by Jennifer Joy
Another day dawned, and Darcy tucked the letter into his coat pocket. With determination, he set out to find Miss Elizabeth. The morning looked deceptively pleasant with a few puffy, white clouds littering the bright blue of the sky. Rain would have been more welcome, more comfortable.
He reached the bottom of the stairs which led to the entrance hall. A figure paced back and forth across the marble floor, his hands clasped behind his back.
“Richard,” Darcy called to his cousin.
Disrupted from his thoughts and his pacing, Richard looked up. “Ah, precisely the man I have been waiting for. I hope you rested well.”
Darcy did not slow his pace, not wishing to be distracted from his mission. “I wish to leave today. I only have to deliver a letter, which holds some information for which you might be sought out to corroborate. We can leave this afternoon.” He paused briefly, expecting Richard to ask about the contents or recipient of the letter and fall in beside him. He pulled the letter out of his pocket as he neared the front door, turning it over in his fingers.
“Good morning to you, too, my taciturn cousin. Not so much as a greeting or a polite inquiry to my health?” teased Richard in the maddening way he had of scolding Darcy with a laugh.
Darcy grit his teeth. He needed to try harder to be pleasant.
Turning back from the door, he said, “Excuse me. I forgot myself. Are you well, and why were you waiting for me?”
Richard shuffled his feet and crossed and uncrossed his arms. It perplexed Darcy to see his confident cousin, a colonel in His Majesty’s Army, nervous. If anything, he looked more agitated that moment than before.
Gulping a large breath, Richard said in a rushed exhale, “I wish to stay at Rosings longer.”
That was the last thing Darcy had expected to hear. Richard enjoyed Aunt Catherine’s company as much as he did. Their yearly visits were made merely out of a sense of familial duty. Anything more would only encourage Aunt Catherine in her obstinate wish that Darcy marry Anne. Richard knew this.
“I see the reply on your face, but I must beg of you to reconsider. Please, Darcy, I so rarely ask favors of you. Let us stay for two more days. That is all I ask.”
“Whatever for?” Darcy regretted having made the pact to stay together during their visits to Rosings. Richard had made it sound so honorable: something about never leaving a man in the hands of the enemy alone.
“I have a matter of great importance to discuss with Aunt Catherine.” He stopped, leaving Darcy waiting for more details.
After an awkward silence, where it became clear to Darcy that Richard would share nothing more, Darcy slapped the letter he had toiled over against his hand. He felt certain that it would cast a kinder light on his actions. However, its impact would be greater felt in his absence. At least, that was the reasoning he used to justify leaving so that he might lick his wounds in the comfort of his home. He would have to wait to give it to Miss Elizabeth.
His heart sinking at his lost opportunity to raise her low opinion of him, Darcy tucked the letter back into his coat pocket. How he wished he could deny his cousin’s request. The grin spreading over Richard’s face at his resignation to stay brought only a small measure of comfort to his upset plan.
Slapping Darcy on the arms, Richard said, “I knew I could count on you. If all goes well, I will tell you everything. If not…. If it does not go well, then I hope you will allow me to spare my injured pride by keeping the matter buried.”
Darcy shook his head at Richard’s cryptic language. He had no intention of sharing the news of Miss Elizabeth’s emphatic refusal, so he understood Richard very well. “Whatever your endeavor, I wish you success.”
“Thank you, but now it is my turn to apologize. You mentioned something about me confirming the contents of a letter?”
“No mind. I pray you do not concern yourself over it.”
He left Richard pacing at the bottom of the stairs as he continued out of the door. Over the past week, Darcy had grown accustomed to walking over the property. He justified it by telling himself that he did it to suggest improvements or repairs to Aunt Catherine’s steward, but his eyes searched for a young lady walking without a bonnet. He knew it was foolish of him, but he wanted to erase the look of hurt and anger he had last seen on her beautiful face. He craved the sight of her smile.
Darcy walked for the better part of an hour, going to Miss Elizabeth’s favorite spots, before he saw her coming around a bend in the road. Nothing could have prepared him for the clenching in his gut at the sight of her lovely figure gracing the path she walked upon. Tempted momentarily to shrink behind a tree, Darcy pulled his thoughts together and tried to catch his breath and keep his dignity. His fingers twitched to deliver the letter he had painstakingly written the night before. Why not? His absence was not necessary, only more comfortable.
Decided, he pulled it out of his pocket. Only, Miss Elizabeth was not alone. Miss Lucas was with her. He could not deliver a letter to an unmarried woman he had no right to claim an attachment to. Especially before a witness who would surely tell Mr. Collins, thus adding to Miss Elizabeth’s misery and her worsening opinion of him. It was wicked of him, but he would not mind a forced marriage with her. If he were not convinced that she would hate him forever for taking her freedom away so cavalierly, he would be tempted….
He turned away into a small grove of trees to let the ladies pass by undisturbed. It would not do to startle them, and he did not want to give Miss Elizabeth any further cause to criticize his actions. The letter would have to wait.
Lengthening his gait, he returned to Rosings in short time with every intention of riding his favorite horse. He had not yet inspected the fences along the western edge of the property, and now was as good a time as any— even though Richard had undoubtedly seen to it by now. Richard rode the property every day to exercise his new mount— a handsome stallion worthy of the polished saddle on its back and the colonel.
Aunt Catherine’s steward was a capable man, but he fought an uphill battle to see that funds which were used to support her lifestyle were not diminished by needed repairs or the welfare of her tenants. Rosings provided a comfortable living, but it was not enough for Aunt Catherine. She wanted more. She wanted Darcy’s money.
A quick trip up to his room to change into clothes more suitable for riding and he would be on his way. Slipping into the entrance hall, he was half-way to the stairs when Simmons addressed him. “Mr. Darcy, her ladyship wishes to speak with you. Let me accompany you to her drawing room.” The butler extended his arm in the direction of Aunt Catherine’s preferred room.
Preparing himself for another verbal skirmish about his marital plans, he straightened his shoulders and walked through the dark antechamber to her room.
Sitting in a gilded chair, her hair piled on top of her head like a silver crown, she did not motion for him to sit down, but let him stand in front of her as one accused.
Anne sat off to the side next to her loyal companion, Mrs. Jenkinson. Her pale hands clasped, Anne shook her head at Darcy with wide eyes.
Richard sat opposite them, avoiding eye contact with Darcy.
Aunt Catherine’s voice cracked like a whip through the room, making Anne flinch and Mrs. Jenkinson reach out to calm her. “Have you disgraced our family by engaging yourself to another?”
Chapter 3
Elizabeth walked with Maria into Hunsford, her bonnet swaying with each step she took from the ribbon weaved through her fingers.
Though not quite so large as Meryton, the trip into the small village afforded Elizabeth the chance to escape the parsonage, so when Maria had expressed a desire to walk into Hunsford, she had jumped at the opportunity to accompany her. Her friendship with the girl closer in age to Lydia than to herself had grown over the past few weeks as their stay in Hunsford progressed. Maria, though nearly the age to be presented at court and enter society, was excessively naive and tried too hard not to seem awkward in front of strangers. Once she found
confidence in herself, she would fare well. In the meantime, her shy attempts to act more sophisticated than she was endeared her to Elizabeth.
Cutting into her meditations, Maria said, “How exciting it will be to dine once again at Rosings tomorrow. Such grandeur and luxury! It is kind of Lady Catherine to condescend to invite us so often.”
Elizabeth hid her scowl with a smile. “Indeed. The food is very good, and the addition of Colonel Fitzwilliam brings liveliness to the conversation.”
Maria blushed. “His manners are charming, but he is not so handsome as Mr. Darcy.”
Elizabeth felt Maria’s keen eyes looking at her. Why was it that every conversation led to Mr. Darcy? Since she had refused him, nobody spoke of anything else! “I will not deny that Mr. Darcy is handsome, although his manners leave much to be desired. Let us not talk of him.” She did not have many pleasant things to say, yet her own manners did not allow her to malign him in detail outside of the confines of her own thoughts.
Tying her bonnet on, she resumed walking. Her pace, no matter how fast it was, could not keep ahead of the invasive thoughts of Mr. Darcy. Someone had passed by in a carriage not long after he left the parsonage. What if someone had found out that he had called on her whilst unattended? What if she were forced to marry Mr. Darcy after refusing him? And what a refusal it had been. It had been one of those rare moments in time when the exact words flowed off the tip of her tongue to express the intensity and clarity of her sentiments.
After a few minutes, as the first thatched roofs became visible, Maria called out, “Not so fast, Lizzy. Please, slow down.”
Slackening her pace, Elizabeth turned to see Maria several strides behind her. “I apologize. My eagerness to send this letter to Jane increased my pace overmuch.” She had written a lengthy narration of her activities since her last letter, carefully leaving out any mention of the offensive gentleman responsible for Jane’s solitary exile in London.
Catching up, Maria said, “No matter. I only do not want to mottle my complexion before we go into the shop. Mrs. Baxter watches me like a hawk as it is.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Mrs. Baxter has a son your age who watches you every bit as intensely as she does.”
Maria looked down, her cheeks reddening. “Do you really think he notices me? I am not used to young gentlemen paying me any heed. They are all afraid of Father, and it is impossible to receive any attention with…” She stopped abruptly and avoided Elizabeth’s amused gaze.
“… with my sisters around? Is that what you were going to say? If it was, my dear Maria, you would only be speaking the truth. Kitty and Lydia make no secret of their flirtations. Their need to be admired extends far beyond their want for sense.” Elizabeth wrapped her arm through Maria’s to assure her that no offense was taken.
Maria relaxed. “Sometimes, I do wish I could be more like them. How lovely it would be to throw caution to the wind and act as one wished instead of always doing what is proper and expected. How I should like to do just one impulsive deed!”
Elizabeth squeezed her arm. “You must not take society’s expectations too much to heart lest it rob you of your spirit. So long as you do not bend the rules too much, you will find that most people are forgiving of a few eccentricities.” Like Mr. Darcy. Several times, he had caught her walking unattended and had engaged her in conversation. When she spoke her opinion freely, he openly debated a point with her. She had thought she had offended him with the freedoms she allowed herself— with the freedoms society would take away from her— but instead, it had won him over. She shook her head, still unable to understand how he could possibly have grown to love her as he said when she had done nothing to encourage him.
Maria unwound her arm from Elizabeth’s, who only then realized how much she had been squeezing the poor girl. “I aim to live with more spirit, as you call it. Now that Father has returned to Lucas Lodge, I will have more opportunity to do so.”
Elizabeth pulled Jane’s letter out of her coat pocket. “Just promise you will not do anything that Lydia would do, and I think you will be safe. Freedom is precious, but if it is abused, it will be snatched away soon enough.” The hair on her arms stood on end as an image of a forced marriage to Mr. Darcy flashed before her eyes. Mother always assumed that, of all her daughters, it would be Mary who would be left on the shelf. Maybe they could share a small cottage together. Elizabeth preferred Jane’s company, but she still held hope that Mr. Bingley would return to Netherfield Park to propose to her sister. How difficult it had been for her not to include Mr. Darcy’s admission that he was the cause for their separation in her letter. But it would only add to Jane’s sadness.
Maria chattered at her side, but Elizabeth heard little as she went through the motions of posting her letter, and they entered the shop to see if the past week had brought anything new and worth seeing to the shelves.
Mrs. Baxter smiled with her lips, but her eyes were alert and serious. “Good morning, Miss Bennet. Miss Lucas.” She spoke in a clipped voice.
Over in a corner was her son— a tall, thin lad of sixteen years. He leaned against the broom in his hands, his eyes following Maria’s every move.
“Matthew. Matthew.” Mrs. Baxter cleared her throat. “Matthew!”
Losing his balance, young Mr. Baxter nearly tripped over his broom. “Yes, ma'am,” he said as he righted himself and looked in Maria’s direction to see if she had seen his blunder. As if she could miss it.
Mrs. Baxter took the broom away from him before he could poke himself or someone else with it. “I want you to move the bags of flour from the far wall in the storage room so that they are closer for me. This one here is almost empty.”
From what Elizabeth could see, the bag of flour behind the counter was recently opened.
Stepping over to a shelf which held some magazines, Elizabeth looked through them, waving Maria over to join her. Mr. Baxter was in enough trouble already, and Maria’s close proximity did nothing to improve his lot.
“Look, Maria, Mrs. Baxter has the newest edition of Lady’s Monthly Museum. I think even Mr. Collins would approve, its focus being on the improvement of the mind and moral living.” Elizabeth would rather read a novel than a magazine, but her purpose was to occupy Maria until Mrs. Baxter quit staring at her.
“I much prefer La Belle Assemblée.” Maria pulled out the thick magazine and placed it on top of the shelf. “He would not approve of this. Nor would Father.” In a lower voice, she added, “In Meryton, I admit to flipping through the pages when the shopkeeper was not looking to catch glimpses of the beautiful dresses inside.”
Elizabeth looked up at Mrs. Baxter. The woman occupied herself by sorting cards of lace according to color in a neat box between glances toward the magazine shelf. “I do not think we could flip through half the magazine before Mrs. Baxter would take notice and complain to Mr. Collins. We had best take our leave.”
Maria pouted. “What good is it to have a shop full of lovely things when the customers cannot enjoy perusing?” She looked longingly at the magazine, her fingers trailing along the top of the cover as they turned to the front door.
A loud crash and a groan from the storage room startled Elizabeth. Mrs. Baxter charged into the back room.
The sounds of scuffles and grunts reached out to them.
Mrs. Baxter soon came out, brushing the flour off her hands. Elizabeth bit her cheeks to keep from laughing when she saw young Mr. Baxter standing in the doorway, covered in the white powder. He looked like a ghost.
Maria tugged Elizabeth’s coat sleeve, “Come; let us go.”
Bidding a good day to the Baxters, they left, walking a fair distance from the door before they burst into laughter. Elizabeth laughed louder and longer than she needed to, but the relief it brought her eased her turbulent heart.
When she could catch her breath, Elizabeth said, “Good. We have had our fun. Now, we shall return to the parsonage to hear the result of Mr. Collins’ extensive research for his next sermon.”
Maria chuckled and stiffly grabbed her ribs.
Concerned, Elizabeth asked, “Are you well?”
With a weak voice, Maria said, “I laughed so hard, my side hurts.”
“It was quite a sight. I thought I should burst when I saw Mr. Baxter come out covered in flour. I imagine his mother was cross with him and made him sweep up the mess, though she very clearly was the cause of his unfortunate accident.”
She was careful not to make Maria laugh all the way to the parsonage. The girl clutched her side and grimaced every so often.
Charlotte sat in her favorite chair, embroidering on a christening gown. Though her sewing box was in her sitting room, the lighting was better in the front parlor.
“Maria, are you well?” she asked as they entered. The girl still clasped her aching side.
Maria mumbled that she needed to lay down for a spell as she continued without a pause up the stairs.
“You will not guess what happened at Mrs. Baxter’s shop!” said Elizabeth as she sat down on her perch in front of the window to relate a scene-by-scene description of young Mr. Baxter’s woes.
Chapter 4
Darcy stood in shock. Did Aunt Catherine know of his proposal to Miss Elizabeth? He kept his gaze level and his face neutral, but his heart hammered in his chest.
Aunt raised her chin and stabbed the cushioned arm of her chair with her pointy nails. “Tell me immediately why you have not yet offered for Anne.”
Darcy glared at Richard. Over the years, he had taken great strides to time his visits and cut his stay short to avoid this very confrontation. What could he say that had not already been said? He had managed to escape in time before, but thanks to his cousin, he would not be so fortunate that day.
Standing tall and speaking with unwavering confidence, he replied, “We have not married because we do not desire to do so. There would be no love in our match outside of the familial bond we enjoy as cousins.”
