by Jennifer Joy
Seeing that the colonel would not be of much help with two skittish horses in his care, Elizabeth knelt down next to Mr. Darcy so that she could hold the pig’s feet and allow the gentleman to stand.
“Thank you,” he said, a scowl on his face.
Wrapping his arms around the pig’s middle, he asked, “Where does this thing belong, Mrs. Collins?”
Rushing forward, Charlotte said, “Oh, no. Please, Mr. Darcy, we will make sure it gets back into its pen. You need not trouble yourself.”
Elizabeth shook her head at her overly polite friend.
Mr. Darcy, scowl still in place, said, “Nonsense. If I loosen my hold, this ingrate will only escape again.”
“Very well,” said Charlotte as she led the way back to the pig’s pen.
They walked in silence back to the parsonage. Elizabeth did not remember running that great a distance, but the pig had covered a good deal of ground.
When the house was in view, Elizabeth chanced a glance at Mr. Darcy. She expected to see a trickle of sweat running down his brow, but there was nothing. Only a deep furrow.
As a giggle bubbled up through her throat, she wished she had not looked at him. It was ridiculous that such a fine gentleman who took himself much too seriously should be carrying a pig like it was a small child.
The pig’s ears flopped with each step, and it looked like it was having a jolly time in Mr. Darcy’s arms. It even looked like it was smiling.
That was all Elizabeth could bear. No longer able to stifle her laughter, she looked at Colonel Fitzwilliam, whom she knew she could rely on for understanding, and laughed with such delight that her stomach soon hurt.
She avoided looking at Mr. Darcy again, lest the sight renew her laughter and upset the gentleman more than she already had. But the pig joined in with its grunts and snorts, and Elizabeth peeked up through her lashes to see Mr. Darcy in the height of a large grin.
The sight almost stifled her laughter. It certainly was not what she had expected to see. Mr. Darcy’s eyes lit up and his lips curled up in the corners so bewitchingly that she had difficulty looking away from. Disarmed by his smile, she focused on the happy pig bobbing up and down in his arms.
They filed through the gate, the colonel waiting just outside with the horses. Elizabeth was grateful that at least he had laughed with her. He was a merry sort.
As Charlotte closed the latch to the pig pen and gave an accusatory glare to its resident, she turned to thank Mr. Darcy. He brushed off the front of his white cravat and cream colored waistcoat, but nothing short of the talents of his valet would remove the dirt stains running from his cravat down to his buckskin breeches. Even his boots were scuffed.
Looking back up to him, Elizabeth jumped when their eyes locked. He had caught her inspecting him. Oh, she hoped he did not take that as encouragement. One rescue of an escaped pig would not change the inclination of her drumming heart.
He lifted his hand as if he would touch her cheek or pull a twig out of her hair, but stopped himself short. She let out her breath.
With a curt bow, Mr. Darcy left for the gate.
Elizabeth felt that she should say something. Following him up to the gate, she hesitated while everyone else went indoors. She caressed the soft velvet muzzle of his horse as he mounted.
"Thank you, Mr. Darcy," she managed to say through her embarrassment. She felt her ears burn and she hated her complexion for showing him her feelings.
Looking at her with an intensity which made her wish the ground would swallow her whole, he said in a soft baritone, "Think nothing of it, Miss Bennet." The tenderness in his voice released something inside her, and she relaxed. She did not know Mr. Darcy well, but she understood that he did not think any worse of her. Smiling feebly back at him, wanting him to think well of her, but not so well that he might propose again, she bid him and the colonel good day, and they rode in the direction of Rosings.
Charlotte had rearranged her hair and looked none the worse for their chase. The exercise cast a healthy pink glow to her cheeks.
Maria sat next to her by the window in the front parlor facing the garden.
"How fortuitous that Mr. Darcy showed up when he did. Otherwise, we would have chased that horrid pig all the way into Hunsford." Charlotte fanned her face with her hand and sunk back into her chair.
Elizabeth hurried upstairs to change her dress. She could not sit on Charlotte's impeccable furniture with a dirty derriere.
When she returned downstairs, Charlotte and Maria were discussing the possible means the pig had of escaping. Elizabeth sat quietly, careful not to add her opinion nor draw unnecessary attention to herself.
After some minutes, Charlotte said, "You are uncommonly quiet, Lizzy. If I did not know better, I would think that you know something you are unwilling to share." She said it as if it was a dare. Her eyes defied Elizabeth.
Elizabeth looked at Maria and said, "Now would be a good time."
Looking back and forth between the two, Charlotte asked, "A good time for what?"
Maria, her eyes tearing and her face reddening, sat forward in her chair, wringing her hands in her lap. "You see..." she began.
Just as she started to speak, Mr. Collins burst through the door in an agitated state. "I think I know who took Miss de Bourgh's earrings!" he said in triumph.
Chapter 14
Darcy endured Richard's teasing all the way back to Rosings. Not that the distance was great from the parsonage, but it felt like it.
While he did not particularly like being laughed at, it had brought him great pleasure to cause a smile to pass Miss Elizabeth's lips. Knowing he was the reason behind the smile and her bubbling laughter helped him endure the taunting of his cousin and his own embarrassment at participating in such an undignified chase.
Tiring of Richard's comments, Darcy said, "I noticed how you stood by, sitting comfortably on your horse. Why did you not help?" It was more an accusation than a question requiring an answer.
"And miss the fun of watching you tackle that feisty beast?" Richard burst into laughter again. "There is nothing on this earth which would cause me to miss such entertainment. Never in my life have I thought you would do such a thing. I am in awe, Darcy!"
Darcy still could not believe it himself. What had possessed him? As soon as the question passed through his mind, he knew the answer. Miss Elizabeth had needed his assistance. She had come running toward him in pursuit of an animal she could not hope to gain in her tired state. Her cheeks were flushed, strands of hair fell around her face and down her back, her dress would have caused Miss Bingley to go into fits at the dirt which ran down the front and back. Not unlike him, he thought as he looked down at his stained cravat. His valet would not be pleased.
"Let us hope that we can sneak past Aunt Catherine lest she sees me in disarray. We have been out all morning, and she will demand to know where we have been." Darcy handed his horse over to the stable boy, and together with Richard, he walked into the house, aiming for the stairs so that he might change before anyone saw him.
"Darcy! Is that you?" a shrill voice sounded from the drawing room. Simmons, who stood silently by the door and had seen the state of Darcy's clothes, raised his finger up to his lips and motioned for him to continue upstairs.
Darcy took the stairs two at a time. The butler would give some excuse for his delay, but Aunt Catherine would not wait long.
Richard, the good nephew that he was, waited downstairs in case she should require him as well.
Darcy's valet said nothing about the state of his clothes. He only pursed his lips as he held them out to inspect the damage. With gratitude, Darcy donned the clean clothes he promptly laid out and hurried downstairs to see what Aunt Catherine wanted.
She sat in her favorite room, holding court from her gilded chair.
"Darcy, what took you so long? I have been waiting," she complained.
"I do apologize, Aunt. I went into Hunsford with Richard earlier this morning and had to change c
lothes to make myself presentable." Unless it came from Richard, she would never hear about the pig incident. He was certain the residents of the Hunsford parsonage would guard their silence.
She huffed like a spoiled child and extended her arm out to the chair in front of her.
Inclining her head over to the couch to acknowledge Mrs. Jenkinson's presence, she continued, "I want to discuss Anne's future with you. Every year you allow to pass weighs on me, Darcy. Anne is getting older, as are you, and yet, you have not married."
She expected an answer to a question she never asked. Darcy knew very well where the conversation was heading, and he would do nothing to make it easier for her.
With another huff, she continued, "I have called Mrs. Jenkinson here as my witness to hear you declare when you plan to announce your engagement to Anne. Like me, she has Anne's best interests at heart, and I feel that it is time that we let Mr. Collins read the banns so that you can marry before summer."
Mrs. Jenkinson nodded her agreement, looking every bit as presumptuous as his aunt. Of course, she was paid to follow suit. Darcy could not blame her for that.
Sitting stiffly in his chair, Darcy said, "I do not agree to have the banns read, for I have not entered into a commitment with my cousin. This engagement that you conjured up with my mother is as distasteful to Anne as it is to me."
Raising her chin and flaring her nostrils, Aunt Catherine said, "You dare defy the wishes of your superiors? You would cast Anne off as if she had no worth? How dare you, Darcy!" Her eyes were icy gray and as hard as sleet.
He felt his body tense. In no way was he in the wrong. Not once had he been consulted about his future plans for marriage. Neither had Anne. When he had asked Anne what she wanted, she had been clear that she did not want him. Still, his manners would not allow him to openly offend Aunt Catherine while he was a guest in her home. He would do what he could to preserve peace, but he would not give in to her wish that he marry Anne.
"Have you asked Anne if she would even have me as her husband? Do her wishes mean so little to you?"
"Anne does not know what she wants. She relies on others to guide her for her benefit. As her mother, I know what is best for her interests. I am surprised that you do not place more respect on the wishes of your blessed mother."
That was a low blow, and it cut Darcy more than he would let on. He had loved his mother— respected her even. But where Darcy's happiness was concerned, his mother had been dreadfully wrong. She had been content with her arranged marriage, but Darcy could never consent to a lifetime of insipid conversation and dullness. He craved to feel things to their fullest— the desired happiness, love, passion... even the anger, hurt, and disappointment that naturally came along with a life lived fully. He wanted Miss Elizabeth with all her excited conversation and refreshing impulsiveness.
"Mother was an exceptional lady, and I respect the values she inculcated in me, but if I were to agree to marry Anne, it would go against the very ideals she worked so hard to instill. It would be a lie. I could never make Anne happy in the way she deserves, and I am convinced that I am the last man in the world to make her happy. If you place any importance on her happiness, I encourage you to speak with her. She does not want me."
"What do you say, Mrs. Jenkinson? Has Anne said anything implying that she is unwilling to marry Darcy?"
Mrs. Jenkinson spoke without hesitation. "No, your ladyship. All these years I have been her companion, she has never expressed any opinion contrary to yours."
Aunt Catherine looked triumphantly at Darcy. "You see? Anne is agreeable. I will send for Collins and have him read the banns this week."
"No. This is my future you are talking about, and I thank you to leave any decisions concerning it to me," Darcy said as calmly as he could. How many times would they have the same conversation?
She narrowed her eyes and looked down the slope of her nose at him. "You have not betrayed Anne by falling in love with someone else, have you?”
Unable to answer the question honestly, and resenting being asked yet again, he replied, “How could I possibly betray Anne if I have not agreed to marry her? I have never encouraged her affection, and she made it clear to me when I asked that she reciprocates my distaste of the match.”
“You did not answer the question, nephew. Are you in love with another?”
“If I were, would it free me of your insistence that I marry Anne?”
“No. You are under obligation to your family. You must seek the benefit of your family over your own selfish desires.”
Darcy clenched his jaw so hard, his head ached. He was more determined than ever not to give in. He was not acting selfishly as she accused him. Her wish to continue in her extravagances at the sacrifice of her own daughter and himself was deplorable, and he would take no part in it.
“I am under no obligation to you,” he said, his voice steady.
“You have until the end of the week, Darcy."
He rose to leave before he lost complete control of his tongue. How dare she threaten him. Did she not realize that he could simply leave?
Calling after him, she said, "Do not forget, Darcy. You are to help me find proof against Miss Bennet and Miss Lucas. I want an arrest to be made soon."
Darcy froze in place. He forced his shoulders down, though they had crept up close to his ears. It was only by his persuasion that she had not already sent Miss Elizabeth and Miss Lucas to the constable. He had to find out who was behind the theft of his cousin's earrings— to find out what tricks Aunt Catherine employed— or else risk losing the one woman he loved forever. That took precedence over everything.
With renewed determination, Darcy crossed the entrance hall to go outside. He was more convinced than ever that Aunt Catherine only used Anne’s earrings as a ploy, and he wanted to sort through the facts he knew to test the strength of his theory before presenting it to Richard.
Chapter 15
Elizabeth stared in disbelief at Mr. Collins. Unless someone walked up to him and said, "Here are the diamond earrings. I stole them," she could not imagine a circumstance where he would be the one to solve the crime before anyone else.
Charlotte must have had similar inclinations. She asked, "What? Has someone confessed?"
Stepping into the room and asking the maid for a little something to calm his nerves, he sat down with them. He slapped his hands together, wrung them, and slapped them again, as if he were trying to figure out the most dramatic way to tell his story.
"It all began when I went to call on her ladyship to inform her of my findings in our humble home. I knew it would please her greatly to hear how seriously we take the matter and of the thoroughness of my inspection. It so happened that as I crossed the lawn from one side, I saw another man cross from the other end. He is not the sort to be allowed entry to her ladyship, and his presence at the threshold quite shocked me. Uncertain as to how to proceed, I promptly hid behind a bush. I do not think he, nor anyone else, saw me."
"That was quick thinking," thought Elizabeth.
Reveling in his cleverness so long, she thought it would take the rest of the afternoon to hear his story, Charlotte came to the rescue. She asked, "Then what? Who was the gentleman?"
"I had hoped you would ask," he said, rubbing his hands together. "I had not thought that Lady Catherine would allow such an individual entry into her dwelling. His coat was cut in the latest fashion, but was made of inferior fabric. So, suspecting that her ladyship might be in some kind of danger, I took it upon myself to ensure her safety when he was left standing outside."
Elizabeth kept her mouth shut, but she could not control her thoughts so well. "You protected her from behind the bush? How very brave."
Charlotte gave her a look that made her determined to behave. What a pity her friend knew her so well. It was almost as if she were reading her thoughts. She stifled a laugh, pursing her lips together and nodding in attention to the noble protector of his patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh.
/> "He did not remain long at the door before he was denied entry, so I took it upon myself to follow him into Hunsford. He is lodged at Mrs. Shepherd's tavern."
Charlotte gasped, "You went inside the tavern?"
Mr. Collins had the decency to blush and fresh beads of sweat covered his forehead. Nodding in a most grave manner, he said, "I felt it imperative upon me to do so. These are a special set of circumstances, and I could not have the man threaten her ladyship when there is a thief about."
That made the second time Mr. Collins cast an unfavorable light on the man. Elizabeth asked, "What was it about the man that made him appear threatening?" A coat made of inferior fabric was not enough to judge a man.
"He dressed the part of a man seeking to look greater than his born station. From the little I know on the subject of fashion, he seemed to be dressed in it. He is not from here, as I have never had occasion to see him before."
Elizabeth wondered when Mr. Collins had occasion to know anything at all about men’s fashion, but she decided against pressing for more information. He had yet to reveal who he thought the thief was. By all rights, he suspected the man he had just described.
"Do you believe him to be the thief?" asked Charlotte, leaning forward in her chair.
"No, indeed, though he did look the part. But I will get to that. I must beg your patience as I continue. I do not want to forget even the smallest detail, lest it be of the utmost importance."
Elizabeth sat back in her chair. They would be there for a while, and she might as well make herself comfortable.
Rubbing his hands together yet again to restore his memory, he picked up where he left off. "Ah, yes, I followed the man into the tavern, and learned through discreet questioning that Mr. Badger is his name. I asked him politely what his business was at Rosings. At first, he did not want to confide any details in me, but I condescended to inform him of my position with the family de Bourgh. He must have been impressed because he spoke openly and, I believe, honestly of his business with Lady Catherine's nephew."
