by Anna Harlow
Darcy smiled. “Yes, you see quite well all of my difficulty. I have often remarked to Lady Catherine about my cousin’s unsuitability for the needs of myself or Pemberley. However, the woman never listens to a word I say.”
“Then I suppose I ought to wish you happy, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth, frowning slightly.
“You must not do so, Miss Elizabeth,” he protested. “For such a notion, especially coming from your lips, must be disagreeable to me.”
“How so, sir?” she replied sweetly.
Mr. Darcy was saved the trouble of explaining himself by the sudden appearance of the butler, Mr. Hill. “If it pleases the young ladies, your trunks are now loaded onto the coach, and the driver has expressed a desire to depart, so that you might reach your destination before dark.”
“We have wasted too much of the morning to fulfill that hope, I think,” Elizabeth commented dryly. “For does it not take half the day at least to get to the place?”
“Only if your horses travel at a highly sedentary pace,” said Mr. Darcy. “I should not think it would take more than six or seven hours at most to go a mere sixty miles. I have ridden there by horse in under three hours upon occasion, though at the time I was coming from London. I would not be too worried. You shall be in Kent before it is time for supper.”
“I thank you, sir, for your advisory,” Elizabeth said as she got to her feet. “Jane, I must insist it is not necessary to rouse this entire party just to see me leave.”
“Then perhaps just the gentleman and me?”
“Oh, very well,” Elizabeth agreed, sighing. For she had little desire to speak to either her father or her mother before she left, since her father was hiding in his library and her mother had yet to arise from her bed. “Tell Mama that I hope she shall soon feel well again. And be sure to remember she needs another draught for her nerves along with her tea. Shall I tell Mrs. Hill to remember, just in case?”
“Elizabeth Bennet, I know that you have never been away from our mother a day in your life, but surely you must remember that I know all of her troubles equally as well as you. I shall take care of her in her hour of need, never fear.”
“Forgive me,” said Elizabeth. “I fear that I am suddenly coming down with a bout of nerves now that I am meant to go. I had not thought I would be worried to leave home once the hour arrived.”
“Miss Bennet? Do not tell me that you have never departed from here?” Darcy exclaimed, surprised.
“Sir, neither Charlotte nor I have ever been outside of Hertfordshire,” Elizabeth replied. “But there must be a first time for everything. I am certain I shall endure.”
As they walked with Jane and Bingley toward the front door, Darcy caught at Elizabeth’s hand and wrapped it around his arm, escorting her. “I believe, my angel, that Kent must be a good place to visit on your first trip out, for should you become homesick while you are there, it would not be difficult to find your way back to Longbourn.”
She laughed. “Sir, I shall be perfectly all right, I assure you. Do not worry for me so. It will not do, you know. You might alarm me unduly when otherwise I might have remained sound.”
Darcy chuckled. “I know more of your fortitude than to believe anything of the sort. But you must forebear to accept my hopes for your safe and swift journey. I would not wish any injury or illness to befall a member of your party. I must admit, my dear, that Meryton without your presence will become quite dull rather quickly.”
“Do not attempt to work your flattery on me, sir,” Elizabeth scoffed dryly. “But still, if you should leave before my return, I shall be quite displeased. For then Mr. Bingley shall be deprived of his most favored company.”
“Mr. Bingley can get on quite well without me,” said Mr. Darcy.
Having reached the coach and finished saying every word that needed to be said, there only remained the need for the two young ladies to get into the coach along with Channing. Darcy was quick to reach out and take her hand, assisting Elizabeth up into her seat. Before he let go, he gave it a little squeeze.
Elizabeth gasped, and their eyes met and held. She felt the butterflies in full force, and as they drove on, she could not help but stare back at the gentleman until they passed through the gate and she could see him no longer.
“Elizabeth Bennet, do you still insist that you are avoiding Mr. Darcy? That looked more like you were very loath to be parted from his company at all,” Charlotte teased.
“Never say so,” she scoffed. “I was only being polite—for Jane’s sake. So I did not disgust Mr. Bingley. Certainly I cannot care for a gentleman who would withhold the inheritance of another man simply out of jealousy. However Mr. Darcy may choose to treat me, he used poor Mr. Wickham quite abominably. I cannot allow myself to like such a person just because he wishes it from me.”
“Such nonsense, Lizzy,” she insisted. “You like him quite well already.”
∞∞∞
“Poor Mr. Darcy, you have been quite forlorn all week,” said Caroline Bingley from where she sat lounging with a book on one of the sofas in a Netherfield parlor. Darcy had been pacing for a time, but now he stopped his movements and gazed out the window.
“What?” he asked, glancing over at her and frowning.
“I know what has got you in such a state, sir,” she continued to tease. “I have heard it said that Miss Eliza Bennet is reputed to be quite the local beauty, though I have never remarked upon it myself. To me, the lady has a kind of a conceited independence that I cannot like, but I suppose there are some who might say her eyes could be called fine. Perhaps, sir, it is that lady in particular who has dampened your joy upon taking her leave to Kent?”
“I can readily admit that Miss Elizabeth’s departure has brought on my melancholy,” said Darcy, beginning to pace once again. “Though I would not wish you to think it is the only thing which is troubling me. I have received a letter from Lady Catherine. She wished to remind me that Cousin Anne’s birthday party is coming up, and that I am meant to come help her celebrate.”
“Ah, there now, sir, that should be exactly the thing,” Caroline teased. “I dare say that it will be the first time in many years for you to be happy about paying a visit to Rosings.”
“But I worry that Elizabeth will believe I have purposely followed her there,” he said, sighing. “I do not want her to suspect my motives where she is concerned. I know not what Mr. Wickham may have told her, but ever since that dinner party she has distanced herself from me every bit as much as Miss King has shunned her former fiancé.”
“Come now, Mr. Darcy, you are a charming enough fellow. I’m sure that if you wanted to, you could easily win Miss Eliza over. Though for the life of me, I do not know why you should. For certainly you have no designs on marrying her. Or am I, perhaps, incorrect in such an assertion? Would you deign to marry a poor country girl with such a useless dowry and a mother who, when you first met her, was so disgusting to you that your mood was completely altered? Is it for me to wish you happy in such an endeavor?”
“I am leaving for Rosings in the morning,” said Darcy irritably as he headed for the door. “I wish to get an early start. I believe I shall wish everyone good night now.”
Chapter Ten
“Upon my word, I did not know we had a musician here,” called an amiable fellow in a red coat as he stepped into the music room at Rosings shortly after his arrival. “It is such a wonder, since I know Georgiana not to be around. Has my aunt recruited you instead somehow?”
Clearly, by the look of him, the gentleman was an officer, and Elizabeth did not think he had even gone upstairs since his arrival. His boots were still a little muddy and he was holding his hat in his hands.
“Sir, you are greatly deceived in that belief,” Elizabeth informed him. “I am but a fraud who has been practicing a whole week at the behest of Lady Catherine. She is your aunt, you say?”
“Indeed, yes,” he said, smiling at her. “Forgive me. I am Colonel Fitzwilliam, one of the Viscount’s
many sons. I dare say I ought to apologize for Lady Catherine right away. For surely she must have given you offense in some way or other if you have been languishing here so long.”
Elizabeth giggled. “The belief in your aunt’s perfidy is universal, I see.”
“Oh? Has somebody other than me dared to denigrate the old bird?”
“Sir, I have heard it from yet another of her nephews—one who seemed quite worried over my well-being,” she explained. “For you see, Mr. Darcy has lately been visiting with his friend Mr. Bingley in Meryton, where I reside with my family. Bingley has just taken up residence at Netherfield Hall. I am certain that your cousin only meant to warn me, lest I allow my fiery nature to get the best of me during one of her tirades.”
“Fiery nature?” He chuckled, glancing at her fingers where they rested on the keys. “Not too fiery, it seems, if you have been convinced to play the piano when you do not believe yourself ready. Let me hear you, then, and I shall be brutally honest.”
“Yes, please!” she agreed, laughing. “For I wish very much to improve before Easter, and it is only two days away!”
∞∞∞
Darcy had been in the house for less than half an hour before he overheard the sound of a piano. Sticking his head into his cousin’s room, where he knew Fitzwilliam would be, he asked, “Richard, who on earth is playing a piano? Has our aunt invited somebody inclined to music for a change?”
“I believe, sir, it is a garden angel,” Fitzwilliam teased, remembering the letter he had recently had from Darcy.
“Elizabeth?” he asked, blinking. “I must see this for myself, sir. Will you join me?”
“Most assuredly,” he said, smiling. “Spending time with Miss Bennet is a most enjoyable pastime, do you not agree?”
Darcy cast him a jaundiced eye as he said, “Just as long as it is not enjoyed too much, sir.”
Fitzwilliam’s laughter followed him all the way downstairs and across the hall.
“Miss Elizabeth?” called Darcy as he crossed the room and came to stand beside the piano, smiling. “My aunt has summoned me to Rosings for the holiday, as you can see. But, madam, I did not know that you could play. I thought that the skill at piano was a distinction held only by your sister Mary.”
“Mr. Darcy!” she gasped, blushing. “Yes, I do play a little, and very ill. Yet, thanks to my sister Kitty, your aunt learned of the skill, and now she insists that I must play for all of you on Easter Sunday. I admit, an instrument as fine as this one increases my desire to practice the skill, but still, I do not think I will be ready for the task for at least a month of Sundays. I fear I shall disgrace myself.”
“She is entirely too modest, sir,” Fitzwilliam explained. “Not only does she play well enough, but you ought to hear her sing.”
“Will you sing for us, my dear?” Darcy asked her hopefully.
Elizabeth’s cheeks became redder still. She couldn’t be sure if it was at the pleasure she gained from the manner in which he said “my dear” or if it was the thought of singing for the gentleman, but either way her heart began to thud harder than ever, and her hands began to tremble. How was she supposed to perform for him in such a state?
“I would not wish to frighten you away,” she teased him.
“However frightened I may become myself, I know that you, yourself, could never be,” he told her, smiling.
“Whatever can you mean by that?” asked Fitzwilliam curiously. “Tell me, Miss Elizabeth, what was my friend like while he was in Meryton?”
“Prepare yourself, sir, for a shocking tale.” Elizabeth chuckled. “At the first ball Mr. Darcy attended, he came in very ill humor and danced with no one at all, even though gentlemen were scarce and there were many young women in want of a partner.”
“I knew no one outside my own party,” Darcy excused himself. “And there were so many matchmaking mothers in the room, I feared for my personal safety.”
Elizabeth laughed. “In any case, he did make up for it at the Netherfield ball. I’ve no idea who else he may have danced with, but I know that at least once he danced with me.”
“I danced with no one else that evening,” Darcy replied.
“Well, Darcy, and you do not think Elizabeth’s matchmaking mother would find that singular?” Fitzwilliam teased him.
“I am certain that she did,” he replied stoically. “You must forgive me for such behavior, but I am ill qualified to recommend myself to strangers. It is an affliction I have suffered from infancy. When I am in a room filled with people I do not know, I tend to suffer greatly. My sister, Georgiana, seems to have the same issue. Yet Fitzwilliam certainly has no issues, so it must have been something that comes from my mother.”
Elizabeth scoffed. “Only if you learned it from her, sir. You should take your aunt’s advice, I think, though she was not speaking of your affliction at the time. She told me that I must practice in order to improve.”
“But, Miss Elizabeth, you have not yet begun to sing,” he pointed out. “Do you not wish to practice anymore today?”
“I certainly must practice,” Elizabeth said, sighing. “Lady Catherine wishes me to entertain her guests after dinner on Easter Sunday. I simply must practice if I am to do well.”
“I have every confidence in you, Miss Elizabeth,” said Fitzwilliam with a slight bow. “Shall I turn the pages for you again?”
“Yes, please do,” she agreed.
“And Darcy can be your audience,” he teased. “I have a feeling if you can successfully play in front of him, you are more than ready for the evening.”
Darcy watched her with avid eyes as she went through all five of the songs she had selected to play, though occasionally his expression became a bit sour as he looked at Fitzwilliam, since that gentleman was solicitously leaning in a bit more than he liked. Would that he could change places with him and turn the pages for the lady himself. Yet on this occasion, at least, he would have to please himself only with listening.
He supposed it was for the best. It would certainly not do for him to dance attendance on Elizabeth Bennet right in front of his aunt and cousin. For even though he had no intentions of honoring a betrothal cooked up by their two mothers, that didn’t make Lady Catherine any less adamant about their union, and he would certainly not wish to bring down her wrath on Elizabeth when the poor girl had done nothing to deserve it. No, it would be best if he stayed away from her, at least whenever his aunt was around.
Darcy never would have believed he was the kind of person who could get jealous of his own cousin over a woman. Especially since he knew firsthand that Fitzwilliam was not the sort of man who ever lost his head over a girl. Yet, seeing the way he watched Elizabeth as she played, and the close proximity of their two bodies, was enough to set his heart pounding with outrage. Had he not told Fitzwilliam that she was his garden angel? He ought to know that made her his. Clearly, he had not made certain that this was understood.
“Darcy? Fitzwilliam? I have been looking for you for quite some time now,” Lady Catherine complained as she stepped through the door. “Miss Bennet can surely practice without all of your attentions. I need you two to help me prepare the Easter decorations. Otherwise, I shall be obliged to work on them the entire day.”
“Coming, Aunt,” said Fitzwilliam, finally backing away from Elizabeth and giving Darcy a wink.
“I shall be along directly,” said Darcy, though he did not immediately leave.
Elizabeth stopped playing and cast him an amused glance. He had the distinct feeling that she knew precisely how annoyed he had been by the attentions Fitzwilliam had just been lavishing.
“If all of your page-turners are allowed such liberties, I should like very much to turn them for you the next time,” he said, smiling intently as he stepped up behind her.
Elizabeth blushed. “I don’t know what you mean, sir. I did not notice any liberties being taken, or I should have complained.”
“If I were to do this, you would notice nothing?”
he asked, leaning in and straightening up her pages in such a way that his chest just grazed the back of her shoulders.
“Surely Fitzwilliam did no such thing,” she rebuked him. “He was never that close to me.”
“Was he not?”
“If he did touch me, I certainly did not notice,” she insisted. “Then again, even if he did, I doubt it would be the same. I mean, he is just a lowly officer, isn’t he? Hardly the master of his own domain.”
“And which do you prefer, my dear?” he asked her, sliding his hands down from her shoulders to her elbows.
“What do you mean, sir?” she asked softly, her body trembling at the unexpected contact.
“The master or his lackey? For is not an officer meant to take orders for his living? Do you like a man of power or a man of action?”
“Can a man not be a little of each?” Elizabeth asked, smiling wickedly.
