by Jann Rowland
“If you saw Thorndell, your opinion might be different,” said Alexander, his most blatant attempt to distract her yet. “Thorndell is my estate, you understand, and though Pemberley is larger, in sheer terms of beauty I do not think Thorndell can be exceeded. Perhaps one day you may see it, Miss Bingley, for I should like to show it to you.”
Miss Bingley’s mouth fell open at Alexander’s obvious insinuation, but it was not long before she turned away, a brittle smile fixed on Georgiana. “It seems I have stayed past the time of our visit, Georgiana. You have my apologies and my regrets, but I believe I should now depart.”
Then rising, and giving a brief curtsey, she fled the room, the sound of Alexander’s voice following her out into the hall.
“But Miss Bingley, I wish to tell you more about Thorndell!”
The sound of the woman’s footsteps quickened, and she was soon beyond the range of their hearing. Alexander turned an amused grin at Georgiana, who was fighting to maintain a frown of asperity.
“There, Georgiana, I have rid you of your unwanted visitor. Shall you not thank me for my magnanimous assistance?”
Georgiana could not help the laughter which burst forth, though she attempted to cover it up with a scowl. “That was poorly one, Alexander. Why, when William marries, the woman might remember your actions and decide you are the Darcy brother she wishes to capture.”
A snort was her brother’s response. “I believe you will find I can fend off Miss Bingley. There is no more chance of her marrying me than she has of capturing William.”
“Then why did you run her off?” demanded Georgiana.
“Were you enjoying her company?” asked Alexander with a raised eyebrow.
“No, but that is beside the point.”
“I that case, dear Sister,” said Alexander, sending her a wink, “the next time she comes, I shall leave you to it. My purpose was nothing more than to spare you her company for the rest of the day, for she seemed quite settled here. If my interference was officious, I apologize.”
With a final grin, Alexander turned and let himself out of the room, Georgiana watching him with equal parts asperity and mirth. She supposed she should be grateful for his interference, and the thought of Miss Bingley’s haste to leave did provoke her to laughter again. Alexander was audacious—he had best take care, for who knew what response he might provoke?
Darcy was uncertain what he was doing, but all his arguments were ineffective, vain thoughts rumbling in the back of his mind, neither heeded nor wanted. While his actions seemed foolhardy, he had not yet learned to condemn them, and if this torment, so sweet and aching, was wrong, then perhaps all his previous conceptions were also incorrect. All he knew was that he left that morning to go to Lambton, saw Miss Elizabeth in the town, and in an instant of decision, arranged so he would meet her as they were leaving, yet far enough away that their discourse would not be noticed.
“Miss Elizabeth,” said he, inclining his head as he sat on his steed. “I see you have come to Lambton again today.”
“I have, Mr. Darcy,” said she. “In fact, I often come here.”
For a time, their paths to return to their homes would be the same, he motioned on, somewhat surprised when she assented. As they turned their horses as one onto the road, Miss Elizabeth looked back at him.
“My uncle is the parson at Lambton church, as you must know—I often visit him or stop to speak with Mrs. Gardiner. Lambton is also a place to find some amusement, though it is not as exciting as if a regiment of officers were quartered there.”
“You appreciate a man in a red coat?”
Miss Elizabeth laughed. “It seems to me any young maiden would feel the call of such adventurous fellows, but I am no more enamored of a man in scarlet than the next woman. If they had interesting tales to tell of exotic locations and other cultures, I would be intrigued.”
“Then you will not find that among a company of militia, Miss Elizabeth. My cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, has many tales to tell, and as he is in the regulars, some of them may even be true.”
The woman’s laughter was a tinkling bell, its chimes finding an echo in the beating of Darcy’s heart. “I suppose you are attempting to inform me that militia officers, by contrast, lead rather dull lives.”
“So my cousin would inform you if he was here.”
“When I spoke to Lady Charlotte Lucas, she informed me he was expected before long?”
“Within a few days,” replied Darcy.
“It must be a great relief to know he is leaving active service for the life of a gentleman.”
“We all are thankful. My aunt, in particular, cannot be more grateful her younger son has sold his commission, and even happier that he shall marry the daughter of an earl.” Darcy paused, wondering if what he meant to say next would make him sound proud. Then again, she was the daughter of a baron—she must have heard much worse. “The Chesterfield earldom is peculiar in that the title may be passed down through the female line. Though Fitzwilliam will never be an earl himself and must take the earl’s family name as his own, he will be the father of the next Earl of Chesterfield.”
“Yes, I had heard something of that nature,” replied Miss Elizabeth, her manner indicating she had seen nothing into his comment he had not intended. “As it is a love match—or so I have heard—it is very fortunate for Colonel Fitzwilliam, as it also provides for his future.”
“It does,” agreed Darcy.
For several moments they rode on in silence, Darcy wishing to say more to this woman, but feeling bereft of his senses, unable to think of anything interesting to say to her. Miss Elizabeth, it seemed to him, did not suffer from an inability to converse—everything he knew of her suggested that was out of the question. The silence was comfortable, however, which was a good sign, if one cared to interpret it in such a way. While he did not know why Darcy wished it to be so.
“I am curious,” said Darcy at length. When Miss Elizabeth regarded him askance, he continued: “When we all met in the bookshop there was a tall gentleman with you. Though I assume he is a relation, I do not believe I have seen him before.”
“Mr. Collins,” said Miss Elizabeth, her face graced with a slight smile. “He is my father’s cousin, though none of us can quite remember to what degree. When he was a boy, my father was close to Mr. Collins’s father and has remained so with his son. The elder Mr. Collins was a parson and his son followed in his stead. But a year ago he inherited an estate in Nottinghamshire. Since that inheritance, he has been there, learning the craft of being a gentleman. This is the first time he has been with us in some years.”
“That explains it then,” said Darcy. “It is my perception your family does not have many Bennet relations.”
“That is true,” replied Miss Elizabeth. “Mr. Collins is the only one with whom we are at all close—most of our relations are from my mother’s family. Of possible interest to you is Mr. Collins claims a connection close to your family.”
“Indeed?” asked Darcy, uncertain what to make of this revelation. “How so, Miss Elizabeth?”
“After Mr. Collins attained his ordination, he came to the notice of one Lady Catherine de Bourgh, who I believe is your aunt. Lady Catherine installed him as the rector of Hunsford, where I believe he stayed for less than a year before he inherited his estate.”
Darcy could not help the slight grimace of distaste, and it seemed Miss Elizabeth had seen it. Though he could have seen her becoming angered by it, she seemed to interpret it correctly, for she grinned at him and waited for his explanation.
“Being chosen as Lady Catherine’s parson is not a ringing endorsement of his character, Miss Elizabeth,” said Darcy, hoping to explain with swiftness. “My aunt surrounds herself with sycophants and toadies, people who would never dare contradict her. It is not my purpose to insult Mr. Collins, but if you had known her last parson, you would understand.”
By this time Miss Elizabeth was laughing, a matter of some relief to Darcy. “In
this, I cannot but believe your assertions, Mr. Darcy, for Mr. Collins’s accounts of his time as the parson of Hunsford match your account in every particular. It seems it pleased Lady Catherine to be rid of my cousin, for he did not display the ‘proper level of respect’ in her words.”
They laughed together, Darcy’s mirth full of appreciation that he had not offended her. Then Darcy added: “You must inform your cousin that Lady Catherine is to visit us and is to arrive within a few days of Fitzwilliam’s coming.”
“Then I shall be sure to inform him!” exclaimed Miss Elizabeth, still laughing. “Though I do not know if the lady will appreciate the opportunity to become reacquainted with her former parson, Mr. Collins speaks in warm terms of Lady Catherine.”
Darcy nodded. By this time, they had arrived at the turnoff which led to Pemberley, and Darcy, though he would have preferred to continue riding with her, knew it was best if he returned to his home. It was a wonder they had come upon no one as they had ridden down the road, for it was not an untraveled path. Fate, it seemed, had been tempted enough that day.
“Thank you, Miss Elizabeth, for this interesting conversation. Since you have traveled this road many times, I shall assume I am not required to escort you to the road to Longbourn.”
“Should I still think of you as ungentlemanly,” said she, her laughter contradicting her words, “I could use this as a reason to think ill of you, for is it not polite to offer an escort to a helpless female!”
“Perhaps it is,” said Darcy with a grin. “But I neither consider you helpless nor do I think any good could come from being discovered together.”
“You are correct, of course,” said Miss Elizabeth, her manner become more serious again. “My father has asked there be no contact between any of us and any of your family. In light of that fact, I shall wish you a good day, Mr. Darcy.”
“Good day, Miss Elizabeth,” said Darcy, nodding as she heeled her horse away.
In a day full of foolhardy actions, sitting on his horse, watching her until she disappeared in the distance may have been the most imprudent. Several emotions had ignited within Darcy’s breast, stoking the admiration he already felt for her into a burning flame. Not only was the woman intelligent, her personality magnetic, but life shining in her eyes, the joy of life she illuminated for all to see like the sweetest ambrosia. Darcy could imagine becoming drunk with nothing more than her presence. He could imagine it very well.
The first meeting with Mr. Darcy was exactly that—the first. Elizabeth could not quite understand how it had come about, but something compelled her out of doors many times in the subsequent days, and on most of those she met with Mr. Darcy. It may have been the man had an uncanny sense of where she could be found, or maybe he had bribed one of Longbourn’s servants to report her movements to him. Regardless, whether she walked to the boundary between estates, rode to Lambton, visited her favorite meadow, or meandered some long-forgotten trails about the neighborhood, Mr. Darcy was there, eager to meet and speak with her.
Elizabeth supposed she should feel guilty for disobeying her father’s instructions. Obedience had never been one of Elizabeth’s strengths, but she had always respected her father’s authority. But she could not find it in herself to flee Mr. Darcy when perhaps she should. There was something about the gentleman that called to her, pleaded her to accept his overtures. She did not set out, intending to find the gentleman. Elizabeth did not think he was consciously searching for her either.
Over the course of those few meetings, however, Elizabeth came to realize that all her family’s prejudice against the Darcy family was incorrect, at least regarding Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy. It was nothing more than silliness, for Elizabeth came to know the man, their discussions illuminating his character to her, teaching her that this was a good man, one who was serious in the performance of his duties, but tender and true in the application of his affections. Soon, Elizabeth began to feel as if his affections might include her.
“Can you tell me about your family?” asked he one significant day when they had been speaking together for some time. Then he looked away in embarrassment and added: “The distance between our families is such that I have little knowledge of them, other than what I have observed. I would like . . . It would please me to learn more.”
Flattered by his interest which she knew was no disguise, Elizabeth began to speak of the members of her family, from the baron with his quixotic sense of humor and learned ways, to her mother’s focus on her family and upholding their position in society. When she reached her sisters, Elizabeth’s smile grew warm as she considered Jane and the relationship they had always shared.
“Jane is an angel,” said Elizabeth. “There is no other way to describe her.”
Mr. Darcy laughed. “That is what Bingley says about your sister, Miss Elizabeth, so I find it amusing. Then again, I have often heard Bingley refer to any woman he admires as an angel.”
“In Jane’s case, he is correct. I have never met another with such intrinsic goodness as Jane.” Elizabeth smiled and added: “If it were any other man, I might, perhaps, concern myself for Mr. Bingley’s wandering heart, for I have also heard tales of his exploits. But having witnessed him with Jane, I believe his heart has found a place where it may rest for the remainder of his life, for he is entirely devoted to her.”
“I did not mean to suggest he was fickle,” replied Darcy. “It was clear within moments of learning of his intentions he had found the woman he meant to make his. I hope you did not think I was belittling their connection.”
It had often been this way between them. Little comments with no ill intent were explained to ensure there was no confusion, for neither wished to offend the other. It was unsurprising that they would wish to avoid misinterpretation. On the other hand, Elizabeth could not decipher why it was so important they understand each other perfectly.
“No, Mr. Darcy—nothing was further from my mind. I am content knowing that Jane shall find her happiness and that Mary, also, is close to obtaining hers. Mr. Collins, my father’s cousin, is expected to offer for Mary; I believe she means to accept him. Mary is like I am in her studious nature, but much more so. She is also more serious, which, I believe, will suit Mr. Collins very well.
“As for my two youngest sisters, Kitty and Lydia are more adventurous than the rest of us, but though they can become somewhat boisterous, they are, at heart, good girls. Kitty, though she is the elder, is the follower, while Lydia is the leader. Kitty enjoys music and plays the pianoforte very well, while Lydia is more inclined to the arts. Should you see some of her paintings, you would declare her talented.”
Mr. Darcy paused for a moment, seeming to consider his words with care. “Your young sisters are bold.”
“That is an understatement,” replied Elizabeth with a laugh. “Both are often more fearless than I believe wise, particularly on Lydia’s part. She pushes the boundaries of good behavior, but she is not improper. Both my sisters are still immature and require a little more growth, but I am certain they will obtain it as they grow.”
“And what of Miss Elizabeth Bennet?” asked Darcy.
Elizabeth favored him with a smile which he returned without hesitation. “There is much of me I believe you already know, Mr. Darcy. I love music, but I don’t practice as much as I should; I love books and reading; I am fond of nature, and love nothing better than a walk out of doors or a ride on my beloved mare; and I am fond of society.
“Now, that is enough of my family—can you tell me of yours?”
With a nod, Mr. Darcy began to explain something of his own family. His mother, Elizabeth knew, had passed away some years ago, and had left a great wound in his family which persisted to this day. Mr. Darcy the elder had been devoted to his wife and had taken her death hard, and though his sons had urged him to look for another companion, he had declared his intention to stay true to his lost love. The very notion appealed to the romantic in Elizabeth, filling her heart with admiration for this abse
nt gentleman. Mr. Darcy informed her of his mother’s family, and spoke of them with the warmest regards, asserting they were the humblest titled family he had ever know.
“As for my sister and brother,” said Mr. Darcy, “Georgiana, as I am certain you have noticed, is shy, though she is sweet when you come to know her. The pianoforte is the most important thing in her life, though she is accomplished at other activities as well.”
“Yes, Mr. Darcy—I can see that very well.”
Mr. Darcy grinned. “Your reaction to meeting her was telling, Miss Elizabeth. Should the situation between our families change, it would benefit her to come to know you better. As for my brother, at times we have not got on at all. Alexander is everything I am not, for he is easy in society and possesses a way with the ladies that I have never had.”
“You make him sound like quite the rake!”
Shaking his head, Mr. Darcy denied it, saying: “While I have always thought Alexander was less disciplined than he should be, he has never been a rake. Many of the tales told of him are exaggerated. Sometimes he has gambled and I would prefer a more proper attitude with the ladies, but he has always been scrupulously honest, even if he is not eager to accept responsibility for his actions. And if he loses somewhat at the gaming tables, he has never allowed himself to gamble away a fortune. Alexander has changed since he has come back to Pemberley, has acquired a hint of maturity I despaired of him ever gaining.”
Elizabeth nodded, not responding. Though she had never thought the worst of the youngest Mr. Darcy—she did not know him, after all—his meeting with Lydia had made her wonder. It was, perhaps, a surprise, but Elizabeth found herself trusting Mr. Darcy’s account of his brother.
“What of your uncle?” asked Mr. Darcy, returning Elizabeth’s attention. “You have not mentioned him.”
“I have two close uncles, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth. “The younger, Mr. Edward Gardiner is the parson of Lambton. It has come to my attention you speak to his wife on occasion.”
