by Jann Rowland
Under normal circumstances, hearing his name bandied about by those present at a society function would have incensed Darcy. It was amazing what a change in perspective did for one’s temperament, for though he would still have been annoyed had he been in London and heard whispers of his attentions toward this gentleman’s daughter, or that young woman of pedigree, the name he heard on the lips of those present that night was not one to whom he did not wish to be connected.
It was no surprise that others should talk when the young lady in question was known to these people and had been so all her life. The way he stood with her that evening when she was not engaged on the dance floor, or watched her as she glided through the steps with another, rendered his preference no less than obvious. The ladies oohed and ahhed, the gentlemen sighed and looked on with envy, and the matrons spoke of their sure knowledge of the engagement which he would soon solemnize. None of it bothered Darcy, for he was far too focused on Miss Elizabeth.
Even overhearing Mrs. Bennet’s comments that evening was not enough to prevent his enjoyment; innocuous though they were, they would have offended the old Fitzwilliam Darcy.
“He is such a good and handsome man,” said the woman, not understanding how close he was when she spoke. “And so very attentive to Lizzy.”
“His income does not do him any harm in your eyes, I wager,” said another lady, the envy clear in her voice.
“A man’s position is a consideration,” said Mrs. Bennet; Darcy could hear the distinct coldness in her voice. “But it is not the only one. A woman must consider whether a man can support her—none of our daughters should marry militia officers with little to their names. Mr. Darcy, however, is more than a man possessing worldly goods. He is a man devoted to my daughter, and that is the most important consideration.”
“It is fortunate your daughters have caught the attention of such fine men,” said another woman, though her words sounded more wistful than envious. “They are such agreeable girls; I am prodigiously happy for them.”
“Do not concern yourself, Flora,” replied Mrs. Bennet. “Your nieces are lovely girls too. I am certain they will attract some gentleman before long.”
As Darcy moved away, he could not help but reflect how fortunate it was that Mrs. Bennet was a rational woman. If Miss Elizabeth had been cursed with a shrew for a mother, he did not know what he might have done.
During a break in the dancing, Darcy stood by the side of the dance floor with a cup of punch, speaking with Miss Elizabeth. Not far away, he noted Fitzwilliam speaking with Miss Lucas again, something which had seemed to have become something of a habit of late. When Miss Elizabeth excused herself for a moment, leaving Darcy standing by himself, Bingley approached with mischief in mind.
“Well, Darcy,” said he, taking in Darcy’s position by the side of the dance floor, “it seems you are intent upon standing by the dance floor in your usual stupid manner. I might have thought you would be more active tonight, given the inducement.”
It was a conversation that had played out many times between the friends. Whereas Bingley might abuse him for his lack of interest in being social, tonight he had not been so reticent, a fact his friend had not misunderstood.
“Perhaps I should prance about, eager to approve of all and sundry?” returned Darcy. “There are others in the present company who do just that, appearing silly while doing it.”
Bingley guffawed. “Perhaps there are. But that is no reason to be a misanthrope, Darcy. I declare, I have not seen you stand up more than a few times tonight. Are there not young ladies enough to tempt you here tonight?”
“Only one,” replied Darcy. “And she is more tempting than ten other ladies.”
“Indeed, she is. It is also fortunate she can talk her way around most men and will challenge you, for I am certain that is what you have been looking for in a woman all these years.”
“Are you suggesting she is a bluestocking?” asked Darcy, noting that Miss Elizabeth had come close enough to overhear their conversation.
“I doubt you would be interested in any other sort of woman!” replied Bingley, his laughter growing louder. “For what is a woman if she cannot debate politics, the situation on the continent, and the evils of the Luddites?”
“What sort of woman, indeed. Do you not wish for a woman of that ilk yourself?”
“Oh, no, for I must prefer a gently flowing river to one with raging rapids along its length. I shall stay with the sweetness of Miss Bennet and leave you to the archness of her sister.”
“Then I suggest you get back to her, my friend, for you would not wish her to become lonely.”
Bingley slapped his back and agreed. “What a pair we shall make, Darcy. I dare say we shall be brothers, though perhaps not by the means certain members of my family might have preferred!”
Then continuing to laugh to himself, Bingley departed. Lady Catherine, who had also been close enough to overhear, shot Darcy a look, but Darcy caught sight of Miss Elizabeth and had no attention to spare for his aunt. She stepped toward him, her gait light and her expression teasing.
“Well, Mr. Darcy, it seems like you have understood my character. It may be best for you to recall that it is better that I am a bluestocking than an imbecile.”
“If you were an imbecile, my dear Miss Elizabeth, I should not have looked at you twice.”
“Of course not! For who wishes to have an insensible wife? And what woman wishes for a dullard for a husband? If I had wished for that, I might have induced Mr. Collins to propose to me, for he fits the description!”
Soon the dancing began again, and Darcy was treated to the sight of Fitzwilliam dancing a second time with Miss Lucas. It could be said that he had the benefit of anonymity, considering the fact that there were many in attendance wearing scarlet. But Darcy had not missed his attention to her, nor had Lady Catherine remained insensible, though he was not certain of her thoughts on the matter. Fitzwilliam, in Lady Catherine’s opinion, had never been as important as Darcy himself for the simple reason that she wished Darcy to marry Anne. That did not mean she was sanguine about the possibility of another nephew marrying a woman of less than acceptable breeding.
When the dance ended, Darcy situated himself near to where Fitzwilliam led her, and when her next partner led her away, Darcy approached his cousin. Fitzwilliam knew what was coming, for he grinned when he caught sight of Darcy.
“Have you perhaps found the woman of whom we spoke the other night? Miss Lucas is sensible, but I suspect certain elements of the family will not appreciate your choice.”
“Do not be silly, Darcy,” came the voice of Lady Catherine. Darcy had not noticed her presence nearby. “And do not speak about me as if I am not present.”
Darcy regarded Lady Catherine with a look of all innocence. “If you recall, I mentioned no names.”
The withering look Lady Catherine shot him left him in no doubt of her feelings. Having had her say, however, she fixed her attention on Fitzwilliam.
“I hope you have not lost your head as Darcy has.”
“If you are referring to Miss Lucas, I would suggest the man who gains her hand would be a lucky one.” Lady Catherine’s mien darkened, and Fitzwilliam chuckled while holding out his hands in surrender. “There is nothing imminent with Miss Lucas, Lady Catherine. Be aware, however, that if I decide she will do for me, your arguments shall not sway me, and the objections of anyone else will mean nothing.”
Lady Catherine’s look was as sour as curdled milk. “It seems you and Darcy have spent much time together, for you are united in your desire to vex me and inflexible when I attempt to guide you.”
“I apologize if you feel that way, Lady Catherine,” said Fitzwilliam, sounding anything but apologetic. “However, I am almost thirty years of age and may keep my own counsel. Again, I shall remind you I have made no decisions. This conversation is premature at best.”
Nodding, and perhaps understanding that she would get no further with Fitzwilliam than s
he had with Darcy himself, Lady Catherine directed her attention back at Darcy. “As for you, my understanding was that you favored Miss Elizabeth. Do you mean to propose to her before the end of the year, or have you reconsidered?”
“No, I have not reconsidered, though I will note that I never said I would propose. Let us say that the situation will progress before long and leave the subject be.”
Fitzwilliam grinned while Lady Catherine nodded, unable to say anything more. What might have been said after that Darcy could not know, for his attention was suddenly arrested by an unwelcome sight across the dance floor.
“Anne!” said Lady Catherine seeing the same thing Darcy had seen.
The grin ran away from Fitzwilliam’s face as he glanced across the room and saw what his relations had already witnessed. Anne was standing on the other side of the dancers, speaking with Wickham. Given the smile Wickham was giving her, indulgent yet a little predatory, Darcy knew he was up to no good. Anne knew all about Wickham, other than the incident with Georgiana last summer. Did she know enough to avoid allowing him to charm her into something she should not do?
“How long have they been standing thus?” asked Fitzwilliam.
At that moment, Wickham broke away from her and exited the room, leaving Anne by herself, looking contemplative. Whatever the subject had been, Darcy sensed they would not approve of it.
“I do not know but it seems we must speak with her again.”
“Tomorrow,” said Lady Catherine with no hint of hesitation. “Darcy and I shall speak to her. I shall not have a daughter hoodwinked by the libertine son of a steward!”
“And I shall speak with Wickham tomorrow myself,” said Fitzwilliam. “For now, we should not leave Anne alone for the rest of the night.”
Lady Catherine took it upon herself to stay with Anne. While she said nothing of her mother’s attention, Darcy was certain from her knowing smile that Anne knew something of why she was so attentive. Of Wickham, they saw nothing else that evening. Darcy did not know if he left, or for what reason, if he did so. But he was determined that Wickham should fail with Anne where he failed with Georgiana. Perhaps it was time to persuade Fitzwilliam that they should ship him off to Botany Bay. He could not do any harm to them if he was on the other side of the world.
Chapter XXVI
Being united with Lady Catherine about anything was an unfamiliar sensation.
The thought crossed Darcy’s mind and he grimaced. It was not fair to Lady Catherine—this Darcy well understood. The lady was not deficient in understanding and she was not one who delighted in contrary behavior, radical ideals or opinions, or intentionally causing harm to others. Darcy had spent so much time avoiding her, keeping her at arms’ length to avoid her constant proclamations of his destiny with Anne, that it had jaded him. In fact, Darcy remembered possessing great esteem for her before the matter of Anne had come between them.
This morning, however, seemed the first time in many years in which they had been united with no division between them. Lady Catherine was concerned for her daughter to the point of fear. Darcy considered himself more rational. The potential for Wickham to use Anne in one of his schemes existed, but while Lady Catherine was considering taking away her daughter’s freedom to protect her, Darcy preferred to help her see the man was a libertine. This supposed she was under his thrall or in danger of being so. Darcy wished to give her the benefit of the doubt; it was difficult to do so, as Darcy had seen Wickham charm many women he had never thought were in danger. It sobered him.
Anne was showing a side of her character none of them had ever seen, and Darcy could only conclude she had hidden it because she had always felt dominated by her mother. When they confronted her that morning, she regarded them with a knowing smile, her manner more flippant than Fitzwilliam at his most infuriating. While Darcy did not think she was treating the matter as a lark, he was still worried.
“What did Wickham say to you last night, Anne?” asked Lady Catherine, as direct as ever she was.
“What does Mr. Wickham ever say?” was Anne’s rhetorical question in reply. “Serious thoughts are foreign to him, for he concentrates on compromising women and procuring fortune to the exclusion of all other considerations.”
“So, he attempted to charm you,” said Darcy.
“When does he not? I dare say Mr. Wickham spends most of his waking moments attempting to charm.”
“Anne, this is not a laughing matter,” reproved Darcy. “Have Fitzwilliam and I not warned you of Wickham’s character?”
“You have,” replied Anne. “Ad nauseam.”
“For good reason. Wickham is a derelict of the first order, his recent enforced moderation notwithstanding. His only thoughts are to gamble, carouse, and engage in his debaucheries without restraint. If you allowed him to charm you into running away with him, how long do you think Rosings would remain solvent under his management?”
“You are progressing quickly, are you not!” protested Anne. “Mr. Wickham has made no such references on the few occasions I have spoken with him.”
“Anne,” snapped Lady Catherine. “You cannot be this senseless. Of course, he would not speak of such things to you. That will come later when he feels he has you in his control.”
“Control which he shall never procure,” replied Anne. She paused for a moment considering them, and then added: “This has made me curious, for I do not see such warnings given to Miss Bingley, and she has been more the focus of Mr. Wickham’s attention than I.”
“Miss Bingley’s brother can concern himself for her welfare,” snapped Lady Catherine. “Our concern is for you.”
“Bingley has spoken to his sister,” said Darcy, trying for a more tactful reply than Lady Catherine had given, “for she is his responsibility. There are also differences between you. Miss Bingley is a woman long in society and intent upon marrying a man of wealth—this as much as anything protects her from Mr. Wickham.”
“She is also not a coddled young woman held out of society.”
The hint of bitterness in her tone surprised Darcy, though he reflected he should not be. While he thought of saying something in support, Lady Catherine, who heard nothing of Anne’s tone, was quick to respond.
“She is a woman full-grown, Anne, and may take care of herself.”
“As am I,” replied Anne, the hint of coldness in her voice such that even Lady Catherine could not misunderstand. “So you both know, I have not and will not allow Mr. Wickham to charm me, regardless of what he attempts. I have no desire to lose control of Rosings to a libertine. There, will that do?”
Spinning, Anne turned and stalked from the room, leaving Lady Catherine staring open-mouthed at her retreating back. The way her gaze became flinty, Darcy knew his aunt meant to follow her and make the matter worse, so he intervened to prevent it.
“It would be best if you allowed the matter to rest, Lady Catherine.”
The lady turned her sharp glare on Darcy, belligerence in her very stance. “She has not given us the assurances we require. Do you believe those flippant words she spoke?”
“We will get nothing more from her,” replied Darcy. Determined to keep her here, Darcy fixed her with a look he knew had always given her pause, one he reserved to persuade her to his way of thinking for some important estate matter. “Do you not see how Anne became offended when we spoke of the comparisons between Miss Bingley and herself? If you approach her now, it will only make the situation worse.”
“I cannot understand her!” growled Lady Catherine, frustration coloring her voice. “Can she not see we have her best interests at heart?”
“Yes, we do, and I am certain Anne sees it too.”
Darcy paused, uncertain whether he should speak further. Then the memory of Anne’s offense, of the truth of her words, no matter how much anger had provoked them, filled him. Lady Catherine was incapable of seeing anything other than what she believed, but Darcy knew he needed to make the attempt for Anne’s sake.
&n
bsp; “Do you not concern yourself with Anne’s words about being coddled?”
“Of what do you speak?” demanded Lady Catherine. “What does Miss Bingley have to do with this?”
The temptation to roll his eyes was strong, but Darcy refrained. “Anne was not only speaking of Miss Bingley, Lady Catherine. Can you not see that she was also speaking of herself?”
“Herself? What nonsense is this?”
“The nonsense to which you refer is that we have all coddled Anne all her life! Can you not see this, Lady Catherine? Do you not understand that she is a woman full-grown, yet she has not had a season, has little experience in society, has had no opportunities to live the life expected of one of her station?”
“Are you attempting to blame me for this?” Lady Catherine’s voice was growing shrill, rising to grate on his senses like the screeching of a crow. “Do you not know how ill she has been all her life? Had you done as I asked, she would have no need of such things!”
“I do not blame you,” replied Darcy, holding his temper in with the force of will alone. “Anne has been ill—this I understand. However, as I told you once before, if you allow Anne the opportunity to live, she may surprise you with what she can accomplish.”
Such a statement, so close to condemnation, might have provoked Lady Catherine to rage not long before. With all the changes that had occurred of late, however, it was clear she was only taken aback.
“I do not intend to berate or accuse, Lady Catherine,” said Darcy in a calmer tone, eager to attempt reconciliation. “You did what you thought was best to protect your child, and I commend you for it.
“Having said that, you must see that Anne has a legitimate complaint. Is it not best that we allow her the chance to live her life in a manner she sees fit?”
