by Jann Rowland
“And yet you saw fit to castigate me for the same behavior as that in which you engaged,” spat Alexander.
“If you recall,” said Darcy, “the only comments I made were concerning the visible nature of your actions. I took great care to avoid sullying Miss Elizabeth’s reputation, but I could not turn away from her when she held my heart.”
“A fine distinction,” said Alexander, turning away and shaking his head. “There is a word that describes your behavior of late, Brother, and that word is hypocrite.”
“Perhaps you may see it that way, and I cannot gainsay you,” said Darcy. “But I will have Miss Elizabeth for a wife, Alexander—I am determined. If we had not thought our fathers would force us apart, we would have formalized a courtship long ago.”
Alexander turned back to Darcy, coldness clear in his blank stare. “And you thought I was any different?”
“Your treatment of women has always been more than a little careless, Alexander,” said Darcy, fixing his brother with a sharp glare. “Do you love Miss Lydia? Have you met with her enough to form an attachment? Prove me wrong, Brother, for it seems to me our situations are not equal at all. Should another discover me with Elizabeth and the demands of propriety force us to wed, I would go to the altar happily, eagerly. Can you say the same about Miss Lydia?”
For a moment, Darcy thought his brother might answer him, for he gazed at Darcy, his eyes searching. Then the moment passed, and a hardness came over Alexander’s countenance again.
“It seems you have already convicted me of indifference for her.”
“As I said, Alexander, I am more than willing to be proven wrong. Can you not speak something of what has motivated your behavior of late? I will remind you, Brother, that while you provoked a scene at the earl’s ball by brazenly dancing with a young girl, not even a woman, when you knew there were several people in the room who would object. I refrained from making that same scene, though I would have danced with no one other than Miss Elizabeth the entire night. Has anything other than selfishness and insouciance motivated your actions?”
When Alexander refused to respond, Darcy shook his head and said: “As you no doubt read in the letter, Miss Elizabeth has decided it is time to inform her father and was writing for my opinion on the matter. My response expressed my wholehearted agreement. That is why I must return home, as I have the same communication to make to our father.”
“And do you think he will support you?”
It was an incongruous question; Darcy did not know why his brother cared. “In truth,” said Darcy, “I cannot predict Father’s response. The events of recent weeks have hardened our positions against the Bennets, but in some ways, I sense Father has also softened toward them. But I will not relent.”
“Then it is best you depart,” said Alexander. “Do not let me keep you, for I have matters well in hand here.”
Taken aback, Darcy said: “Shall we not discuss those final few matters?”
“You misunderstand me, Brother,” said Alexander, his gaze falling on Darcy like an icy gale. “Please leave at once, for I have no further need of your hypocritical and sanctimonious drivel, nor do I wish you to lecture me about the estate or any other matter. I would be much more at ease if you would just leave.”
“If that is what you wish, I shall depart,” said Darcy. Before he left, he could not but make one more comment. “Know this, Alexander: if you have some interest in Miss Lydia, I suggest you treat her as the lady she is. The girl is yet too young to marry. If I can somehow effect a reconciliation between families, your pathway will clear, but only if you begin to be the man our father raised you to be.”
Bowing, Darcy turned and exited the room. Within a few short minutes, he had changed to his riding clothes and instructed Snell, his man, to pack his few remaining items and set out in the carriage for Pemberley. Darcy meant to go on ahead on horseback. It was later in the day than he would wish to depart, but if he set a good pace, he should arrive at Pemberley that evening.
Upon Elizabeth’s return to Longbourn to her family’s welcome, she lost no time in asking her father for a moment of his time. Though Elizabeth could feel her mother’s eyes on her, she ignored Lady Margaret in favor of her father. Lord Arundel gave his consent and led Elizabeth to the study, seeing her comfortably seated in one of his armchairs before he sat in the other. As was his wont, he injected a little humor into the situation.
“I will own to a little trepidation, Lizzy, for I know of no young woman who wishes to speak with her father. Will the content of this interview force me to call out some blackguard who has misused you?”
The notion of her father demanding satisfaction both filled Elizabeth with dread and calmed her, for she knew her father, though he was eager to joke, would never call out a man much younger than he. It was this humor, she thought, that allowed her to proceed with little hesitation or quaver in her voice.
“I should not think so, Papa. But there are matters of which you are unaware, and I must inform you of them at once.”
“Then please, let me know what they are. I find you have piqued my curiosity.”
Whatever her father might have thought, being informed of his daughter’s recent activities with a Darcy was not what he had expected. Though nervous, Elizabeth forced herself to continue, to explain the entirety of her history with Mr. Darcy, acknowledging that she had disobeyed his instructions, but emphasizing the state of her feelings for the gentleman. When she had completed her recitation, his response was surprising.
“You have been meeting with Mr. Darcy? Then what of his defiance and insistence on meeting Lydia?”
At once Elizabeth realized her mistake, and she could not help the bubble of hysterical laughter which welled up from her breast.
“Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, Papa. Not Mr. Alexander Darcy. I know not what Lydia has been doing with the younger brother; I was speaking of the elder.”
Lord Arundel regarded her for a moment in disbelief and shook his head. “It seems all my daughters are determined to defy me.”
“You are not angry?” asked Elizabeth, confused over his response.
“Perhaps I should be,” said her father, a wry note in his answer. “You are the second daughter who has flouted my express instructions. So much has happened in recent days that I do not know whether I should laugh or rail in fury.”
For a moment her father watched her as if he did not know her, then he asked: “May I know why you have been meeting with him?”
“Because I love him, Papa,” said Elizabeth without hesitation. “I would have thought that would have been clear from my account.”
If her father thought she would say more, she disappointed him, for Elizabeth thought her answer was sufficient to state her case. Thus, when she said nothing more, Lord Arundel laughed, a rueful response.
“Perhaps you do, my dear. If it were Lydia or Kitty I might press you to ensure you know what you are about, but as you are the most sensible of my daughters, I shall not treat you as if you do not know your own mind. I also do not know how this came about, but I shall not ask, as I doubt I will like the answer.
“However, I have one question.” The way her father peered at her Elizabeth could see his usual sardonic amusement was absent in favor of seriousness. “Might I assume that you have attained your meeting of minds with this Mr. Darcy of your own volition? And before you answer,” said he, cutting Elizabeth’s words off before she could speak them, “know that I do not accuse your young man. I wish to know that your feelings are true.”
“They are, Papa,” said Elizabeth. “Though acrimony characterized our initial meetings, rancor quickly gave way to a meeting of minds and hearts.” Elizabeth paused, remembering the stolen hours she had spent in Mr. Darcy’s company and she flushed a little when the recollection of being held in his arms swept over her. “Mr. Darcy,” continued she after a moment, not seeing companion, “is the best man I have ever known.”
“Thank you for speaking clearly, Li
zzy,” said her father after a moment—Elizabeth had no notion of how long she had considered Mr. Darcy’s perfections. “I need not tell you, I hope, of the many obstacles set in your path.”
“No, you do not,” replied Elizabeth, uncertain if her father could hear her for the softness of her voice.
“Then let us have no more of this.” Lord Arundel paused and laughed. “I suppose I should take you to task as I have Lydia, but as I sense your interest in Mr. Darcy is of a more mature variety than Lydia’s, I shall content myself with a warning: these clandestine meetings must cease.”
Elizabeth gazed at her father, a protest poised on her lips, though she did not think it would do her any good. His raised hand silenced her.
“Yes, Elizabeth, I understand your frustration. But you must recall that not only have you disobeyed me repeatedly, tensions are high between our families at present. If there is to be any entente between us, we must take care to bridge the distance in a measured and rational manner.”
“Then you are not dismissing the notion out of hand?” clarified Elizabeth.
Lord Arundel sighed. “If I did, I suppose you would steal off in the night with him, would you not?”
Elizabeth looked away, which her father took for confirmation, though Elizabeth had not considered it and did not know what she would do until confronted with the choice.
“My heart is not hardened against your plight, Daughter,” continued her father. “At present, however, I must insist upon patience.
“Now, must I confine you to the house with your sister, or will you obey me in this?”
“You will assign a footman to me if I do not,” said Elizabeth with a sigh.
“As I recall,” replied her father with some amusement, “I tasked John with your protection when you were younger. He is capable of resuming that duty, should you prove difficult.”
“There is no need for that, Papa.”
“Good girl,” replied her father. “Then I will allow you to go about your day, while I consider this matter further.”
Elizabeth whispered her assent and kissed her father’s cheek as she left. The last sight she had of him was a man deep in thought, but not angry as she might have expected. Perhaps there was some hope for them—had Elizabeth not thought there was any hope, she would not have come forward under any circumstances. She was honest enough with herself to know that much
Upon returning to the rest of her family, it was unsurprising they subjected her to account for her failure to return the previous evening. Elizabeth did her best to answer those pertaining to Uncle Edward and Aunt Madeline, but she was steadfast in refusing to say anything of her conversation with her father. Though it would become known in time, and Elizabeth was certain he would inform her mother at the first opportunity, it would be his decision whether to reveal it to the rest of them. The matter was the last thing she wished to discuss with her family at present.
“You now tell me you were cavorting with that Bennet girl for months and yet you criticized your brother for the selfsame behavior?”
Mr. Darcy’s eyes burned with a cold fury, but it was not his anger which provoked Darcy’s own; it was the way he had branded Darcy’s association with Elizabeth as if she was some woman of the night. Given Darcy knew he had disregarded his father’s instructions, he knew he deserved whatever anger his father saw fit to direct at him. But nothing would induce him to allow anyone to say anything against Elizabeth.
“Yes, Father,” said Darcy, his own voice and countenance stony, “I will own that I have met with Elizabeth in defiance of your instructions. But if you must be angry, direct your rage at me and not at her.”
A snort of contempt was his father’s reply, accompanied by a sharply snapped: “It seems these Bennet girls have slipped their father’s leash. Or perhaps Catherine is correct about their lack of training for the strictures of polite society.”
“Though we have met together,” said Darcy, clenching his teeth to refrain from snapping at his father, “nothing untoward happened between us. The Honorable Miss Elizabeth Bennet is just that—an honorable and good woman, who deserves none of your censure.
“In addition,” added Darcy, “while I know nothing of Alexander’s connection to Miss Lydia, I will remind you that Elizabeth is a woman who will be of age in only three more months. Her sister is naught but a girl of sixteen. I cannot speak for her or for Alexander, but I will inform you here and now that I love Elizabeth—I have proposed to her and she has accepted. Whether you or her father accept it, we are now engaged. I will have her for a wife.”
In cold silence, Darcy’s father peered at him, his gaze searching as if he was attempting to determine the extent of his resolve. Darcy had never been more certain of anything in his life, a fact he attempted to inject into his demeanor. He must have found success, for his father scowled.
“Perhaps I should take Catherine up on her desire to wed her daughter to you. That would resolve matters to everyone’s satisfaction.”
“Not in my opinion, and not in Anne’s,” replied Darcy. “I am of age, Father. You cannot force me to marry where I do not wish.”
“I can prevent you from inheriting Pemberley,” spat his father.
Darcy laughed, a cold, harsh expression of disdain. “To whom will you leave it? Alexander? If you have forgotten, I shall remind you he has engaged in his own intrigues with another Bennet sister, and for much less reason than I have.”
“Georgiana may inherit. Do you wish me to pass you over for your sister and leave you with nothing?”
“It seems you have neglected to recall that Blackfish Bay is mine, and not part of the Darcy family holdings. You may withhold Thorndell from Alexander if you desire, but you have no control over Blackfish Bay. Should you disinherit me, it will only firm my resolve to wed Elizabeth—we may then retire to Lincolnshire and put this idiocy of our families behind us.”
Mr. Darcy sighed and shook his head. “I might have expected this defiance from Alexander, but never from you.”
“If you consider it defiance, I apologize. In actuality, it is nothing more than my determination to follow my heart.”
A slow nod was his father’s response. “No, I had not forgotten your other inheritance, nor did I neglect to consider the possibility you might defy me and do as you like. Your circumstances would be much reduced, but Blackfish would support you and your wife.”
“In some ways, it might be a relief,” said Darcy. “As you know, I am not fond of society.”
Mr. Darcy barked a laugh. “Yes, in that you are much the same as I. Since it seems I cannot deny you your lady, I shall not make the attempt. However, I must ask you to do nothing rash for the present.” Darcy could not misunderstand the stern glare with which his father regarded him. “As I informed your brother, the situation between our families is delicate at present. Do nothing to upset matters any further.”
“Very well, Father,” said Darcy. “If you would avoid speaking of the matter with Aunt Catherine, I—and I suspect Anne—would very much appreciate it.”
“I have little more desire to hear Catherine’s harangues than you do,” grunted Mr. Darcy. His father peered at him for a moment before saying: “Were you aware that Anne has also been meeting with a Bennet? Or a Bennet relation, to be exact, for she has become entangled with Mr. Gardiner.”
This was a piece of news Darcy had not yet heard. “Entangled?” asked Darcy, seeking clarification.
“It is, perhaps, not the best word to use,” said his father with a snort, “but there are so many of these of late that it has become difficult to remember we have been at odds for generations. Fitzwilliam saw them together several times, and the last time we spoke with her concerning it. Though she would not declare her intentions, she suggested it may be up to her and Mr. Gardiner to resolve the impasse between our families, as we could not do so ourselves.”
Darcy chuckled. “Anne has shown she has more determination than her mother thought or hoped. Might I assume
Lady Catherine knows nothing of it as yet?”
“You are correct,” said his father. “Anne informed us she would tell Lady Catherine herself, but at a time of her own choosing.”
“Then I wish Anne luck. That discussion will be more difficult than ours has been.”
Mr. Darcy nodded, though he paused before speaking. “I suppose you mean to continue to meet with your young woman?”
“There is little desire in me to be separated for months,” said Darcy. “We shall be circumspect, but I shall also endeavor to avoid meeting with her in secret.”
A grunt was Mr. Darcy’s response. “Secrecy will protect you from Catherine’s wrath; circumspection will do nothing more than delay the inevitable. Your aunt will discover this matter soon. Heaven help us all when she does. With that and Anne’s bit of defiance, there may not remain two stones of Pemberley’s walls standing when she learns of it.”
“I shall handle Lady Catherine,” said Darcy. “Leave that matter to me.”
“Very well. Please leave me be.”
Darcy’s unscheduled reappearance surprised the rest of the family, and he suspected Lady Catherine considered it a compliment to her daughter. Darcy did not care to disabuse the lady, and as Anne looked at him with amusement, he decided she was not injured by her mother’s speculation.
It was Fitzwilliam whom Darcy wished to see. When confronted, he had confessed to seeing Darcy with Elizabeth soon after his arrival, not to mention his hope that bringing them together at the ball would be beneficial for their future. This last assertion had caused Darcy’s dark amusement.
“You were incorrect about that, were you not?”
“If you see it that way,” said Fitzwilliam with a shrug. “I will suggest that had it been you and Miss Elizabeth dancing, the outcome might have been very different.”
“In essentials, I must disagree with you,” said Darcy, “though it is possible the reaction might have been muted.”
“You have informed your father?”
