by Leenie Brown
“I still do not know why you would choose someone like me when you have so much, and I have so little.”
“You are not a pauper begging for food on the street,” he replied with a smile. “Your family is not poor.”
Her cheeks grew warm. “No, we are not, but compared to this,” she indicated the room by looking around, “we are not equals.”
“Very well, if you are using things such as money as the measurement for equality of station, then no, we are not equals. However, you are a gentleman’s daughter. I am a gentleman’s son.”
“Yes, but..”
“And I love you,” he said, cutting off her words. “As you already know, that is the determining factor as to why I choose you. You may thank Bingley for making me aware of such reasoning, and you may also take up your argument with him if you find the reasoning unfounded.”
Were he not smiling while lifting those brows so imperiously, and had he not just declared he loved her – and before her sister — Elizabeth might have been put out with his final words. As it was, all she could do was smile that silly grin, just as she always did when he said something sweet, and think of no logical retort. How did one refute a declaration of love?
“I will admit that my cousin has always said he would marry to better his lot in life,” Darcy said when Elizabeth remained silent. “And it would weigh on him to have his inheritance threatened, I will not deny those facts. However, I would not see him do without, and I know he would not desert a lady he loved just for a few more pounds from some other source. He is too honorable for that.”
“Which proves my point exactly,” Elizabeth declared. “It is a dangerous game they play. How could such a future be happy?”
“You ask the wrong question.”
The wrong question? Surely, not. If the colonel and Lydia were to fall in love and wish to marry, there would be strictures placed on them by lack of wealth that would most certainly lead to eventual discontent and therefore, unhappiness.
“I cannot see how I have asked amiss,” Elizabeth replied. “Strictures and a reduction in means of living would not sit well with either your cousin or my sister.”
Darcy shook his head and smiled.
Was he dismissing her opinion as foolish? She knew her point was valid.
“The question one should ask,” he began, still wearing that amused smile, “is not how could their future be happy together in the reduced circumstances you fear, but rather, how could their future be happy without the one whom they love. I pondered that very thing for weeks before Bingley so wisely pointed out the error in my thinking.”
Elizabeth knew she was smiling that silly smile again. It was ridiculous how easily her emotions could be swayed whenever he even hinted at loving her.
“But you are wealthy,” she protested. Charming words and whether she felt compelled to smile instead of scowl, did not change the fact that she knew she was correct.
“My cousin is not poor. He is just not as wealthy as he would wish to be.”
She lifted her chin. “I still say it is a dangerous game.”
“Say what you will, but I will say that it is not so dangerous as you think. And on this, I shall not be moved.”
She shook her head and turned away from Darcy’s charming smile. She would press her point no further. It was so much easier to debate with him when he was being dour — not that she had any desire for him to become dour once again.
Time and experience would have to determine the winner of this contest, and as Lydia once again giggled at something the colonel said, Elizabeth hoped that she might be proven wrong. For though Lydia was a trial at times, Elizabeth did not wish to see her sister injured, and from the way, Lydia was looking at Colonel Fitzwilliam, injury was indeed a possibility, whether Mr. Darcy chose to acknowledge it or not.
Chapter 10
The next morning, as Darcy once again started the summation of a column through which he had only made it halfway before finding his mind wandering back to Elizabeth and their conversation about Lydia and Richard, the door opened, and he acknowledged the entrance of his cousin with a nod of his head.
“Miss Lydia seems enamoured with you,” he said, glancing up from his books as his cousin settled into a chair. That column of numbers seemed destined to remain as they were – without a total at the bottom. “You are only encouraging proper behaviour and not encouraging an attachment, are you not?”
One corner of his cousin’s mouth tipped up, causing Darcy to pause and lay his pen aside. Yes, those numbers would remain without a total for a while longer.
“She is a pretty thing,” Richard finally replied.
“And young. And not an heiress.”
Richard shrugged and sighed. “True.”
“But?” Darcy prodded. Richard rarely capitulated so easily.
Richard shook his head. “I do not know.”
Darcy knew just how quickly a gentleman could fall for a pretty Bennet lady. Bingley had been lost before the end of one dance, and he, himself, had not been a whole lot longer in falling for Elizabeth. He had just fought the reality of such a thing happening where his friend had readily accepted it.
The fact that his cousin, who was never without a plan of which he knew the workings forward and back, was currently faltering when answering a question about his plan to improve Lydia Bennet spoke loudly to Darcy that Richard’s heart might likely be in danger of being lost.
“She is Georgiana’s age,” Darcy continued.
Richard nodded. “And in one year’s time, Georgiana will be entertaining gentlemen in the sitting room and dancing with them at balls.”
“But she will be a year older,” Darcy argued. He leaned back in his chair and studied his cousin. It was not that Darcy did not wish for Richard to find a lady who made him happy, nor was his argument actually about Lydia’s age. I was more about the fact that he had always thought a more mature and sensible sort of lady would catch Richard’s eye. In fact, he had not truly believed that his cousin was in danger last evening when speaking with Elizabeth. A small niggling worry had poked him a time or two, but he had brushed it away each time it did. However, this morning while having his first cup of tea, he had reconsidered his talk with Elizabeth and had decided the best thing to do was to broach the subject with his cousin rather than just guess and suppose.
Richard threw one leg over the other. “Do not fear. I have not lost my heart to Miss Lydia’s pretty blue eyes. I am merely helping her achieve her potential, so that she can find a proper husband. I am, after all, married to my profession.”
“It concerns me that you know the colour of her eyes,” Darcy muttered, causing Richard to laugh.
“I notice things about people.”
“Especially if the person is a pretty young lady,” Darcy added.
“They are more pleasant to observe than some dour old gent.”
Darcy was about to give a final word of caution when Abrams knocked and entered.
“You have callers, sir,” said the butler. “Miss Bingley and Sir Matthew are awaiting you in the sitting room. Mrs. Bennet is entertaining them until you arrive.”
“And the Miss Bennets?” Darcy rose from his desk and donned his jacket.
“The youngest are with Miss Darcy and Mrs. Annesley. The eldest are with their father.”
“If the eldest could be spared from their father’s side, Miss Bingley might wish to see them.”
He pulled at his sleeves and straightened his waistcoat as Mr. Abrams left the study. Mrs. Bennet was not unfamiliar with entertaining guests in her home. He did not need to rush to see to his callers, yet he felt as if he should. Miss Bingley was not favourably disposed to any of the Bennets – especially after the incident at the Johnson’s ball. In fact, he was surprised she had called at his home at all. He had hoped she would be too put out with him and his part in the fiasco leading to her current betrothed state to call on him. His cheeks puffed out as he exhaled.
“This should be
entertaining,” Richard said from directly next to Darcy, causing him to jump.
“It might well be. I wonder why she has decided to call?”
“Only one way to find out.” Richard held the door for his cousin to exit before him.
In the sitting room, Caroline Bingley was perched on the edge of a settee with Sir Matthew at her side. She wore a green gown and a tight smile. There was nothing relaxed in her form at all. She was not, Darcy decided, here of her own accord. He would like to know just how Sir Matthew, who was, as always, relaxed and unruffled, managed to get her to Darcy House.
“Hurst told me that your husband had been injured,” Caroline was saying to Mrs. Bennet as Darcy entered. “And Sir Matthew and I, of course, thought it only proper to call to inquire after his health.” She paused and raised her chin slightly. “We are to be relations, after all.”
“You are too good, Miss Bingley. I had not thought to see you at all while I was in town. I said to Lady Lucas that it would be delightful to see you, but I did not expect it. You would be busy with the season and all that I told her. Yet, here you are. Quite a proper thing, and so kind. Mr. Bennet is resting well, and we hope he will be able to return to Longbourn in just over a week. There have been no complications, no fever, no swoons, or anything else. We have been quite blessed.”
Darcy slipped into a chair while Mrs. Bennet spoke.
“Oh, Mr. Darcy,” Mrs. Bennet cried upon noticing him, “Is it not just the best treat ever to have Miss Bingley call on us?”
Darcy bit back a smile at how the lady had joined herself to his establishment and referred to him and her as “us.” “Indeed, it is.”
“And she has the most wonderful news.”
“Does she?”
“She does!”
Mrs. Bennet’s face was suffused with excitement.
“She is betrothed!”
Again, Darcy bit back a smile as he replied, “I had heard that she was.” He darted a look toward Caroline, who, catching his eye, glared at him.
“And to a baronet! Oh, she is a most fortunate lady.” Mrs. Bennet gasped. “Lady Broadhurst! How well that sounds! You must be delighted,” she said to Caroline before gasping once again. “Forgive me, I have quite forgotten my manners in light of such wonderful news. Do you know Sir Matthew, Mr. Darcy?”
Darcy nodded. “I do.”
Mrs. Bennet looked relieved. “Lady Broadhurst,” she muttered once again. “I should be very pleased if any of my daughters were ever to have such a title. Miss Bingley, you have done very well, very well, indeed.”
To Darcy’s surprise, Caroline’s smile shifted from the tight one she had been wearing to one of a lady who was quite pleased with herself.
“I have done well, have I not?” she agreed.
The look she gave Darcy was nearly his undoing, but he bit his cheek and kept his composure. Apparently, Mrs. Bennet’s praise of Caroline’s status had been a balm capable of changing the glare Caroline had given him before into a look of mild hauteur. While he did not appreciate how she looked down her nose at him, he was relieved to see her more relaxed posture.
“I do believe it is I who has done very well.” Sir Matthew sat forward and covered Caroline’s hand with one of his.
To Darcy’s surprise, Caroline Bingley blushed and dipped her head. If he had not seen it with his own eyes, he would not have believed it possible should someone tell him of it. Sir Matthew had said he thought his odds were good in persuading Caroline to love him, and it appeared he was right.
Richard leaned toward Darcy. “Remind me never to play cards with that man.”
Darcy chuckled. “I asked that Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth be made aware of your arrival.”
Caroline’s eyes grew wide. “You did?”
“Yes, I thought you might like to visit with them.”
“Of course, we would,” answered Sir Matthew. “I should like to get to know them better, especially Miss Bennet as she will be a sister.”
“Is that not wonderful?” cried Mrs. Bennet. “I thought for sure when Mr. Bingley left Netherfield, and then his sisters and Mr. Darcy followed, that my Jane would be forgotten.” Her brows and chin rose. “Not that any of my daughters are easily forgotten.” She shook her head. “But I did think we had lost Mr. Bingley, and he had shown such promise. He is such an amiable gentleman,” she directed this last bit to Sir Matthew, “just the sort of gentleman with whom a mother wishes for her daughter to be happily settled.”
“And his fortune is not small.” Caroline’s lashes fluttered as she smiled at Mrs. Bennet.
“Oh, it is not, you are most correct, but then you should be as you are his sister and more intimately acquainted with such things,” Mrs. Bennet replied. “A mother does like to see her daughters well-situated. You will understand when you have a daughter or two of your own. It is such a worry. Why a lady’s future rest entirely on that very thing – finding, as you have done, a gentleman to lend his rank and keep her in dresses and a home.”
Clearly, from the shocked look on Caroline’s face, Mrs. Bennet’s answer had not been what she had expected. To own the truth, it was not what Darcy had expected either, but it did, strangely, make him happy to be one of the gentlemen who would care for the future of one of Mrs. Bennet’s daughters.
Chapter 11
“I hear Miss Bingley called.” Mr. Bennet pushed himself up, pulling his leg along the bed while taking great pains not to move it any more than was necessary to achieve a comfortable sitting position.
“She did,” Darcy replied. “Sir Matthew seems quite capable of steering her in the proper direction.” Seeing the curiosity on Mr. Bennet’s face, he added, “He covers her hand, drawing her attention away from whatever she is about to set upon as a topic of conversation; he replies before she does when there is a danger that her answer might not be pleasing; and he stays as close to her side as is possible. It is remarkable actually. If you were not looking for such actions, one would never suspect he is directing her.”
“And does she seem to be warming to him?” Mr. Bennet winced as he shifted once again. “I promise it does not hurt as it did, but there are moments when that injury reminds me it is there.”
Darcy smiled apologetically. “Is there anything I can get you for your comfort?”
Mr. Bennet began to shake his head but then stopped as a small smile crept onto his lips. “You could marry my daughter. I should be very comfortable knowing my Lizzy was well-settled.”
“I should like to oblige you as soon as possible. However, your daughter is not yet ready for such a discussion. And, to be fair, we are only just becoming well-acquainted.” Darcy’s comments were met with a resigned sigh.
“I would say that you have all your life to become acquainted after you marry, but…” he paused and looked toward the far corner of the room where a dressing table stood next to a large wardrobe, “sometimes even twenty-three years is not enough for some to learn what they should know about their mate.” He drew a deep breath and expelled it. “Though I love her, my wife may never understand me.” He shook his head. “Courting for a year rather than just a week and three days would not have changed that fact.”
He turned back to Darcy. “It would have, however, helped me prepare for what lay ahead. I knew my Fanny did not possess a keen wit, but I had not accepted that it was part and parcel of who she was. I thought it could be changed.” Again, he shook his head. “It seems it cannot be.”
He looked down at the blue blanket which lay across his lap and ran his hands over it as if smoothing some imaginary wrinkles from it. “I should have been like Sir Matthew. He knows his future wife’s failings, and as you said, he is taking steps to direct them.”
Darcy did not know how to respond to such an admission, but he did not have to, as Mr. Bennet continued.
“When we first married, I attempted to engage Fanny’s mind. I read her books and asked her questions, but my efforts fell on deaf ears or a dull mind. I tried teasing a
nd prodding. However, she did not know that she needed to move, and so she did not. That is when I retreated to find solace in my solitude and to hide my failure in laughter.” He shook his head. “Do not do that. Remember our discussion at the ball – when I said a gentleman who is rarely rattled by anything might become indifferent to those things which should stir him to action?”
Darcy nodded.
“My strength of forbearance became indolence.” Mr. Bennet chuckled. “One has a great deal of time to ponder things, when he is confined to his bed, and a tendency to become contemplative, when his daughters are on the verge of beginning their own families. But enough of that. Did you not say you had a chessboard somewhere?”
“I did.”
“Then, might not you go retrieve it so we can have something to do while listening to me meander down my ruminative road?”
Darcy chuckled and rose to call for the chess set.
“How are my daughters?” Mr. Bennet asked when Darcy returned to his chair. “Not my eldest, but my youngest.”
“They seem to be settling into their new surroundings well.” He paused and grimaced slightly. “I fear I am not the best at entertaining young ladies. We have had a dance lesson and a walk. Tomorrow, I believe, there is talk of a shopping excursion.”
This news did not seem to be news at all to Mr. Bennet as he simply nodded and said, “Will you accompany them?”
Darcy shook his head. “Mrs. Annesley will be with my sister, so there is no need for me to attend them. As I heard it, they are only looking for gloves and a pair of slippers for Georgiana.”
This was met with a burst of laughter. “I should be surprised if that is the extent of their purchases. My wife is not known for her restraint, and shopping is one of the skills at which she excels.”
“My aunt is the same,” Darcy replied. “My uncle is forever bemoaning the bills for dresses and hats and the need to redo this or that room. My aunt will hear some bit of news about the latest thing and find it necessary to be the first to adopt it.”
