by Leenie Brown
“I can neither trust nor distrust you, sir,” she said. For some reason, she felt a need to ease his discomfort.
“We do not need to marry immediately. How long would you like for our betrothal to be?”
She shrugged, but her mind whirled. Her mother would be unbearable and the whispering in Meryton would follow her wherever she went. While the thought of marrying a man she barely knew frightened her more than she was willing to admit even to herself, she knew that remaining in Meryton and at Longbourn would be just as unbearable. “There are at least three readings. I see no reason to delay it beyond that. I know you are anxious to quit the neighbourhood.”
“I admit, I would prefer to be in more familiar and comfortable surroundings, but I am more concerned that you be at ease.” She peeked at him once again, her brows furrowed as they had during their dance when she questioned him. He smiled. “I can see you are once again trying to read my character. I promise to answer any questions you may have, but there will be no reading of the banns. We will marry by special license.”
Her eyes widened. “Why?”
“My aunt.” He gave her a wry smile. “Mr. Collins’ patroness,” he rolled his eyes, and she caught a laugh just before it burst forth, “Lady Catherine de Bourgh is, as I am sure the gentleman has made you aware, my aunt.”
“And this demands a special license?” The handkerchief lay knotted but still on her lap.
“She expects me to marry her daughter. I have never had any intention of marrying my cousin, and I am not, as I am sure has been said, betrothed to her. There is no arrangement, but that does not mean my aunt will not be greatly displeased. I do not wish to give her opportunity to cause an issue by making a statement in reply to the banns.”
“You are not betrothed?”
He shook his head. “No. It is a great desire of my aunt’s, but it is not mine.” He sighed. “I do not like family discord. It is why I have not been more forceful in making my position known. Indeed, it is why I do not complain more frequently to Bingley regarding his sisters. I consider him as a brother. He is not family by blood, but he is family by extension.”
There was a soft knock at the door.
“Our time is up, Miss Elizabeth. May I call on you when I come to Longbourn to meet with your father? Perhaps, if Bingley accompanies me, he and I could join you and your sister on a walk, and you may begin to question me.” His mouth tipped up only on one side, giving him a rather playful look which pleasantly startled Elizabeth.
“I would like that,” she said, and she was surprised to realize just how much she actually meant it.
Mr. Bennet sighed in relief as he saw his favourite daughter smile at Darcy when the gentleman stood to leave.
“You are well?” he asked.
“I am resigned,” she said. “I cannot put my wishes before my duty to my sisters. Perhaps it is as you said and will be for the best.” She hugged his arm as they walked toward the door of the library. “He was very kind just now. Not at all proud.”
Darcy paused in the hall as her words reached him. He hastened his steps and sought Bingley, who was just wishing Miss Bennet a good night. “I must speak with you,” he said softly as he stood near his friend.
“Oh, Mr. Darcy!” Mrs. Bennet’s shrill voice caused him to grimace slightly. “You are a sly one. Pretending to not like Lizzy and then proposing. It is quite surprising, I assure you. We were positively certain you disapproved of her, and I would not blame you if you did. She can be quite the outspoken sort, and her beauty is nothing compared to Jane.”
Jane flinched at the comment and extended her hand to Mr. Darcy as if wishing him a good night. “I must apologize for my mother. I believe she has had a bit too much punch.” She smiled that serene smile of hers, and Darcy wondered for the first time how much she might conceal behind her facade. Gently, she guided her mother and younger sisters out the door with a quick look over her shoulder toward where Elizabeth walked with her father.
Darcy shook his head. Miss Bennet was removing her mother before a greater scene ensued. He had obviously misjudged her depths, and if he had been wrong in this, perhaps he was wrong in not perceiving her to have affection for Bingley.
“I will await you in the library.”
Bingley shot him an amused look. “You have not spent enough time in there yet tonight?”
Darcy scowled.
“I will be there directly,” said Bingley with a nod before turning to Mr. Bennet.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Darcy paced the library as he waited for Bingley. He mulled Elizabeth’s words in his mind. Not at all proud and very kind. She had seemed surprised to find him so. “Am I proud?” he blurted as Bingley entered the room.
“Not improperly so,” said Bingley, removing his jacket and unbuttoning his waistcoat before lowering himself into a chair with a sigh. “Of course, people have to get to know you before they realize it.”
“What do you mean?” Darcy stopped in front of Bingley’s chair and looked down at him.
“Your serious expression and reserve can be misunderstood as being aloof and disdainful.”
Darcy pondered that for a moment. “Did you think I did not approve of Miss Elizabeth?”
Bingley laughed. “You did say she was not handsome enough to tempt you, a fact that, Miss Bennet assures me, her sister knows.”
“I may have been wrong about her.”
Bingley laughed again. “Well, I should hope so. One does not wish to find himself married to a lady who is merely tolerable and not tempting.”
“No,” said Darcy, shaking his head. “Miss Bennet. She quite possibly likes you.” He sat in a chair and leaned his head back looking up at the ceiling. “I was wrong about Miss Elizabeth as well. She is quite handsome.” He scrubbed his face. “However, she finds me proud and was surprised that I could be kind.”
“That does not bode well for a marriage,” said Bingley, studying his friend. It was rare to see Darcy so distraught. “So there was no secret assignation as implied?”
Darcy groaned. “No. I read a book, and Miss Elizabeth read a book. I sat here, and she was across the room. There was nothing worthy of scandal that happened in here tonight.”
“But her aunt saw you together.”
“I was just leaving the room when Mrs. Philips came in in search of Miss Elizabeth. She pushed past me into the room and saw Miss Elizabeth putting on her slippers and smoothing her skirt…as any lady would do after sitting for an extended period of time.” He sighed. “Before I could stop her, she was off calling for Mr. Bennet, as I am sure you and all your guests heard.” He rested an arm across his eyes. “A brief discussion followed between myself and Mr. Bennet and then between Mr. Bennet and Miss Elizabeth.” He drew a deep breath. “She wept at the thought of marrying me, Bingley. She wept.”
Bingley could feel the pain in his friend’s voice. “You love her?”
“I did not realize it until this evening, but yes, I believe I do love her.”
“Then show her the man who is my friend. If you displayed him more often, I would not be able to claim so many angels, for they would be tripping over their slippers to be with you.”
Darcy laughed lightly. “Are you saying you find me irresistible, Bingley?”
Bingley laughed loudly. “No! No! I am merely suggesting you could be such to women if you would show your true self to them.” He continued laughing. “Of course, you really only need one lady to find you irresistible.”
“Yes, one lady who must marry me, but presently, I fear, does not even like me very much.”
Bingley rose. “You need sleep; though, I doubt you will get much.”
Darcy stood with him. “I believe you are right.” He followed Bingley to the door. “I meet tomorrow afternoon with Mr. Bennet to discuss particulars of the marriage agreement. I have asked Miss Elizabeth to take a walk with me, and she has consented. I told her I would bring you with me so that you could keep Miss Bennet company.”
&nb
sp; Bingley turned to look at Darcy. “So you agree she likes me?”
“I believe you could be right, but my opinion on matters feminine seem to be sadly lacking, so I would put more confidence in your own feelings than in mine.”
“But you believe it possible?”
“Yes, Bingley, I do.”
“So,” said Bingley as they entered the hall, “I was right, and you, the great counsellor and guide, were wrong?”
“Bingley,” growled Darcy, “have a care. I have had a rather trying night.”
“Not as trying as mine is about to be,” said Bingley as he saw his sister Caroline approaching.
“Good night,” said Darcy as he nodded to Caroline and took the stairs to his room two at a time.
* * *
Burns, Robert, and Anonymous. "A DAY WITH THE POET BURNS." The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Day with the Poet Burns by Anonymous. Project Gutenberg, 15 Feb. 2011. Web. Poem quoted is "My Luve is Like a Red, Red Rose." Book originally published by Hodder and Stoughton, London. ↵
Chapter 2
Elizabeth blew out a breath in an attempt to calm her nerves as she fastened her pelisse. Why was she nervous about talking to Mr. Darcy? She had spoken to him on many occasions and never once felt even the slightest amount of trepidation, but today, she was struggling to keep her nerves from running away with her sense. She had resolved, after a lengthy sisterly chat and many tears, that she would accept her fate with as much alacrity as she could contrive.
“Lizzy?” Jane peeked around Elizabeth’s bedroom door. “Papa and Mr. Darcy have finished their meeting, and Mr. Bingley has arrived.”
Elizabeth took one more look in the glass and poked a wayward curl into her bonnet. “I am ready.”
“All will be well,” whispered Jane as she took Elizabeth’s arm and they descended the stairs.
“I pray you are right,” Elizabeth whispered back.
Jane noted how Elizabeth had drawn her lip between her teeth, something she had always done when uneasy. “I know it will be well, for we shall make it so.”
Elizabeth laughed at the comment. “I still do not know how you intend to do so.” Jane had assured her over and over last night that all would be well. Mr. Darcy would love her, and she would love Mr. Darcy. Theirs was to be a marriage that would rival the greatest romance in all history.
Jane pulled Elizabeth to a stop. “How can he not but love you as I do? And if he is Mr. Bingley’s dearest friend, how can he be anything less than the best of men?” She pretended to straighten Elizabeth’s collar so that their stopping mid-descent would not appear so strange to those who waited below. “Question everything, Lizzy. I should not have to tell you this as questioning is in your nature, but you have questioned very little save Mr. Darcy’s honour since he arrived.” There was a hint of scolding in her tone.
Elizabeth felt the warmth of shame creep into her cheeks. It was true. She had not questioned any story that she had heard about Mr. Darcy. She had been willing to believe the worst of the gentleman without giving the information proper consideration.
“There.” Jane gave one more small tug at Elizabeth’s collar and, then taking her arm, continued down the stairs. Elizabeth studied Mr. Darcy’s expression as closely as she could. Jane had claimed there was a slight smile that softened his features when he looked at her. She did not see it.
“Miss Elizabeth, I trust you are well?” There was that puzzling uncertainty again.
She smiled. “I am well. And you?” The space between Mr. Darcy’s brows widened and the corners of his mouth turned up. She blinked. Was this the expression of which Jane spoke?
“I am well.” He offered her his arm as they exited the house.
She glanced at him as she thought of Jane’s admonition to question everything. “You said I could ask questions, correct?”
He nodded and slowed his pace a bit to fall further behind Bingley and Jane.
“Just now you said you trusted I was well, but the inflection in your voice said you did not trust it to be so. Why?” She studied the ground in front of her. Her nerves were threatening to undo her again. She was certain that such an impertinent question would only increase his disapproval.
He noted how her eyes were cast down and how her hand rested so lightly on his arm as if she were afraid of him. The thought pierced his heart. He looked at where his friend walked comfortably with Miss Bennet. Taking a breath, he decided to do as his friend had suggested. He would do his best to be as unguarded with her as he was with Bingley. “You were rather distraught last night. I worried that you were still distraught or that your distress would make you unwell. I wanted to trust you were well, but I feared you were not.”
Her hand rested a bit more firmly on his arm, though her eyes still studied the ground. “You were worried about me?”
“It seems I must admit to another fault, Miss Elizabeth.”
“Indeed?” She peeked up at him. The smile he wore took her by surprise.
“I have the propensity to torment myself by fretting….” he took a deep breath and although it made him exceedingly uncomfortable to do so, added, “especially about people who are of great importance to me.”
Her eyes no longer studied the ground. Instead, she was looking at him with her head cocked to the side and a perplexed look on her face. Of course, she would not understand he included her in that group if she truly thought him disdainful.
“Such as my sister, my cousin, Bingley, and you,” he continued, feeling the embarrassment creeping up his neck while his chest constricted, making breathing somewhat difficult. They had taken several agonizingly silent steps before she spoke.
“Me?” Elizabeth stopped walking as she tried to reason out why he would care for her. Then understanding dawned on her, and she smiled. “Of course, I shall be your wife. It is expected.”
It was his turn to cock his head and study her with confusion.
“I am sorry, Mr. Darcy. Did I say something amiss?”
He shook his head and gave a small laugh. “No, Miss Elizabeth, but I fear I have.” He regretted his choice of words immediately as he saw the look on her face. Quickly, he attempted to correct her misunderstanding. “I do not mean I said something amiss just now. I was referring to my comment at the assembly which seems to have left you with the mistaken notion that I could never care for you.”
She had dropped his arm and now walked with her hands clasped behind her back. “I do not question your ability to fulfill duty, Mr. Darcy.”
“I am not speaking of fulfilling duty, Miss Elizabeth.” He stopped in front of her.
“Then, pray tell, of what are you speaking, Mr. Darcy?”
“I am saying, Miss Elizabeth, that I have been able to think of very little else save you since that confounded assembly.” He looked away from her shocked expression. “Your eyes are enchanting, and your wit is enthralling.”
“But you claimed I was merely tolerable!”
“I did.” He sighed. “I was in a foul mood. I did not wish to encourage my friend in his quest to find me a partner, nor did I wish to give false hope to any lady.” He could tell by the lift of her eyebrow that he had said something wrong again. “I am expected to marry well. I thought the people in attendance to be beneath me.”
“That was most obvious.” Her tone was sharp and firm. “It is a happy thing that you did not find any in attendance to be handsome.”
“I never said you were not handsome.”
Her eyes were wide with surprise. “You did not?”
He crossed his arms and glared at her. “No, I did not. I said you were not handsome enough to tempt me to dance.”
“You did not say to dance.”
He closed his eyes and tried to rein in his frustration. “It was implied. As I said, I was in no mood to dance that evening. You could have been Aphrodite herself, and you would not have been handsome enough to tempt me to dance, for I had no intention of dancing.”
“I see.” She stepped passe
d him and began walking away. She needed space to think.
Darcy watched her and silently cursed Bingley’s idea to be more open. Explaining himself to Bingley was never this difficult. This was like trying to reason with Georgiana.
He had nearly reached her side when she spun toward him again.
“Why? Why did you not wish to dance?” She saw him flinch at the question. “Forgive me, I should not have asked.”
“No, no,” he assured her, “I told you that you could ask me questions to learn of my character.” He offered her his arm again and was relieved when she place her hand on it. They walked along for a few moments in silence as he considered the best way to answer. She was to be his wife and a sister to Georgiana. It would do well for her to know of what had happened, but her defense of Wickham during their dance made him uneasy. “Before I answer your question, I must ask something of you.”
She peeked up at him. His brows were drawn together, and there was a sadness to his eyes as he stared at the scenery before them. She was once again struck with the same strange urge to ease his discomfort as she had been last night. “Of course,” she said, giving him the permission he sought before continuing.
“I do not wish to offend,” he began. His voice was soft but serious. “You spoke so passionately last night of Mr. Wickham. Has he touched your heart?” The words felt bitter. They made his stomach twist and his heart ache. He was unsure what he would do if her answer were in the positive. Silently, he prayed that it would not be.
“Mr. Wickham?” She remembered the disdain that Darcy had shown both on his face and in his tone as they had spoken of Wickham last night. “I do not understand how that has anything to do with your not wishing to dance.”
“I realize it does not seem related, but I assure you it is.” He looked at her and smiled softly. “I do not wish to cause you pain, although I fear I will.”
She shook her head. “I have enjoyed his company, but he has not touched my heart.”
