To Conquer Pride

by Jennifer Altman

  The last man in the world…

  Darcy shook his head, trying to clear away the memory. Then again, that was before the accident. She had been so attentive when they were together at the cottage… But compassion was not love. And he could not forget her behavior the night at the theater. If her heart was engaged elsewhere… The mere thought made Darcy’s insides ache. No, he could never do that to her. He would rather die by slow inches than see her trapped in a marriage not of her choosing.

  “Mr. Darcy? What say you, sir?” Mr. Bennet’s voice broke through Darcy’s thoughts and he turned away from the hearth.

  “No.”

  Mr. Bennet’s eyes widened. “Forgive me, I do not understand.”

  “Then I shall be more clear. If you are asking me to force your daughter into a marriage she does not desire, the answer is no.”

  “You are refusing?”

  “Yes.”

  “Darcy!” Bingley yelped, jumping to his feet and placing a calming hand on Mr. Bennet’s shoulder as the older gentleman stepped in Darcy’s direction. “It is only a precaution. Of course, none of us expect it shall ever come to pass.”

  But Darcy shook his head, turning his full attention back to Elizabeth’s father.

  “Mr. Bennet, I will do everything in my power to protect your daughter and to preserve her reputation. On that, I give you my word. But I am sorry. I will not marry her.”

  ***

  He had refused.

  The door to Elizabeth’s bedchamber closed with a hollow click and she collapsed against it, borrowing support from the wooden paneling. Sinking to the floor, she stared into the gathering darkness, slowly coming to terms with what she should have realized months ago: Mr. Darcy no longer possessed the feelings he had laid claim to at the parsonage last April. She had been given her chance, and she had thrown it away.

  Harsh laughter tickled her throat as she shook her head at her own foolishness. This was her fault, and no one else’s. She had sealed her fate when she refused his proposal. No man, especially not one as proud as Mr. Darcy, would ever offer for the same woman a second time.

  A sob slipped from her throat, but despite the grief that twisted her stomach, she knew that her punishment was just. She had sown her bitter oats in resentment and conceit, and now she must reap the consequences.

  Struggling to her feet, Elizabeth wrenched her trunk from the foot of her bed, tugging gowns from her wardrobe and tossing them inside. She would leave this place, as soon as may be. Indeed, she could not stay in London another moment—not when she ran the risk of crossing paths with Mr. Darcy; or worse, opening a news-sheet and reading of his betrothal.

  Casting about for the remainder of her belongings, Elizabeth’s eyes landed on the bedside table and she quickly crossed the chamber. Reaching out her hand, she snatched up the fine leather volume. Mr. Darcy’s gift. The book she had once believed to be a symbol of his affection and regard.

  Suddenly, that gentleman’s somber countenance appeared before her and his voice echoed around the chambers of her mind: Miss Bennet, it is only a book. Even then, he had been attempting to manage her expectations. The book was not some tender token of his esteem, but merely a replacement of her damaged property.

  Opening the cover, she glanced down at the inscription on the gilded page: E. BENNET. Even in this, his meaning had been clear—no fond sentiments, no elegant inscription. Not even her full name.

  Grasping the volume, she stalked to the hearth. Flames licked at the glossy leather binding as she held the edges above the blaze. Heat seared her skin. Slowly, she peeled her fingers away one by one.

  But despite her best intentions, her grip tightened, and she drew her hand away from the fire. No, she could not burn it. No matter the reason, her conscience would never allow it.

  Moving to her trunk, Elizabeth shifted her gowns, burying the book beneath the rest of her belongings. She would keep it as a reminder of her own stupidity. And tomorrow she would return to Hertfordshire and begin anew. Time would heal her injured pride, and when next she found herself in Mr. Darcy’s company—as she knew she must—she would greet him with polite civility. Never would he know of her altered feelings or her shattered hopes. Certainly, he was too much of a gentleman to mention her father’s visit, and neither would she. They would simply go on as they had before. In time, she would grow accustomed to a life spent without him. Yes, in time, all would be well.

  Chapter 12

  THE POLISHED SURFACE of Darcy’s desk was no longer visible beneath the mounds of accumulated papers requiring his attention, but he could not bring himself to care. Turning in his chair, he gazed numbly out the window. In the small back garden, the trees were beginning to bud, signaling the end of a long winter and the promise of spring.

  It had been more than a month since Mr. Bennet’s unexpected visit, and with each day that passed, Darcy sank further into a mire of despair. What had he been thinking, refusing Mr. Bennet’s demands? He should have leapt from his chair, acquired a special license, and married Elizabeth on the spot. Surely, she had some feelings for him. Could those feelings not have grown into love, if given the chance? But even as his mind formed the thoughts, his heart knew otherwise. She did not love him. She would never love him. She had found another, someone from her own social circles, someone who would make her happy. And he knew now that he could never be content if she were miserable.

  A knock sounded at the door to the outer corridor and Darcy called out for whoever it was to enter, glad to have a reason to turn his mind away from such melancholy deliberations. His butler stood at the threshold, an impassive expression on his face. “Mr. Bingley is here, sir. He is inquiring whether you are at home.”

  Darcy narrowed his eyes in the man’s direction. Not again. As much as it would please him to see his friend, he knew he could not stomach another confrontation. If Bingley was here with Mr. Bennet, or worse yet with Caroline… “Is he alone?”

  “Yes, sir,” Stevens answered.

  Darcy closed the ledger in front of him, pushing back his chair before offering a single nod. Best to get it over with. “Very well. Pray, send him in.”

  A moment later his old friend stood before him, offering a warm handshake by way of greeting.

  “Bingley, this is a surprise. I had not realized you were once again in Town.”

  “Er, yes, though only for a couple of days. I had business with my solicitor. I should have written, but it was rather a spur of the moment decision.”

  “It is of no consequence, it is always good to see you.” After a moment Darcy added, “Well, it is normally good to see you.”

  His friend colored, taking a seat on the opposite side of Darcy’s desk. “Actually, that is one of the reasons I came. I wished to apologize again for that business with Mr. Bennet. I am sorry to have put you in such an awkward position.”

  “Pray, do not trouble yourself. You said as much in your letter. I do not blame you—or Mr. Bennet for that matter. It is obvious he cares for his daughter. I am certain I would have the same concerns if Georgiana found herself in similar circumstances. However, I am afraid I must stand by my decision in this matter.” Climbing to his feet, Darcy crossed to the window, gazing out through the mullioned glass. “I trust she is well?” he asked, after a lengthy pause. “Miss Bennet?”

  “Oh, yes. Quite well. She returned to Longbourn some time ago. Jane is all too happy to have her sister settled close by again.”

  “And… there have been no more betrothals amongst the Bennet daughters, I presume?”

  Bingley angled his head. “No, no. None as yet.”

  Darcy released a breath, turning away from the window. Well, at least he had that much to be thankful for—Elizabeth had not become engaged to anyone else in the time since he had last seen her. “Did Mrs. Bingley accompany you to Town?” Darcy inquired, grasping for a less volatile topic of conversation.

  “No. Jane chose to remain at Netherfield, as my trip was to be of such a short durati
on. Elizabeth, that is, Miss Bennet is staying with her.” Bingley crossed one foot over the other, chuckling softly. “To tell the truth, I think they were happy to be rid of me for a few days. Actually, I was happy to find you at home, Darcy. Are you not normally at Rosings by now?”

  At the mention of his aunt’s estate, Darcy tensed. “My sister and I will be spending Easter in Town this year.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes.” Darcy paced over to his desk, brusquely rearranging the scattered papers into neat stacks. “Georgiana’s companion is in Cornwall for some months. My sister had no wish to travel and I did not feel comfortable leaving her alone.”

  What Darcy did not disclose was that he could no longer stand to be in such close proximity to Hunsford, where the memory of Elizabeth’s refusal was as fresh as ever. Nor did he repeat the tirade he had been subjected to by letter when he had informed his aunt of the change in plans.

  Darcy looked up, resuming the conversation. “Speaking of Georgiana, I know she would be unhappy to miss seeing you. Will you stay for tea?”

  Bingley accepted the invitation with alacrity, and the two men proceeded to the music room. Georgiana sat at the pianoforte, her head bent in quiet concentration as bright, cheerful notes reverberated in the air. When she finally became aware of their presence, her fingers stilled and she hastily stood, the piano bench scraping against the wooden floor. “Oh! Fitzwilliam! I did not hear you come in.”

  Darcy closed the door behind them as Bingley stepped forward, offering a warm smile. “I must beg your pardon for intruding upon your practice, Miss Darcy. It was not our intention to interrupt.”

  “Yes, pray, finish, dearest,” Darcy added. “As you know, that happens to be one of my favorite pieces.”

  Georgiana flushed, glancing nervously from her brother to Mr. Bingley.

  Bingley opened his mouth, but Darcy cut off his friend’s protestation, “Come, Georgie. I know you do not like to exhibit, but Bingley is practically family. And you must get used to performing in company. You play beautifully and it is a shame not to allow others the pleasure of hearing you.”

  Georgiana colored even more deeply at her brother’s compliment. “Very well,” she murmured, as the two gentlemen took seats nearby.

  When the last few notes had faded away, both men applauded heartily and Darcy escorted his sister to the sofa. “That was marvelous. Now here, sit down and I will ring for tea.”

  The three conversed happily until the tea arrived and Georgiana stood to serve.

  Taking the cup she offered him, Bingley smiled broadly, gazing at his hostess above the rim. “Miss Darcy, your brother tells me you will be staying in Town for Easter. Are you expecting guests?”

  Georgiana poured out her brother’s tea, remembering to add the slice of lemon he had recently begun to favor. “No. I am afraid it will only be Fitzwilliam and myself. My cousin Richard could not get away from his regiment and Lord and Lady Matlock and their family have all gone up to Derbyshire.” She stepped forward, carefully handing Darcy his tea.

  Bingley glanced over at his friend, hastily setting his own teacup on a nearby table. “I have just had the most wonderful idea! I don’t know why I did not think of it sooner. You must both come to Netherfield!”

  Darcy’s breath caught, his fingers automatically tightening around the delicate porcelain handle of his cup. “That is generous of you, Bingley,” he answered, “but I am afraid it is impossible.”

  “Come now, Darcy. You have already admitted that you have no fixed engagements. Jane and I would be pleased to have you. And you needn’t worry about Caroline, if that is your concern. She and Louisa have gone up to Suffolk to spend some months with Hurst’s family.”

  Georgiana sat forward in her chair, her eyes sparkling with eager expectation. “Could we not go, Brother? I have not yet had the pleasure of meeting Mrs. Bingley, and I would so love to become further acquainted with Miss Bennet.”

  At the mention of Elizabeth, Darcy flinched. What he wouldn’t give to see her again, even for a moment! But no sooner had hope flared within him than he remembered the look on her face in the theater lobby. No, she would not wish him there. And if what he suspected was true, and there was another gentleman in the picture, seeing her again would be a cruelty—to both of them.

  Avoiding Georgiana’s gaze, Darcy turned to face his friend. “Forgive me Charles, but it is out of the question. My sister and I could not possibly intrude upon your family with so little notice. Perhaps a visit might be arranged at a later time.”

  Bingley opened his mouth, but soon closed it again. Darcy was known to be stubborn. Once his mind was made up, there was generally no changing it.

  His friend sighed. “Very well. But the invitation stands should you reconsider.”

  Darcy nodded, but steered the conversation to other things. No, he would not reconsider. Elizabeth had her life and he had his. The sooner he came to terms with that, the better it would be for everyone concerned.

  ***

  Dinner that evening was an awkward affair. Bingley had declined Darcy’s invitation to dine, and Georgiana barely spoke. Darcy suspected she was still unhappy about his refusal to travel to Netherfield, but it could not be helped. He had spent enough time disturbing Elizabeth with his unwanted presence; he would not do so again.

  As soon as the meal was at an end, his sister pleaded a headache and retired to her chambers. Darcy adjourned to the library, hoping a glass of brandy and a good book would prove a satisfactory distraction; but an hour later he was still staring at the opening pages of The Lady of the Lake. He had just made up his mind to give up entirely when the door banged open to reveal his cousin, Darcy’s butler hard at the colonel’s his heels.

  “Colonel Fitzwilliam,” Stevens announced, trying to maintain some dignity as Richard entered ahead of him.

  Darcy stifled a smile, closing his book and setting it on a low table. “Thank you, Stevens.”

  His butler nodded, retreating into the hall and Darcy turned his attention to his cousin, who was already helping himself to a hefty glass of port.

  “Richard, to what do I owe this unexpected surprise? I thought you were still in Norfolk.”

  Settling into a chair by the fire, his cousin grinned. “I have only just arrived. There is a bit of business I must attend to in London and I hoped to take advantage of your hospitality, if you do not mind. The family’s gone up to Matlock and I did not relish the idea of rattling around in the townhouse all on my own.”

  “Of course. You may stay as long as you wish. I only feared you had come to attempt to drag me to Rosings. You should know I am resolved on that score. I will not change my mind.”

  Colonel Fitzwilliam barked out a laugh. “Oh, no, not I! After the scathing letter I received from Lady Catherine, I would not venture into Kent for all the cognac in France. As you may have gathered from your own letter, our aunt is most seriously displeased.”

  Darcy scowled, tugging at his cravat. “She will recover.”

  Taking a swallow of his drink, the colonel sprawled comfortably in his chair. “By the by, I recently received another letter I thought might be of interest. From my friend Westinghouse. In New York.”

  Darcy who had stood to refill his own glass froze with his hand on the decanter. “Has he news of Wickham? What have you heard? Do not tell me that blackguard is planning to return to England?”

  “Ha! After you threatened him with debtor’s prison? Not bloody likely. Even America is better than the Marshalsea.”

  “Well, what then?” Darcy snapped, splashing brandy into his glass. “Is Wickham complaining about his treatment? Asking for more money?”

  “No…” The colonel answered slowly. “On the contrary, it seems he has taken to New York like the proverbial duck to water.” After a lengthy pause, Richard continued, “According to Westinghouse, Wickham is engaged to be married. To a local heiress.”

  Tossing back the contents of his glass, Darcy dropped into his seat. “She h
as my sympathy, as do the rest of the American people. Though I cannot say I regret my actions. As long as Wickham keeps away from Georgiana and—that is, as long as he stays off English soil, I am content.”

  “Yes, I believe you made your feelings abundantly clear when you placed him on that ship. I still say you were far too generous with him.”

  Darcy frowned. “Perhaps. But I would have given far more to ensure he no longer had the opportunity to harm the people I love. I should have sent him away years ago.”

  In truth, Darcy wished he had rid himself of Wickham before the scoundrel had been able to get his hooks into Georgiana. It was only when he had returned from Rosings last spring and a rumor reached him that Wickham intended to ruin one of the Bennet daughters that Darcy knew he had to act. Regardless of what had occurred between them, he could not abide the thought of Elizabeth or someone she cared for coming to harm when it was within his power to prevent it.

  Colonel Fitzwilliam smirked. “Too true. Though I still would have enjoyed running him through. Well, enough of that parasite. I would much rather hear about you and Georgie.” His gaze dropped to where Darcy’s long legs were stretched out in front of the fire. “You look well. And you are getting around without the cane, I see.”

  Darcy nodded. “Yes, the break has healed nicely.”

  “And Georgiana? You wrote that she was lately unwell. I hope it is nothing serious?”

  Darcy shrugged, although his lips turned down at the corners. “She seems to have recovered, though as a gentleman I am at a loss to understand such things. And now Mrs. Annesley has gone off to the West Country to spend the summer with her daughter, so I do not even have her to rely upon.”

  “Well, there is always Mother. Or Lady Margaret, come to that.”

  “Yes. I will certainly contact one of them should the problem persist.” After a moment he added, “Georgiana will be happy to see you, of course. How long are you to be in Town? Will you stay for Easter?”