Darcy & Elizabeth: A Season of Courtship (Darcy Saga Prequel Duo)

by Sharon Lathan

  Today he woke after a deep, restful sleep long after the scheduled sunrise. As on each morning since his betrothal seven days ago, his heart smoothly transitioned from the rapture of dreams with Elizabeth to the blissful anticipation of spending the day in her company. Parting the drapes confirmed what he had presumed by the room’s gray dimness: a sky dotted with dark clouds, and a sun that failed to break through them. It was not raining yet, and from the looks of things, it could go either way, but weather had no impact upon his mood. All it meant was their afternoon together would be spent inside rather than outside, and as long as he was with Elizabeth, it mattered naught.

  Shortly after noon, the carriage sent for the Bennet sisters arrived. Darcy and Bingley welcomed their ladies with reserved affection, ushering them quickly into the warmed parlor. For the first day since the announced Darcy–Bennet engagement, and even longer for Mr. Bingley, the couples had no set agenda for the afternoon and no social appointments for the evening. All four of the persons involved were relieved to be free and, in light of this astounding development, had jokingly vowed to let whimsy and spontaneity rule.

  Caroline Bingley was present when Jane and Lizzy arrived but remained oddly subdued throughout the afternoon. Not that anyone paid her much heed, which may have been one reason she was sulky. Then again, sulky and Caroline went hand in hand, so who could say for sure? Certainly not Mr. Darcy, or even her own brother, and since their attentions were largely captured by their fiancées, efforts to diagnose Caroline Bingley were nil.

  The first two hours flew by. Luncheon consisted of finger sandwiches, fruits, assorted cheeses and breads, bite-sized cold meats, and sweet cakes for dessert, food easy to nibble in gradual intervals between conversation and laughter.

  “We received a letter from our Aunt Gardiner this morning,” Jane quietly interjected at one point. “She confirmed that she and our uncle will return to London by the twentieth or thereabouts. As we anticipated, they insist Lizzy and I come to Town to shop for our wedding dresses and trousseau.”

  “It makes perfect sense.” Darcy nodded. “Your choices are ample in Town. No point in being limited to what is available for ladies of your class here in Meryton.”

  Darcy noted Lizzy hiding a smile by biting into a sandwich, belatedly realizing he spoke in his lofty, arrogant tone laced with condescension. Of course, what he had said, strictly speaking, was the truth, so she could not fault him for that. Still, he waited for a teasing rebuke and was surprised when she kept on chewing. More startling was that Caroline did not jump on the unintended slur with her own pointed one. But Caroline was staring out a far window and did not seem to have heard.

  Lizzy cast a glance in Caroline’s direction, apparently expecting a comment as Darcy had, but when nothing came, she shrugged. “We are making our lists so we will be prepared, and Papa is already cringing.”

  “Only because you add items that we would never buy, the sole purpose being to watch Papa blanch and splutter,” Jane accused.

  Darcy chuckled while Bingley’s mouth dropped open.

  “What are you requesting, Miss Lizzy?” Bingley had loosened enough to use her family pet name, but refused to relinquish the Miss appellative.

  “Oh, nothing too terrifying or unreasonable really,” she answered airily. “Only that I wanted my gown to be spun silk with a four-foot train. That I needed a fan of white dove feathers in case I feel faint at the altar. And that I have always dreamed of yellow daisies for my bouquet.”

  “I do believe it was the tiara that finally tipped Papa that you were jesting.”

  “A tiara? Along with a four-foot train? That is ostentatious even by my standards!” Darcy choked out between laughs. Lizzy winked at him. “If you really want a fan of dove feathers, my dear, I can find one for you. Yellow daisies this time of year are a tall order, however, so you must suffer the disappointment.”

  “I shall try to bear it,” she sighed dramatically. “Actually, my ridiculous requests are not solely for the purpose of testing the limits of Papa’s gullibility. I was hoping the fright of us emptying his coffers willy-nilly would encourage him to insist on chaperoning Jane and I to Town in lieu of Mama.”

  Darcy could readily imagine that intensive shopping amongst the crowded streets of London would not be a pleasant chore with Mrs. Bennet complaining every step of the way. He shuddered inwardly at the thought but, out of kindness, said nothing. Bingley, however, did not tie the pieces together.

  “I would have thought your mother a preferred companion for purchasing gowns and…other female necessities. Mr. Bennet surely would be of little assistance.”

  “Papa is wiser with money than Mama, Mr. Bingley,” Jane explained in her soft voice, a hand placed onto Lizzy’s arm signaling her wish to respond rather than her sister. Considering Lizzy would undoubtedly be a bit more blunt, Darcy had to agree with Jane. “He can appreciate the quality and cost of products better than Mama. And of course, Mr. Gardiner is familiar with many of the merchants, and our aunt as well. Above that, Papa has traveled to Town frequently over the years, and lived there for a time while young and at Oxford. Thus, he is comfortable with the streets, traffic, rules, and the like.”

  “Indeed, Mr. Bennet does sound a wiser choice,” Darcy agreed, sincerely meaning it for a host of reasons. “Aware as I am of Mr. Gardiner’s professionalism and connections and Mrs. Gardiner’s fine taste, I trust they will excellently fulfill your needs. Bear in mind that Bingley and I are residents of London as well. If there are any specific items either of you ladies require or want, enlighten us and we can more than likely point you in the right direction or acquire it for you.”

  “Oh yes! Absolutely! Say the word, dear Jane, and it shall be yours! Anything at all!”

  At Bingley’s ardent promise, Jane flushed and stared into her lap. Lizzy’s eyes widened and darted to Darcy. For a moment he could not understand their reactions. Then it hit him. Long used to living within the modest means Mr. Bennet was able to provide, the concept of another substantially wealthier man buying, almost literally, anything they might desire was foreign and uncomfortable. Moreover, he gleaned they were embarrassed over either gentleman presuming the innocent topic was a devious ploy to acquire costly baubles.

  Marrying advantageously was nothing to be ashamed of. Men, as well as women, were expected to obtain mates with prospective benefits as the impetus. The majority of people probably did presume the Bennet sisters had chosen Darcy and Bingley based on their wealth, without casting a negative aspersion upon them for doing so. It was wise for a woman to secure a stable future and better her place in society in the process if able. Neither Darcy nor Bingley would have condemned Lizzy and Jane if good sense influenced their decision.

  Nevertheless, the joy in being accepted for their character and personality, to be loved as men rather than a name or bank account balance, was a priceless gift. Privately, they had spoken of this blessed reality, both men humbled by their great fortune. They were also thankful to be capable of ensuring the women they loved would forever be financially secure. Furnishing them with trinkets and finery was merely a bonus they hungered to do.

  Darcy and Bingley shared a comprehensive glance as they silently considered how best to defuse the awkward tension and reassure their fiancées. Unfortunately, Caroline rallied first.

  “How happy you must now be, Jane dear, and you as well, Miss Eliza, to have your whims and fancies eagerly fulfilled. Ensnaring rich gentlemen has such delightful perks, does it not? But of course, this is surely not a revelation to either of you.” Caroline smiled her standard cold smirk and glanced from her brother to Darcy, one brow raised and an obvious, Did I not tell you they were opportunists, stupid men? message written on her face.

  “Caroline—” Bingley began in a strained tone but was interrupted by Lizzy.

  Ignoring Caroline, she lifted her chin and looked directly at the two men, “You are kind, Mr. Bingley, Mr. Darcy. I know I speak for Jane when I say that we appreciate your o
ffers in recognition of the generous spirit they were extended. However, for the present, we are content to trust Mr. Bennet’s excellent provision, as we have for over twenty years. We want for nothing and never have; thus we are confident that whatever we require for the wedding and entrance into the matrimonial state will be procured sufficiently.”

  “The only fancy I have ever been eager to have fulfilled is mutual regard and affection with a worthy gentlemen.” Jane smiled demurely at Bingley. “In this alone, I am richer than a queen. The costliest object imaginable is worthless in comparison.”

  Bingley beamed.

  Caroline huffed.

  “As always, my sister expresses with poetic phrases superior to what I can manage,” Lizzy laughingly proclaimed. Gazing playfully at Darcy, she qualified, “I would have said that my fancy was for a man to argue with, provided he allow me to win at least some of the time. And if he is an adequate dancer and with faults I can tease him about, then I am indeed rich beyond measure.”

  After that, Caroline retreated back into her sulkiness, saying little, and excused herself when the men returned to a previous chess match while Lizzy and Jane chatted softly over their needlework. Jane was the only one who acknowledged Caroline’s comment, nodding her head and smiling pleasantly until she was gone. A drizzling rain had begun, but the fire-lit parlor was cozy, and the foursome contentedly settled into the domestic interlude.

  It was nearly four when a footman entered the room, quietly crossing to the chessboard and delivering the day’s post. Bingley’s bundle consisted of three or four envelopes and one small package. He rifled through the letters, not opening any of them, and with a surreptitious glance toward Jane, who was intent on her embroidery hoop, shoved the package into his pocket.

  Darcy’s stack was thick, one bunch of envelopes tied together with twine. Like Bingley, Darcy flipped through the stack. He smiled at the second missive, that being from Georgiana, and hesitated. Deciding to wait and read it with Elizabeth, he pulled out the tied group. As suspected, these were from his solicitor, Mr. Daniels. Some, he knew, would pertain to various estate business matters and the monthly financial updates. The rest would be the betrothal settlement documents. All of them meant one thing: he could no longer delay a trip to London. It had been inevitable, of course, yet he still frowned as he resumed his survey of the mail.

  One letter was from Mrs. Reynolds, quite thick, so hopefully containing the requested information vital to begin shopping for his bride. A slim, dirty envelope came from Colonel Fitzwilliam, who Darcy prayed was announcing his imminent return to London. The larger envelope, with multiple stamps and markings indicating the long distance traveled, Darcy recognized as from his Uncle George even before looking at the scrawling penmanship. The last was a letter from Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

  At the latter, his frown increased. In no hurry to deal with his aunt, he had waited to write her of his engagement, doing so only four days ago. His letter had been formal and as unemotional as possible. He had reiterated his condemnation of her inappropriate abuse of Elizabeth Bennet, and clarified that her presence at their wedding was not desired. Knowing his aunt well, Darcy had anticipated a rebuttal, just not so soon.

  Darcy broke the seal and started reading. By the end of the first page, anger blinded him and erased the awareness of where he was. Bolting up from his chair, a vile curse passed his lips, and rage jerked him into motion as he stormed out of the room. Incoherently desperate for solitude to deal with his wrath, he made for the library. Once there, he paced and read.

  …Tragically wrong I have been to esteem you highly. You are selfish, Darcy. A spineless, weak fool enslaved to base whims and pathetic desires. Blinded to the consequences of your actions and irresponsible to your birthright…Infinitely unworthy of the revered Darcy name, and now a black mark on an ancient, respected house. The woe that shall fall upon Pemberley with this horrendous marriage is too catastrophic to fathom…Callously tossing aside Anne, whom you claimed to love and promised security, abandoning her to spinsterhood and a shattered heart…I beg God’s forgiveness while also thanking Him for taking your sainted parents from this earth before they could witness this unspeakable degradation. My dear, beloved Anne, who desired with all her heart to see our great houses merged, has been betrayed and her memory tainted by her only son’s selfish choice…

  Appalling! Damnable! The future forfeited by marrying a woman of low circumstances. How can you not see, Darcy? This scheming, sharp-tongued, classless girl as Mrs. Darcy? Oh, how it pains me! Elizabeth Bennet lacks beauty or grace, is devoid of style or wit, is uneducated, crass, and unaccomplished! This is to be the next Mistress of Pemberley? And Georgiana’s sister? Mark my words, Nephew, you will regret your decision in short order, Pemberley crumbling into a hovel while you escape the prison of a hellish union by living in Town…

  On and on she ranted, using different words to repeat the same dire prophecies and vicious attacks toward him and Elizabeth. He saw nothing humorous in the three-page harangue, other than a commendable command of adjectives, and that was insufficient in overcoming his fury. References to his parents’ shame and Anne’s tragedy were easily disregarded, since he knew those claims were blatant falsehoods.

  The reminder that his parents were gone, and therefore unable to be present at his wedding, caused the greatest pain. At the same time, it strengthened him. Darcy was absolutely certain his father and mother would have adored Elizabeth and rejoiced in his choice of wife. Knowing how utterly wrong Lady Catherine was on this count, and irrational to assert her knowledge of James and Anne Darcy was greater than his, revealed how preposterous all her opinions.

  Insane claims of woe and calamity were almost too laughable to be angry over. The slurs against his character he was far too self-confident to warrant, but it did hurt to have kin demean him so vociferously. This letter proved how dismal the prospect of repairing the rift, and his sadness blended with his animosity.

  As horrid as the rest, worse were the rabid attacks against Elizabeth. In his heart, she was his wife, and thus his responsibility to protect and defend. A gentleman of honor did not allow anyone to harm the people placed under his care. The feeling of impotence in this situation was galling. Sightlessly, he stared out the rain-splattered window, fighting to calm the tense fury suffusing his entire body.

  His head began to pound, the hammering rhythm ringing in his ears so that he heard nothing else. The gentle pressure on his arm might as well have been a fisted punch in his heightened state. Darcy jolted in surprise, swinging his glower to the offending interrupter.

  It was Elizabeth, and clearly his thunderous expression alarmed her. Flinching, she stepped back a half pace, and a flicker of remorse shot through him. Immediately it was gone, swallowed by his rage.

  “Leave me be, Elizabeth,” he commanded flatly.

  “No. Talk to me, William.”

  Darcy was flabbergasted at her direct refusal. No one dared ignore his orders—ever—especially when he was speaking in his authoritative voice. Yet there she was, petite hand lightly squeezing his arm, eyes tender and determined at the same time, and face boldly lifted toward his. She was so small and frail compared to him, but he had the distinct impression that he would fail if he tried to throw her over his shoulder and toss her out of the room.

  He clenched his jaw and turned back to the window. Fluttering the letter in the air, he snapped, “My aunt is not pleased about our engagement.”

  Well, there’s a massive understatement!

  Astoundingly, Elizabeth started laughing.

  “I find no humor in this, Elizabeth,” Darcy snarled.

  “Really, William! Did you imagine she would embrace me with open arms and host a party? Lady Catherine made her opinion of me quite clear at Longbourn, an event that we should essentially be thankful for since, left to your own devices, you may not have gotten up the nerve to propose again.” She said the last bit teasingly and rose onto her toes to kiss one cheek while caressing the
other.

  Darcy was torn between crushing her into his arms and lashing out by reading the contents of the letter. Neither was a sensible option. Growling in frustration, he stomped several paces away. He needed the distance, and time, to gain control over his tumultuous emotions.

  “William, I am indifferent to what your aunt has to say about me, or us. I love you with all my heart, and you love me. She cannot alter that, can she?”

  “Of course not!” he choked.

  “Then there is nothing to fear. Lady Catherine is angry at her dashed hopes for you and Anne. I am not a mother yet, but I can partly sympathize. It in no way justifies her actions or words, but you must try to understand a little.”

  He gripped the wooden edge of a chair back, jutting his jaw and frowning. “Elizabeth, it is more than that. She slandered you personally, your character and virtue and qualifications as my intended. This I cannot forgive!”

  Deliberately stepping toward him, she whispered, “Did you not initially doubt my qualifications and connections, beloved?”

  Darcy felt the blood drain from his face and his mouth drop open. Vaguely, he registered her calling him beloved. The wondrous development of hearing her first such endearment was sadly unable to offset the flood of shame and regret weakening every muscle in his body. For perhaps the first time, he fully comprehended how she felt during his offensive proposal in April.

  Before he drowned in pain and guilt, she closed the gap between them. Then she cupped his face with her warm hands and her glorious eyes were inches away, staring intently into his.