The Angel of Longbourn

by Rowland Jann

  “Regardless, I would like to inform you that I do not need to speak with your father in private.”

  Surprised, Elizabeth looked up at the man, only to see him smiling at her.

  “I do not need to speak with him yet,” clarified he. “For you see, though I have had more than a month to come to know you, we have not yet been able to indulge in the usual activities of courting couples. I find that I am anticipating those activities very much, indeed.

  “If all goes as I suspect, then I will be required to speak to your father at a later date.”

  “And what activities might those be, Mr. Darcy?” asked Elizabeth, looking up at him, with a hint of a saucy smile, ignoring his final words for those of more immediate interest.

  “Why, walking, talking, dancing, listening to a fair maiden as she performs . . . Oh, and of course there are the stolen moments between courting couples, kisses exchanged, murmured endearments. I am anticipating them all, Miss Elizabeth.”

  Elizabeth supposed that she should have been shocked at the brazen manner in which he all but declared that he intended to compromise her. But curiously, she could not find it in her to blush. In fact, Elizabeth knew in her heart that she was anticipating all those activities herself, though some might call her shameless because of it.

  “And you do not already know me well enough now, sir?” was all she said.

  “I know you well enough to know that I wish to marry you and whisk you back to my estate.”

  “Then why do you not do it?”

  “Because part of the joy is in the chase,” replied Mr. Darcy. “Even if we both know how it will ultimately end.”

  “Then I suggest you begin your chasing,” said Elizabeth, moving away from him, though slowly, mindful of the fact that he was still recovering from a serious illness.

  Mr. Darcy followed willingly, though their chase was rather tame in nature. There would be time for a more vigorous pursuit when he was further recovered. Elizabeth did not doubt he would eventually catch her. She had no desire to escape.

  Though both Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy were inclined to stay out of doors for some time in each other’s company, it was only a short time later when they returned to the house. They enjoyed their time speaking of inconsequential topics, as it was the first time they had been able to speak in relative privacy during their acquaintance. But Mr. Darcy soon directed their steps back to the house, informing Elizabeth that he wished to make certain Lady Catherine departed as she had been instructed.

  “Do you suspect her capable of more mischief?” asked Elizabeth, casting a worried glance back at the house.

  “I suspect her capable of anything to get her own way,” replied Mr. Darcy. “She does not take well to being thwarted.”

  Elizabeth had her hand in the crook of his arm, and they were walking back toward the house. It seemed like one of Mr. Darcy’s traits was a tendency toward single-mindedness—he focused on the task at hand to the exclusion of all else. Elizabeth could not help but admire this, though she knew even now that at times it would frustrate her. At the moment, however, she brushed the thought off in favor of the subject at hand.

  “You do not think the earl will make an issue of your choice, do you?” asked she, as she chewed her lower lip nervously.

  Mr. Darcy stopped walking, and turned to her. “Let us first be clear that no one will turn me from my course once I have decided, whether he be the earl or even the prince regent himself. I have made no proposal yet, Miss Elizabeth, but my mind is already made up on the subject.”

  “I did not suspect you of being irresolute,” Elizabeth hastened to assure him. “But I do not know the earl, nor do I know how much influence he wields.”

  His countenance softened, and Mr. Darcy raised a hand to brush her cheek, his touch feather light. “No, you do not. The earl does possess a certain measure of influence. But he also knows that I will not allow him to rule my actions, nor would he ever attempt to do so. Whether he will approve of my choice is something only he knows, though I will state that I think he will love you once he has come to know you. Most of all, he trusts my judgment, and he knows I would never marry anyone who would embarrass the family.”

  Turning, Mr. Darcy began to lead her back to the house again. “As for the rest of my family, I cannot imagine that my sister will be anything other than thrilled with the prospect of you as a sister, and Fitzwilliam’s sisters will be the same. His elder brother might even be envious of us.”

  “How so, Mr. Darcy?” asked Elizabeth, curious why a viscount would be jealous of them.

  “For the felicity in marriage we will share,” replied Mr. Darcy.

  Elizabeth, though she was certain by now that she wished to marry him, thought that his surety of their absolute felicity was perhaps a little hasty. She was certain that she knew him enough to know that he was stubborn and a match for her in that respect. She anticipated their arguments and intellectual disagreements, provoking him, and teasing him, almost as much as she anticipated the other aspects of their relationship!

  “The viscount,” continued Mr. Darcy, “has married the daughter of an earl, one of my uncle’s acquaintances. The marriage was decided upon to secure an alliance. They get along well enough, I suppose, but they are not precisely . . . compatible, being very different people. I do not gossip about my cousin’s marriage, but I only point out that I have always wished for something better for my own marriage.”

  “As have I, Mr. Darcy,” murmured Elizabeth.

  He turned and smiled at her. “Then we shall do quite well, I would think.” He paused. “I hope you do not mind my speaking in such a manner, Miss Elizabeth. I know I have not proposed yet, but I fully intend to do so. I consider myself quite bound to you, although it is not official yet.”

  “Perhaps this courtship you have proposed is wise, Mr. Darcy, for there appears to be much of which you still do not understand about me.”

  Mr. Darcy turned and glanced at her, a question in his eyes. Elizabeth merely shot him an impudent grin.

  “You will understand very quickly if I am displeased, sir,” explained Elizabeth. “I am not the sort of woman who will hide my discontentment.”

  Laughing, Mr. Darcy pulled her toward the door, and they entered the house. “I might never have guessed,” said he, as they divested their outer wear into the arms of the waiting servants. “This courtship might be fortuitous, indeed. I would not wish to be bound to a woman who is too similar to my Aunt Catherine, after all.”

  “Mr. Darcy!” cried Elizabeth, resting her arms on her hips. “How dare you make such an insinuation!”

  “I have insinuated nothing, Miss Elizabeth,” replied he, grasping her hand and placing it in the crook of his arm. “I have every confidence in your ability to curb your natural instincts. But I believe we must hold Lady Catherine at arm’s length, for I would not wish you to be influenced by her.”

  “Maybe it is best that I reconsider,” said Elizabeth, as he drew her along beside him. “I would not wish to be bound to a husband who would insult me in such a manner.”

  “Miss Bingley would consider it a compliment if I were to compare her to Lady Catherine.”

  “I am not Miss Bingley, sir.”

  “And for that, I will be forever grateful.”

  Laughing, they entered the sitting-room to find the entire company gathered together—minus Mr. Bennet and Lady Catherine and her daughter. The lady’s continued presence was evident, however, as the sound of her voice ringing through the hallways of Longbourn attested to the fact that she had not yet departed.

  “I say, Darcy,” said Mr. Bingley, “You have spoken to me of your aunt in the past, but the reality is quite beyond anything I could have imagined.”

  “The reality is quite beyond anything I had ever expected,” replied Mr. Darcy. “I always knew she would be incensed when her schemes regarding Anne fell to pieces, but I could not have believed her capable of this.”

&
nbsp; Mr. Darcy turned to Mrs. Bennet. “And I would like to take this opportunity to apologize to you, Mrs. Bennet. You opened your home to us all, and you have been repaid by my aunt’s poor behavior.”

  “You have always been gracious, Mr. Darcy,” said Mrs. Bennet. “I do not think you have anything for which you need apologize.”

  Elizabeth watched her mother, noting that she appeared to be impatient, as she looked back and forth between Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth knew exactly why her mother was looking at them both with expectation, and a glance at Mr. Darcy showed that he was not unaware either.

  “I add my voice to Darcy’s, Mrs. Bennet,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam, interrupting when Mrs. Bennet appeared to be on the verge of demanding they explain themselves. “You have been welcoming and kind, and we are grateful for your unstinting care of my cousin. But I beg you,” said he, looking about the room at all of them, “please do not gossip of the morning’s events, as it would reflect badly on my family if word made its way to London.”

  Mrs. Bennet looked carefully at the colonel before her eyes darted to Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth herself. Then clearly deciding based on the hope that Mr. Darcy would soon be her family, she replied: “Of course, Colonel Fitzwilliam. We would not dream of speaking of the matter. I suggest we keep all knowledge of it from Lady Lucas, in particular, as she loves to gossip.”

  That Mrs. Bennet of all people would suggest that someone else could not be trusted to refrain from gossiping forced a laugh from Elizabeth’s lips, which she suppressed with a cough. A quick glance at Jane showed that she was just as amused as Elizabeth was herself, but other than Elizabeth’s disguised outburst, they both managed to keep their mirth in check.

  It was clear that Mrs. Bennet was gathering herself to ask about the result of Elizabeth’s walk in the garden with Mr. Darcy, when the door to the sitting-room crashed open, and Mr. Collins barged in, a wild look about his eyes.

  “Cousin Elizabeth,” cried he, “can it be true that you have refused to oblige Lady Catherine’s reasonable demand to step aside so Mr. Darcy can do his duty? What can you be thinking?”

  “That is enough, Mr. Collins.”

  The parson turned and gaped at Mr. Bennet, who had come in through the other door. He was glaring at Mr. Collins, staring down at him as if he were nothing more than the lowest insect to crawl on the earth.

  Mr. Collins drew himself up, and in a voice he obviously intended to be filled with authority, said: “Cousin! You must insist that your daughter cease this shameless display. I will consent to marry the girl to put a stop to her ambitions, though I have no doubt that she will give me a lifetime of trouble.”

  If the man’s tone had not been wheedling, he might have presented a more impressive picture, but as it was, he could not help but hunch a little in his typical subservience, and he appeared more like a child, crying because of being denied a treat.

  “It is apparent to me, Mr. Collins, that our acquaintance must be severed yet again. Though you are not at all like your father, I find that my tolerance for you is no greater than what I possessed for him. I will ask you to leave, never to return.”

  “This is how it will be?” hissed Mr. Collins. “I should have known what artful people you are. My father told me it all, but I decided to think well of you. And this is how I am repaid.”

  “You have no say over what I do, Mr. Collins,” said Mr. Darcy. “I have no need to follow my aunt’s dictates. This matter has nothing to do with you.”

  “It has everything to do with me!” cried Mr. Collins. “I am your aunt’s spiritual guide, and thus, her concerns are mine.”

  “Enough!” thundered Mr. Bennet. He stalked toward Mr. Collins, causing the man to shrink back, though he was taller than Mr. Bennet. “You will leave this estate now, Mr. Collins, and you will not return.

  “You had best remember, Mr. Collins, that I am in control of the estate until my passing. If you wish there to be anything left of Longbourn by the time I cede it to you, you will cease these objections and leave.”

  Though aghast at Mr. Bennet’s words, Mr. Collins was not quite ready to give up his objections. But before he could do more than open his mouth, Mr. Bennet cut him off.

  “Do not test me, Mr. Collins. I am about to gain two wealthy sons-in-law. It is nothing to me if Longbourn’s income dwindles to naught. By the time you are ready to inherit, there will be nothing left to sustain you.”

  Mr. Collins looked at his cousin through wide eyes, and it was instantly clear that he did not like what he saw. His mouth moved, but no sound came out. Soon, he turned quickly and left the room, muttering as he walked. With any luck, they would not see him again.

  “How is it possible that I am related to such a cretin?” muttered Mr. Bennet, shaking his head in disgust.

  “I understand that you were not on friendly terms with his father?” asked Colonel Fitzwilliam.

  “That is an understatement, Colonel,” replied Mr. Bennet. “His father was a more bombastic man, with few social skills and a more confrontational manner. I have no doubt that it was his heavy-handed approach which led to that slinking sycophant. I had thought for a time his manners might be amusing, but it appeared that I was wrong.”

  Elizabeth shook her head with fond exasperation. Her father was the only man she knew who could conceive the thought of befriending a man with no other thought in mind than to laugh at him.

  “You were bluffing when you threatened to destroy the estate, were you not?” asked Mr. Darcy.

  Laughing, Mr. Bennet shook his head. “Not entirely. I am aware that I have not been the best parent, but still I would do much for my daughters’ happiness. Had he persisted, he might have found out to what lengths I am willing to go for them.

  “I do love the estate, though I wish it was destined to devolve to someone more deserving than William Collins.” Mr. Bennet shook his head. “I do not doubt that ten years of Mr. Collins’s stewardship would see the estate become insolvent. Unfortunately, there is nothing I can do about it.”

  The sound of Lady Catherine’s voice, which had been a dull murmur in the background, suddenly gained volume, as the lady stomped down the stairs and through the vestibule. Had Elizabeth wished, she could have listened to her to determine exactly what she was saying, but she decided she truly did not wish to know. In a moment, Lady Catherine was out of the house and the noise once again lessened, especially after they heard the door closing after her. Soon, the crunch of horses’ hooves and the rumble of the carriage wheels on the gravel announced the lady’s departure. More than one of the company heaved a sigh of relief.

  Mrs. Bennet, however, found that she could not wait in suspense any longer. “What happened outside, Lizzy? Did Mr. Darcy propose to you? Why did he not go to Mr. Bennet’s study?”

  “No, Mama,” said Elizabeth, affecting nonchalance. “Mr. Darcy did not propose to me. To be honest, I am not certain that we are at all compatible.”

  Shocked, Mrs. Bennet sucked in a great breath, no doubt to unleash a great torrent of complaints, ill-use, and demands for Elizabeth to apologize to Mr. Darcy at once. But Mr. Darcy, who was by now seemingly well acquainted with his future mother-in-law, interjected quickly.

  “I have not asked yet, Mrs. Bennet, but it does not follow that I will not do so in the future.”

  That brought her up short. “You do mean to propose to her?”

  “I do, when the time is right,” said Mr. Darcy. Then he turned to Elizabeth and looked at her critically. “But perhaps something should be done about your daughter’s impertinence, Mrs. Bennet. It seems to me that she has a distressing tendency to tease. A man of my stature expects his wife to be quiet and demure, polite and respectful.”

  Elizabeth’s glare around the room at those who grinned promised retribution. Mrs. Bennet, of course, missed Mr. Darcy’s irony and was quick to support him.

  “I have said the same thing myself many times, Mr. Darcy. I have not had the be
st luck in curbing her tendencies. Perhaps a husband may succeed where her mother has not.”

  “Do not even consider it, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth, the warning clear in her tone.

  But Mr. Darcy only grinned. “Actually, Mrs. Bennet, I believe I like your daughter just the way she is. I would be quite happy to have a teasing and impertinent wife.”

  “She will be the sensation of London,” added Colonel Fitzwilliam with a guffaw. “The ladies there tend to be a little colorless, nothing but shadows of one another. No one will ever mistake Miss Elizabeth for one of them.”

  Though she clearly did not know what to make of it all, Mrs. Bennet smiled and called for tea. The workings of the minds of great men were quite incomprehensible to her, and it was clear that she decided there was no use trying to understand.

  It was some time later when they were all gathered for tea, speaking and laughing amongst themselves, when Kitty and Lydia appeared in the parlor, excitedly whispering. They seemed to have some information which they considered important, for Elizabeth heard a couple of comments suggesting they were arguing about who would share their news. As they were thus discussing it, Kitty happened to look up at Colonel Fitzwilliam and, blushing, she fell silent, leaving Lydia to be the bearer of their news by default.

  “We have just come from Meryton, where word of Mr. Wickham’s desertion is all over the town!”

  “Wickham has fled, has he?” asked Colonel Fitzwilliam. Anyone listening to him might have thought that he had no interest, but one look at his face showed him to be wearing a smile of satisfaction.

  “He was discovered to be missing from his bed this morning,” said Lydia, eagerly sharing her gossip. “He claimed an indisposition last evening and did not attend Mrs. Goulding’s dinner party for the officers, and no one thought to look in on him until he did not appear for duty this morning.

  “And some of the officers are missing their purses and one of the horses is gone,” added Kitty. There was a strange diffidence in her manner which confused Elizabeth.