by Jann Rowland
In turn, she told him some little anecdotes of Meryton, of some of the people with whom he was acquainted. She was often playful in her descriptions, but she was so droll, her tone so affectionate, that there was no possibility of taking offense to her sometimes irreverent accounts. It was quite literally the most delightful time he had ever spent with a woman.
When they returned to the house, it was to the sight of an obviously angry Anne de Bourgh staring at them. She was tapping her foot with impatience, arms akimbo, and an expression on her face that could have curdled fresh milk.
“It seems, Miss Elizabeth, I must speak to you again about your behavior toward my intended” said she before Darcy or Elizabeth could speak. “Given your descent, I must attribute your highly forward and improper actions to your upbringing. Regardless, it stops now! You will leave Darcy alone!”
“You are quite mistaken if you think your childish demands will have any effect on me,” replied Miss Elizabeth. Darcy was impressed all over again because of her confidence and determination not to be intimidated. “I have done nothing wrong. Perhaps you should turn your attention on some other man. If you should do so, you might wish to choose a man who is disposed toward you, if such a man exists.”
The signs of an impending explosion were all there, and for a moment Darcy thought his cousin would fly at Miss Elizabeth with talons extended.
“Miss Elizabeth,” said he, bowing to her and showing her with a grin that he was not upset with her, “perhaps you would be so good as to return to the sitting-room alone? I believe I must speak with my cousin.”
Though Miss Elizabeth eyed Anne with more than a hint of contempt, she readily agreed and removed herself down the hall. Darcy watched her go, wondering what it would be like if she was never forced to leave him again. It was a heady thought, and one which he wished to explore to its fullest extent.
“I thought you would never come to your senses, Fitzwilliam,” said Anne, breaking into his reverie. “Now, shall we repair to some other chamber where we may discuss our future together?
Darcy turned to his cousin, filled with distaste for this task, which he had performed many times previously, but with negligible effect. “I believe where we are situated is quite sufficient for the task at hand.”
The start of surprise from his cousin nearly prompted Darcy to roll his eyes. Even now, after all that had happened, all the many times he had told her, the disinclination for her company, and the attentions he was paying to Miss Elizabeth which were becoming ever more manifest, she could not understand. What was he to do to induce her to cease this objectionable behavior?
“I do not believe I wish to receive my proposal—finally—in the middle of a hallway near the entrance of my mother’s house.”
“Then you shall have your wish, for I will not propose.
Darcy began to pace, feeling the need to work off the excess energy which his anger at his cousin always produced. His only other option was strangling her, and Darcy did not think that would be acceptable.
“Anne, what can you be thinking of? Have I not told you repeatedly that I will not marry you? Why do you continue to hold to this doomed dream of yours?”
“My mother and yours agreed to our engagement when we were in our cradles,” said Anne, her tone defensive.
“By the time you were in your cradle,” said Darcy, his voice laced with sarcasm, “I was already riding my first pony.”
“You are well aware of what I mean,” snapped Anne. “When we were young, they planned our union. I was always meant to be the mistress of Pemberley and of Rosings, not some jumped up social climber.”
“Enough, Anne!” growled Darcy. He stopped his pacing and stood directly in front of her, looking down on her, his affront almost beyond endurance. “You will not denigrate Miss Elizabeth. She is everything lovely and good, and I will not have her attacked.”
“It seems I must censure her, as you will not!”
“Enough!” said Darcy, this time his voice descending into the lower registers. Anne started, and she stepped from him in alarm. Though Darcy should have been ashamed with himself for using his physical size to intimidate her, he found he could not. The woman was pushing him beyond all endurance!
“Our mothers’ conversations were nothing more than idle speculations. My mother informed me of this, as has yours, and I have it on good authority that your mother also spoke with you.”
“It was not idle speculation!” screeched Anne. She stamped her foot in annoyance, and with her diminutive size, it made her seem like a spoiled child.
“Are there any marriage articles signed?” asked Darcy. That brought her up short, and she looked at him with astonishment. “Did my father and yours draft our nuptial agreements? If they did, I have not seen them.”
“It was our mothers’ agreement.”
“No, it was not! And even if it was, our fathers needed to ratify it to make it binding, and they needed to do so in writing. Even if it was, as you say, a tacit agreement between our mothers, neither one of us is in any way bound so long as it was not committed to paper by a solicitor.
“Heed me now, Anne, for this is the last time I shall ever repeat myself. I will not marry you. I am not bound to marry you. We do not suit, and I have no wish to have you as a wife.”
“But you will have Rosings too! We will be among the richest families in all of England.”
“That is nothing to me. I am not interested in owning Rosings. Find some other man who wishes to marry you. You should have no difficulty with this estate as your dowry.”
With those words, Darcy turned on his heel and stalked away from her. He was not fit to join the others in the sitting-room, much though he wished to be in Miss Elizabeth’s presence again, so he took himself to the billiard room to allow his emotions to cool. The clacking of the balls as he rapped them against one another was satisfying for a man who was on the verge of doing violence.
Chapter X
Lady Catherine was uncertain where she had gone wrong and what she had done to deserve such an exasperating daughter. Despite her not knowing, there was no doubt she had one.
Though she had thought to enjoy a quiet morning in her rooms, her solitude was interrupted by the entrance of her only daughter and by the mottled hue of her countenance—her complexion often suffered when she was terribly angry—something had happened to infuriate her.
“Mama!” exclaimed she. “I must insist that the Bennets be thrown from the house this instant!”
“Oh, Anne,” said Lady Catherine, wearily rubbing her temples, “what is it now?”
“Miss Elizabeth is determined to have Darcy! They were walking the grounds all morning together. She is using her arts and allurements to capture him. I know it!”
“I do not believe she intends any such thing, Anne. If there is any chasing being done, it is all on Darcy’s part.”
“No! I will not allow it!”
“There is nothing you can do, Anne,” snapped Lady Catherine. “A man has a choice, and you know Darcy likes to have his way as much as any man. He will not be forced into marriage, as your antics from last week should have told you. Why do you want a man who does not want you in turn?”
“Because it will elevate us to the very highest levels of society.”
“You do not even know what constitutes the highest levels of society. And if you did, you would not wish to go there.”
“We will be one of the most powerful families in the kingdom.”
It was all Lady Catherine could do not to sigh at her recalcitrant daughter. She beckoned for her to sit on the sofa beside her, which Anne did, though her mutinous glare never wavered.
“There is more to life than riches and status, Anne. If that is all that mattered, you might not exist.”
Anne was suspicious. “Of what are you speaking?”
“You do not think I had other options when I married your father? I married him because we shared a mut
ual attraction and an honest affection with each other. But he was not the match your grandfather wished for. I am the daughter of an earl, after all, and I might have married one of equal status, had I chosen to do so.
“For that matter, neither of my father’s daughters married as high as he wished. The Darcys, for all their wealth and their respected name, are not nobility, and your grandfather felt we could do better. But he gave his blessing because he knew we both wished it. You should think about that when you fix on Darcy as a marriage partner against his will. He does have a choice. He and you do not share the same ambitions. He is perfectly indifferent to status and power. Perhaps, if these are things which will make you happy, you should search for them elsewhere.”
For a moment, Lady Catherine thought she had reached her daughter, as Anne appeared introspective. But it was not long before she huffed loudly and rose to her feet.
“Darcy simply does not know what he wants. I am determined to teach him.”
Then she turned on her heel and flounced from the room. Lady Catherine watched her go, wondering what else she could do. Perhaps nothing was to be done. Anne would need to discover for herself that she and Darcy did not suit, and perhaps more importantly, that Darcy would not be forced into anything.
But perhaps their conversation had not all been for naught. Though Anne had remained stubborn until the end, it seemed to Lady Catherine that she had at least been thoughtful about what she had been told. There might be a way to use it later, to make her understand.
For her part, Lady Catherine was delighted by how matters were progressing. Fitzwilliam had taken to Jane Bennet from the very start, and it seemed like the girl had been equally responsive to his overtures. It was well that she had already recovered from her disappointment with Mr. Bingley by the time Fitzwilliam had come, or it might have been more difficult to induce her to give her heart over to him. Fitzwilliam was as constant as the tide, and Lady Catherine knew that he would never break the young woman’s heart.
As for Darcy and Miss Elizabeth, if they were walking this morning, it was just the latest instance of it, for Lady Catherine knew they had walked out together—or met somewhere along the way—several times. There still might be some impediments from Darcy’s side that she would have to help him overcome, but, in the end, she thought the attraction would be too strong for any objections he might have. Her nephew would be very happy.
Though she was correct about Darcy and Miss Elizabeth’s propensity to walk out together, Lady Catherine did not know the extent of their meetings in Rosings’ woods. Though it began as a sort of purposeful coincidence, soon they had begun to walk out together rather than meeting when they were already out. The privacy suited them both very well, indeed. Not only were they left to their own devices without jealous cousins to interrupt them, but it also allowed them to come to know each other better very quickly.
Unfortunately, on one of their walks, this was soon to change. On a day when the weather was warm and the wind kissed their cheeks as they talked and laughed, they strayed too close to the parsonage and found themselves walking a path close to the edge of the woods. Though there did not seem to be anyone in evidence, they found out soon that they had been observed by someone they would both prefer not to see.
They continued on the path which led further back into the woods, talking and laughing among themselves as was their wont. And the discussion soon turned to Mrs. Bennet’s peculiar behavior.
“Can I assume, Miss Elizabeth, that your mother has quite a different idea of who is courting whom?”
Miss Elizabeth rolled her eyes and she laughed. “Unfortunately, you do have the right of it, sir.”
“But I do not understand,” said Darcy, feeling quite out of his depth. “I have never shown a hint of interest in Miss Bennet, and Fitzwilliam, though he is friendly with all, has never given you any particular notice. Does she not see this?”
“You have to understand my mother, Mr. Darcy.” Miss Elizabeth shook her head. “She sees what she wishes to see. You are the man of greater consequence, so naturally you would be drawn to her most beautiful daughter. As for myself—well, she sees that Colonel Fitzwilliam is an amiable man, so she sees me as a good match for him, as we are alike in temperament. To be honest, I am a little surprised that she did not attempt to direct Colonel Fitzwilliam to Lydia, as she quite considers her to be superior to any of her other daughters excepting Jane.”
“Then I must think she is blind. You are easily the equal of your sister, Miss Elizabeth.”
To Darcy’s delight, Miss Elizabeth’s cheeks colored with pleasure, and she peeked at him shyly from behind her long lashes. The fingers which grasped his arm flexed, and Darcy irrationally wished he could touch her more openly than was presently acceptable.
“I thank you, sir, though I must wonder if you require spectacles. Anyone can see that Jane is more beautiful than any of us by far.”
“You may hold to that opinion. Mine is different.”
Miss Elizabeth turned a shade darker, but she immediately shook off her embarrassment. “Regardless, that is the way my mother thinks. Jane and I both have attempted to tell her the true state of affairs, but she will not listen. It will take irrefutable proof before she will see what is truly happening.”
“Then I hope it will happen soon. For I do not—”
“Mr. Darcy! Mr. Darcy!”
The sound of a voice calling his name interrupted what Darcy was saying, and he turned to see Mr. Collins hurrying toward them. The man was quite obviously not used to running, for he puffed and wheezed, pulling in great gulps of air, and expelling them with great force. The sound of his steps along the dirt path revealed his gait to be nothing more than the stagger his drunken swaying proclaimed it to be.
He was on them as quickly as he could manage, and though he evidently meant to say something as soon as he had stopped before them, his attempts to catch his breath rendered speech impossible.
“What is wrong, Mr. Collins?” asked Elizabeth, though her smirk suggested to Darcy that she knew exactly why the man had hurried to catch them. “Surely everything is well at the parsonage.”
“Of course . . . it is, C-Cousin,” wheezed Mr. Collins. “I m-merely saw . . . you walking, and . . . wished to j-join . . . you.”
“How . . . polite of you, Mr. Collins,” said Darcy, looking at his lady love with a question in his eye. Miss Elizabeth shook her head.
“Then, shall we t-take . . . this way together?” asked Mr. Collins, as he began to regain his breath.
“Surely you have other things with which you must occupy yourself,” said Darcy, unwilling to relinquish this time with Miss Elizabeth to this loquacious toad.
“On the contrary, sir. I am q-quite at my leisure, for I have . . . completed those tasks . . . set before me this morning.”
“Very well, sir,” said Elizabeth. “We were just about to turn in the direction of Rosings.”
“Excellent!” exclaimed Mr. Collins. “I have some business—”
Unfortunately for the parson, Elizabeth and Darcy both turned at that moment, and they began to walk together, neither caring if the parson followed them. As they walked, Darcy listened for the sound of Mr. Collins hurrying after them, and for a few moments there was silence.
“Do you think we surprised him enough that he will simply leave us be?” asked Darcy.
Miss Elizabeth laughed. “I think you may be giving him too much credit, Mr. Darcy. I should think that he will be along any moment now.”
True to her prediction, they soon heard scurrying footsteps, and within moments Mr. Collins was walking behind them. Darcy attempted to take the simple expedient of ignoring the man and concentrating on Miss Elizabeth. Unfortunately, the intimacy of their walk together was lost, with the man voicing his officious nothings behind them.
“Do you know, Mr. Darcy, that I am considering the subject for my sermon this Sunday?”
“I imagine that i
s a subject which occupies you with great frequency, Mr. Collins,” said Darcy, attempting to inform the man with his tone that he was not interested.
“Indeed, it is, for you see, I must give a sermon every week. I set apart a certain amount of time during the week to write my comments out, and though my sermons often proceed from the inspiration of the moment, I still take the time to write down some little elegant words which I can insert at any time.”
“That is interesting, Mr. Collins. If you will allow me to give you a little advice?”
“Of course, sir! I would be happy to hear anything you have to say.”
“Then my suggestion is to write your entire sermon, sir. As a graduate of university myself, and one to whom speaking does not come naturally, I always found that my remarks made more sense, were less repetitious, and were always received better than when I simply spoke without writing anything down.”
“I see. Well . . . Perhaps . . .” It was clear that Mr. Collins was not certain if Darcy had just insulted him. Miss Elizabeth seemed to understand that his words had been part censure—Mr. Collins had shown no talent for sermon making, and his delivery might be improved should he write his remarks out in full—and part advice. Regardless, they were able to speak for several moments unimpeded, while Mr. Collins attempted to work it through in his mind.
At length, however, he seemed to realize that their conversation had continued without his input, and he took steps to rectify it. But the actions he took to insert himself into the conversation nearly provoked Darcy to throw him into the dirt.
It must be understood that Miss Elizabeth was a diminutive woman, smaller in both height and weight than any of her sisters, and that Mr. Collins was, in fact, a large man, one who was made even heavier by the distinct paunch he carried around his middle. The first indication Darcy had that the man meant to interrupt was when he heard Mr. Collins’s heavy footsteps approach rapidly. Then Miss Elizabeth gasped as she was pushed aside roughly and she stumbled, though she quickly righted herself.
