibi when Mr. Wickham was found murdered at the barracks but were unable to use unless they admitted to their compromise. That had happened less than a month ago and, while Elizabeth’s regard for Mr. Darcy had improved dramatically, rooted in respect and trust, she had requested more time. And there was no sense lamenting it now.
Instead, she observed how Mr. Darcy spoke with his groom. His posture was not condescending nor did he behave in a dismissive manner. He had handed the reins over gently and listened when his groom asked a question, which was interesting in itself. Most servants avoided eye contact and did their best to carry out their duties unobserved, but Mr. Darcy's groom stood tall and spoke directly to his master. Man to man. As dignified adults of all stations should do.
With a final nod, the groom retrieved several packages wrapped in paper from a leather bag and handed them to Mr. Darcy, who received them with thanks. His politeness to a humble groomsman warmed Elizabeth's heart. Maybe Mary was right. Was she a fool for making him wait?
Mr. Darcy walked toward them, a dignified eagerness in his step. His earnest smile lit up his face and caressed her hesitant heart. Would he look at her thus always?
"If you will indulge me, I want to take this opportunity to see if these volumes are suitable for Mr. Bennet."
"You got books for my father?" That had been thoughtful. Judging from the si
ze of two of the tomes, they would be highly appreciated by Father.
Mary lowered her book and reached out to accept the package Mr. Darcy extended to her. "Please, open it. I know Mr. Bennet enjoys political satire and botany, as well as more philosophical works, but this might not be quite to his liking."
Mary tucked her sermon book in her pocket and unwrapped the larger tome with deft, eager fingers.
Running her hand over the imprinted title, a smile grew over her face.
"The cultivation of roses," she said under her breath. To Mr. Darcy, she said, "You are a keen observer. We have one thriving rosebush at Longbourn, but it is not my father who cares for it."
Mr. Darcy did not look surprised in the least. "Perhaps, if you do not consider the reading enticing to your father, you might think of someone else in the household who might enjoy it?" He looked intently at Mary, whose cheeks brightened to match the delicate hues of her precious roses.
"I can, indeed. Thank you, Mr. Darcy."
His eyes danced in merriment as he handed Elizabeth the thinnest volume. Her gloved hand brushed his, sending a spark flaming through her body.
"Perhaps I will have greater success with this book," he said, causing Elizabeth's blood to warm. Not for a moment did she believe the last book had been for Father. He knew Mary would like it and had only conjured an appropriate way to extend the gift to her in such a way she might accept it. He was confident in his gift, and his thoughtfulness toward her oft neglected sister did not go unnoticed by Elizabeth.
She pulled back the brown paper, holding her breath. Mary had received a gift … Had Mr. Darcy selected this novel especially for her?
"Palmyra by Thomas Love Peacock?" She held the book of poems up, puzzled.
"I had the good fortune to meet Mr. Peacock during a spell in Wales last year. He is certain to become a great political satirist, and I thought Mr. Bennet might enjoy some of his first works before they become popular."
