The Inseparable Mr. and Mrs. Darcy

by Jennifer Joy

  The roly-poly judge was present and joined Darcy at the entryway of the Old Hall.

  “The gentleman you inquired about yesterday is here. I will present you.” Pausing mid-step, the old judge asked under his breath, “Were you able to affect our little plan?”

  “I did,” Darcy answered.

  “She suspects nothing?”

  “No. And I do not think she will until our purpose has been accomplished.”

  The judge nodded. “For her sake, I hope she learns her lesson. I was there that night, you know.”

  Darcy looked at him questioningly.

  “The night she jilted Harvisham,” explained the judge. “She broke his heart, but it was for the best. I daresay she has suffered more for it over the years than he has.”

  “Let us all hope this will prevent her from inflicting unneeded suffering on my cousin and Mr. Hammond.”

  The judge chuckled. “Oh, it should. At least temporarily.” Looking around them and lowering his voice, he added, “I mean to cross her path on the morrow when she rides her carriage in Hyde Park at the fashionable hour. I will give her such a look as to suggest I know what is underfoot.”

  Darcy almost pitied Aunt Catherine. Almost. She had brought this — and so much more — upon herself.

  They crossed the room where a young man with light brown hair poured over a pile of papers, a quill in his hand scratching illegible notes on another sheet of paper to his side.

  After a couple of attempts, the judge finally caught the gentleman’s attention. Rising to his feet, Mr. Nelson nearly met Darcy’s height. His shoulders were wide and his limbs sinewy. Not surprising to Darcy, given the man’s active manner of spending his day.

  A strong jaw and set chin suggested a determined nature, while his widened grayish-green eyes and smile openly displayed kindness. It was not the look of a man accustomed to keeping secrets.

  The judge found a reason to excuse himself discreetly after making introductions, to which Darcy was grateful. He would not speak of his sister in the public hall, lest he inadvertently cast doubt on Georgiana’s reputation. Not having the bored, elderly man there to poke his nose into Darcy’s business with Mr. Nelson would make the conversation easier.

  “Please join me if you would, Mr. Darcy,” Mr. Nelson extended his hand to the seat beside his. “I only have one more annotation to make before I forget it, and I can give you my full attention.”

  He finished making his note before Darcy had pulled his chair forward.

  Closing the lid to the inkwell and resting the quill against it, Mr. Nelson tidied the papers before him. “Please, tell me how I may be of assistance to you, sir. It is not often a gentleman of the higher circles seeks my company.”

  Appreciating his directness, Darcy answered in kind. “I am here on behalf of a young lady. Her family is concerned about her future and does not like the secrecy with which she and the gentleman with whom she has been … corresponding … have acted.” Corresponding, courting, scheming…. Darcy watched Mr. Nelson intently for his reaction.

  Mr. Nelson swallowed hard and colored slightly. “I see. I apologize if my actions have displeased the family of the young lady in any way and will seek to be of assistance however you feel best. I despise secrets, but they are common in my profession.”

  He tugged his cravat away from his neck, but he never looked away from Darcy. While his embarrassment at having his behavior laid bare was evident, his sincerity in making amends was equally obvious.

  A group of students, more interested in socializing than learning, sat on the other end of their table. Mr. Nelson collected his papers, placing them inside a leather portfolio.

  “We cannot discuss the matter here. You are welcome to call at Darcy House this evening, but I must leave for Hertfordshire at first light on the morrow. The young lady in question awaits.”

  Mr. Nelson scooted forward in his chair, his manners agitated. “She is as near as Hertfordshire?”

  “I find it odd you appear not to have known as much,” said Darcy. Had Mr. Nelson not addressed his last letter to Georgiana in Meryton?

  His face coloring again, Mr. Nelson said, “Perhaps the young lady’s family wishes to consider another, more capable man to see to her. I am both honored and humbled you felt compelled to approach me, but I am left to conclude that my efforts are insufficient, and a lady in her situation deserves nothing but the best after suffering so greatly at the hand of another.”

  Darcy hid his surprise. Georgiana had spoken of Wickham to the man before him? She must trust him a great deal to expose her greatest shame at the risk of losing his affection. And yet, he had not cast her aside. If his loyalty to Georgiana was already so strong as to overlook her error and love her still, Darcy would not be the one responsible for breaking her heart yet again when she did not feel she could confide in her older brother. Had he been away too long? Had Mr. Nelson stepped in where he had lacked?

  “That remains to be seen, Mr. Nelson,” he said cautiously, studying the gentleman. “Would you be willing to travel to Meryton?” Darcy asked, moved by an instinct which told him it was the right course.

  “I will do anything to further the interests of the young lady. Name the day and I will be there,” Mr. Nelson replied without a second of doubt.

  “Good. I will make arrangements at the inn where we shall meet with the lady in question and speak freely about the matter two days hence. Does that suit you?” That would give Darcy time enough to consult with Tanner, ensure Mr. Bennet’s good health, and tell Elizabeth everything he had learned since arriving in London. There was a great deal to relate to her.

  “Yes. Thank you, Mr. Darcy.” He stood as Darcy did.

  “Until Saturday then, Mr. Nelson,” Darcy said with a bow. He needed to leave. He had kept his emotions in check remarkably well. He had been firm without cutting off Georgiana’s hopes. If Mr. Nelson loved her, he would be willing to wait for her. He would establish himself in his profession and only propose when he was capable of providing for Georgiana’s needs and she had matured enough to see to his.

  The energy Darcy had restrained flowed through his body, making his knuckles itch and his limbs restless. It was time to pay Gentleman Jackson a brief call.

  Bang!

  Elizabeth’s heart leapt into her chest. Where was Father?

  Bang!

  Running to the study, she saw him peering out of his window, a book clutched in his hand.

  “Where is that dreadful noise coming from, Lizzy? I can see nothing through the window. It is too late in the day and the sound is too close for hunting,” he observed, moving over to the window on the other side of his immense bookshelf.

  She joined him, relieved he was safe. The past two days had been excruciating. Every bump and scraping noise had sent her pulse racing. Every exclamation had her holding her breath. Nothing had happened in the safety of Longbourn, but Father was restless. As was she. As was everyone in their household.

  Thomas brought an armful of wood in to revive the fire.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Bennet, Miss Elizabeth,” he greeted.

  Pulling his spectacles down, Father asked, “It was a peaceful afternoon before that infernal racket began. Do you know from whence the shots proceed?”

  Standing up and brushing his hands, Thomas shook his head. “It comes from the other side of the barn, sir. Mr. Collins acquired a pistol and asked me to help him set up a target for him to practice.”

  Mr. Collins had a pistol? How terrifying! Elizabeth shook her head along with Thomas, at a loss for words.

  Father pinched the top of his nose and squinted his eyes. “That is rather disturbing news,” he voiced aloud.

  Thomas nodded in agreement, but dared not say anything against a guest in their home.

  “Did Mr. Collins give a reason for this madness? It is rather unusual for a clergyman to carry a weapon,” asked Father.

  “His intentions are good, sir. Of that I feel leave to reassure you.”
<
br />   “Mr. Collins’ intentions are always good,” Elizabeth mumbled.

  Father retorted, “Especially if you ask him.”

  Thomas continued, “He spoke in a roundabout way of the passage where King David defended his sheep against a bear. It was my understanding he means to protect you, sir.”

  Father laughed. “Protect me? Did you see if he is any better with that weapon than he is with a hunting rifle?” Looking at Elizabeth, he added, “I suppose that is one way to discourage Mr. Hurst from calling.”

  Thomas shuffled his feet, answering hesitantly, “He nearly shot the tip of his boot when I showed him how to fire the pistol. Jumped back as quickly as the shot sounded, he did. And it was a good thing too.”

  Elizabeth closed her eyes and sighed. How could she cajole the pistol away from Mr. Collins before he shot someone — or himself — by accident?

  Mr. Bennet stepped away from the window. “Thank you, Thomas. Perhaps you had best alert the servants to remain indoors for the time being. Nightfall is descending upon us and Mr. Collins will not be able to continue for much longer.”

  Once Thomas had gone, Father added, “And then we shall see about hiding his gunpowder.”

  Chapter 20

  The night passed without incidence — for which Elizabeth was grateful.

  Yawning and stretching, she washed and dressed. Making her way downstairs in the quiet calm of dawn while the rest of the residents at Longbourn slept, she saw Father reading his newspaper in the breakfast room. His bottle of tonic sat beside his half-empty coffee cup, a clean spoon beside it.

  Father reached for his steaming cup, raising it to Elizabeth as she sat beside him. “I owe you my everlasting gratitude, my dear. There are few things I enjoy in life more than an intriguing book, a thoughtful debate, and a hot cup of coffee to chase away the fog in my brain.”

  “I noticed you have yet to take your tonic. Make sure you do so or I will suggest to Mrs. Hill that she slip it into your coffee as she did before.”

  Father’s face scrunched up in distaste. “That is a horrible suggestion and I will prevent it by drinking this vile liquid with you as my witness.”

  Pouring the medicine into the spoon and pinching his nose, he swallowed. Pounding his chest and clearing his throat, he gladly accepted the refilled coffee with sugar Elizabeth handed him.

  Smacking his lips together, he said, “Delicious,” sarcastically.

  Elizabeth laughed with him. “That was very brave, Papa.”

  Father’s smile faded, replaced by a serious expression. Resting one hand on top of hers, he said, “I know I complain, but I will do what I must not to bring any more hardship on my girls. Losing one parent is enough. I will not deny you the other.”

  “For which I am eternally grateful to you. It will be bad enough living so far away, I cannot imagine how I would manage if you were truly gone.” Her eyes burned and she blinked rapidly.

  “I will visit often, my girl, and I know I need not remind you that Longbourn will always welcome you and your new family.” He patted her hand and took another sip of coffee.

  Her new family. She and Miss Darcy had resided under the same roof for a fortnight and they were no closer to befriending each other than they had been on the first day they had met.

  William’s delay in London added to Elizabeth’s anxiety. How would he forgive her if Lydia had involved his sister in a foolish plan?

  “Speaking of Mr. Darcy, when is he expected to return? I had thought he would be back by now.”

  So had she.

  “I suspect he will return today, though I do not know for certain.”

  “Hmm. I know you would prefer for me to remain indoors until we know for certain whether my life is in danger or not—”

  “Papa, the ladder was cut.”

  He raised a finger. “But that does not mean someone wishes to kill me. I only suffered a bump on the head and a few bruises.”

  “People have died from injuries to the head.”

  He tapped his finger against his forehead. “Ah, but you see, that is where I have an advantage. I appear to have an extraordinarily hard head.”

  “This is not a laughing matter, Papa. Even Mr. Collins was concerned enough to get a pistol. What if your enemy meets with greater success next time?”

  “You think there will be a next time?” he asked.

  “I do not doubt it.” Her gut felt it. Her mind deduced it was not only possible, but likely.

  Father sighed. “I cannot live my days in fear, trapped inside my own home, Lizzy. I need to breathe fresh air and feel the sun on my face — if it deems to make an appearance today.”

  He was not the only one to long for the freedom beyond the walls. For the past week, Elizabeth had foregone her morning walks in order to keep him indoors. Not only her body missed the activity, but her mind did as well. Without the clarity her morning strolls through the fields brought Elizabeth, her worries had multiplied until she could imagine how Mother had often felt when she complained about her nerves. Elizabeth did not go so far as to carry a bottle of smelling salts and tie a fan around her wrist with a ribbon, but it was tempting.

  Finishing his cup and setting it beside the folded newspaper, Father said, “I aim to take my gig into Meryton this morning. A quick drive into the village to the haberdashery where Mr. Burk has a room of furniture I wish to purchase for Longbourn and a quick ride back. Nothing more. The ladder may have had some help in collapsing, but I do not know if the same is true of my dining room chair. I would rather not have a guest fall to the floor when it is in my power to prevent it.”

  Elizabeth wanted to object, to insist he wait.

  She heard a creak on the steps. Their household was awakening.

  “Straight there and back? And you will always stand where you are easily seen by the villagers? I could go with you—”

  “No,” Father interrupted. “You should spend some time with Miss Darcy. I notice how she prefers Lydia’s company and it concerns me. I believe it would concern Mr. Darcy, too.”

  Father had no idea. Nor would Elizabeth enlighten him just then. He had greater concerns.

  “Do not fear for me, Lizzy. If I feel the need for protection, I will invite Mr. Collins and his flintlock pistol along.”

  That was not reassuring in the least.

  Meryton was within view, and Darcy went over his plan in his mind once again. He would go to the inn where Lawrence would await him with a change of clothes and a sharp razor to tend to the rough hair covering his chin. Elizabeth liked the smell of the soap he used.

  Then, he would call at Longbourn.

  Or maybe he would encounter Elizabeth walking in the fields. He pulled out his pocket watch. It was late for her normal stroll, but he did not lose anything in trying. The distance was not great.

  Riding through Meryton, Darcy appreciated the quiet of country life in comparison to the hustle and bustle of town. It was what he loved about Pemberley. His heart longed for his home. Fifteen days more would bring him that much closer. As soon as Elizabeth gave the word, they could go home.

  After passing the last of the thatched houses speckled along the edge of the village, Darcy continued down the road leading to Longbourn, his eyes scanning over the fields on either side of him for a nimble figure strolling gracefully through the grass, the loose ribbons of her bonnet fluttering in the breeze and her hem inches damp with dew. Her eyes would be bright with the exercise and her cheeks pink — the same color of the petals on Darcy’s favorite rose bush visible from his bedchamber window.

  Lost in his daydream, he startled when a sharp crack pierced through the quiet. Holding his horse steady and noting how the stallion’s ears pressed back against his head, a sure sign of danger ahead, Darcy pushed forward, his heart thumping against his ribs. Only a pistol could make that noise. And it had come from the direction of Longbourn.

  Darcy heard the pounding hooves and jingling harnesses before he saw the conveyance. A man shouted from his
gig, holding the reins which did nothing to slow his horses, his white hair flurrying wildly about him. Mr. Bennet.

  Loosening his hold on the reins, Darcy spurred his stallion forward. He had to reach the horses before Mr. Bennet lost his seat. If he fell … If that gig reached Meryton…. “Hyah!” shouted Darcy, demanding more speed from his mount.

  Darcy surged forward, his eyes focusing on the horse nearest him. If he could whip around quickly enough, he could overtake them and grab the panicked horse’s noseband.

  Nearly there. Nearly there. Only seconds more.

  The gig shook, and Darcy was close enough now to see the panic on Mr. Bennet’s face. Darcy watched in horror as one of the wheels fell into a rut sending the conveyance careening to the side.

  The horses pulled against their loose harnesses, trying to escape from the uneven burden behind them, but the rut was deep and the ground rushed up on one side of the gig while the opposite wheel spun in the air.

  Mr. Bennet, reins still in hand, lurched wildly to the side, hitting the packed dirt beside the road hard as the horses pulled the gig out of the rut, gaining speed on the level dirt … heading straight for the village.

  Mr. Bennet would have to wait.

  With a final push, Darcy spun his horse around, leaned over, and grabbed whatever bits of leather and mane he could grasp while tapping the sides of his stallion lest the runaway horses pull him off the saddle.

  The first homes leading into Meryton passed and Darcy shouted for people to clear the path. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw them scurrying away, spreading his warning to their neighbors.

  The horses slowed their pace. They were at the edge of the village when Darcy saw Tanner running toward him. He held his hands out in front of him as he approached, grabbing the noseband of the horse opposite Darcy and digging his heels into the ground, slowing the jittery horses to a walk.

  Darcy had never seen anybody do anything so foolish in his life, but he was not about to take Tanner to pains for it then. As dangerous as running toward spooked horses had been, Tanner was unharmed, the horses were under control, and Darcy could lose no more time in returning to Mr. Bennet.