by P. O. Dixon
Moments after entering the modest foyer, their coats dripping with rain, a maid addressed them. She accepted their wet things, which had spared them the worst of the downpour, and handed Elizabeth a fresh linen cloth to wipe her face.
Grateful, Elizabeth smiled. “Is Mrs. Collins in the parlour?”
“No ma’am. Mr. and Mrs. Collins are both out.”
“Have you any idea where they are or when to expect their return?”
“Mrs. Collins told me to tell you to expect her later this afternoon, ma’am. She and the master went to the village to attend the old widow Scott. Her health has suffered a dreadful setback. Her kin expressed their fears she might not be with us much longer when they came around asking for Mr. Collins.”
What disheartening news. The gusting wind and pounding rain against the heavy wooden door cast an equal uncertainty over the timing of the Collinses’ return. Elizabeth looked at Darcy apologetically. With the house empty, save for the servants, decorum dictated he did not remain with her; however, sending him out in the storm seemed severe. “I fear you are left with my sole company for a bit longer, sir.”
“I shall not consider it a burden.” Whilst the maid busied herself with draping their soaked coats, Darcy spoke in a hushed tone. “I shall consider this time alone with you a pleasure, Miss Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth’s eyes opened wide. Did she hear him correctly? How might a gentleman of his means derive pleasure from being confined in such meagre conditions as the Parsonage afforded when the comforts of Rosings existed a half mile away? Perhaps he equated comfort with civility, in which case she might well oblige. She turned to the servant. “May I trouble you to prepare tea?”
“It is no trouble, ma’am.”
“Thank-you, Mrs. Hunter.” Elizabeth turned to Darcy. “Will you join me, sir?”
Darcy followed Elizabeth down a narrow corridor to the parlour. Rather than sit, both walked over to a large window and stared at the huge streaks of rain tracking their way down the panes. It would be just the two of them alone at the Parsonage House for quite a while, for what sane creatures would dare brave the storm by venturing out of doors unless they were already out there in its midst? Elizabeth certainly prayed her dear friend Charlotte and Mr. Collins were somewhere safe and dry.
Bothered by her wet hair dripping on her shoulders, Elizabeth slightly tilted her head, gathered her loosened hair to one side, and began wringing it dry with the cloth the maid had given her. Marvelling at the spectacular prospect of the battering wind and rain, she said, “It seems we were imprudent not to heed Lady Catherine’s advisement on the weather.”
Flashing bolts of lightning and thunder louder than anything she had ever heard rocked the Parsonage. The house shaking, the windows clattering, her heart pounding—Elizabeth fretted. Frightened moments later, she silently questioned what all took place.
Better still, why was she standing face to face with Mr. Darcy? In his arms!
Chapter 4
For a frightening instant, dangerous flashes of light cut across the sky, illuminating it amidst the darkness. Heaven help anyone unfortunate enough to be outside.
“What on earth are you doing? Come away from the window, Anne.” Mrs. Jenkinson approached her charge and handed her a heavy, dark-green shawl.
Sitting in the window seat, Anne accepted the proffered garment but continued to stare into the deluge. “I am worried. I should have insisted upon calling for the carriage for Miss Elizabeth.” The rain washed down the panes in droves. “I fear she is out there in the storm.”
“I fear you are too cold, Anne. Come and sit by the fire whilst I ring for tea.”
Despite a lifetime of her mother’s reproaches, Anne chewed her lowered lip. “I shall not forgive myself if some ill fate should befall Miss Elizabeth.”
Mrs. Jenkinson reached out to Anne and guided her to a seat by the warm fire. “Anne, I hesitated to say anything to you before, but Miss Elizabeth is in good hands.”
“Oh!”
“Indeed, she did not walk to the Parsonage alone. Your cousin escorted her.”
“Do you mean Colonel Fitzwilliam?”
“No, your Mr. Darcy escorted her.” The older woman busied herself by rearranging Anne’s shawl. “I espied the two of them walking along the lane. They, however, took no notice of me.”
Anne placed her hand over her bosom and breathed a sigh of relief. The companion pursed her lips. “I would not be so pleased by the news if I were you.”
“Why ever not? Miss Elizabeth should not be out amidst the storm alone. Mr. Darcy will do everything in his power to make certain she arrives at the Parsonage House safe and sound.”
Mrs. Jenkinson drew in her breath and then released it. “Pardon my saying this, your view of the power a woman like that holds over a young gentleman like Mr. Darcy is rather naïve.”
Anne frowned. “Whatever do you mean, Mrs. Jenkinson?”
Her companion sat beside her. “Last evening, I observed your cousin with utmost care. Were you to ask my opinion, I would say he takes more than a casual interest in Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
“You are not telling me anything I do not already know. However, I am familiar enough with my cousin’s predilections to appreciate he would never act on those feelings. Yes, he admires her, but she is beneath him in consequence. He would find an alliance between the two of them abhorrent.”
Mrs. Jenkinson harrumphed. “There are alliances, and there are alliances.”
Innocent of the ways of the world she might be, but Anne was not entirely ignorant of what went on between a man and a woman. What her companion insinuated was outright scandalous! “Do you forget, Mrs. Jenkinson, that Miss Elizabeth is a gentleman’s daughter? She was not reared to entertain notions of alliances, as you say. She bears an obligation to her family—to herself—to protect her virtue should she ever expect to marry a gentleman of any consequence.”
“Indeed, but while Miss Elizabeth Bennet is clever, she also is rather fond of her own opinions—so much so, she is blinded to the power she might wield over Mr. Darcy should she wish to. What would stop the young woman from using her feminine wiles to her advantage once she realises it?”
Anne crossed her arms and shook her head. “I simply do not believe Miss Elizabeth is capable of such duplicity.”
“You know almost nothing about her.”
“Yes, but I fully intend to spend the next weeks building a greater rapport with Miss Elizabeth. My plan to enlist her support in using her power over my cousin to persuade him to marry me is off to a good start. Once she understands the strength of my devotion to my cousin, she will never betray me by seeking an alliance—any sort of alliance—with him.”
Mrs. Jenkinson placed her hand on Anne’s and squeezed it. “I pray you are correct, Anne—for your sake, for your dear mother’s sake, and likewise, for Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s sake.”
*
The violent storm of emotions within him rivalled the ferocity of the howling winds outside. A near-perfect outing with the woman who had held captive his thoughts most days and nights for the past months had led to this perfect moment—he now had this amazing creature held captive in his arms.
Whilst the storm continued raging outside the window, inside the room things were amazingly clear. As much as he was excited by the prospect of their future felicity, he had not expected things to unfold so fast and with so little trouble to himself as this. Of course, she would be delighted to know she held such a special place in his heart. How, in spite of his struggles, his better judgement, she had earned the right to be the next mistress of Pemberley. She would be ecstatic.
All that notwithstanding, Miss Elizabeth was a gentleman’s daughter, gently bred, innocent. She deserved a proper courtship before he made her one of the happiest women in all of England.
She looked up into Darcy’s face, her wide eyes dark, alluring, bewitching—questioning. Both his hands fell to his sides.
“Are you all right, Miss
Elizabeth?”
“I—” Elizabeth cleared her throat. She glanced around the room and then placed her tiny hand over her heart. “I cannot recall being more frightened by anything in my life.”
“Please, come away from the window.”
A servant tapped on the parlour door and then eased into the room. She curtseyed. “I was sent to tell you all is well, ma’am.”
Elizabeth breathed a deep sigh of relief. “Do you know what happened? The house—”
“Yes, ma’am. The lightning struck the giant oak tree out back—split it straight down the middle. Cook says we shall have lots of firewood,” said the servant girl, smiling nervously. “Pardon me, ma’am. I shall tend the fire and be on my way.”
“No—I shall tend the fire.”
As if struck by lightning herself, the young girl jumped at the commanding tone of his voice. She opened her mouth to say something and closed it just as quickly. Moments later, her voice cracking, she muttered, “Yes, sir.” She backed away and dipped a deferential curtsey. “Tea will be ready in a bit. Pardon me.”
By now, Elizabeth was much more at ease. Darcy detected in her eyes a bit of mischief combined with a hint of incredulity.
“What is the matter, Miss Elizabeth? Do you believe I am incapable of tending the fire?”
Admittedly, his taking up the servant’s task was impulsive. He wanted the girl to be on her way as much as she had wanted to leave.
“You rather surprise me, sir.”
“I am a man of many surprises, Miss Elizabeth, as you shall soon find out.” He led her to a comfortable chair. “Please, have a seat.”
A sharp thunderbolt rattled Elizabeth. She spun around towards the window.
He smiled at her unguarded reaction to nature’s taking its marvellous course. “Were I a betting man, Miss Elizabeth, I would wager a small fortune I have discovered your deepest, darkest secret.”
“Oh!”
“Yes, you are afraid of lightning.” He walked over to the window and drew the heavy shades. “There, is that better?”
She pressed her palm to her heart once more. “Yes, much better.” An amusing hint of defiance played across her face. “Supposing what you say is true, there are worse failings than fear of lightning. Do you not agree, Mr. Darcy?”
“Indeed. One might suffer a fear of snakes—even a fear of snails.” He fixed his eyes upon hers. “Mind you, Miss Elizabeth, I would not dare ascribe those particular fears to you. You have chosen your fear wisely.”
“You mean to tease me, Mr. Darcy, but I shall consider your assertion a true compliment, for my particular fear holds the power to split mighty oaks in two.” She crossed her arms over her chest and straightened her long, slender neck. “Mine is a most worthy fear indeed.”
“Indeed. However, you need not suffer any fears when with me—large or small, for I shall protect you from all manners of adversity.”
Darcy returned to the fireplace and resumed tending the fire. Moments later, a light and pleasing hint of chamomile and lavender flooded his being. He looked up. She was standing close behind him.
Peering over his shoulder, she said, “Are you certain you know what you are about, sir?”
He put his task aside, brushed his hands together, and stood upright. He turned to face her. “You doubt my skills, madam?”
“Indeed, I do not, sir. I suppose you are quite capable of riding horseback, shooting, fencing—”
“To say nothing of my deftness in the art of giving orders and commanding others to do my bidding.”
“Indeed, sir. And let us not forget your remarkable talent in the finer art of writing long letters and mending pens.”
Darcy moved a bit closer to Elizabeth. He leaned forward. “Now you are the one who is teasing, but I promise you, young lady, I have stoked many fires during my time.”
“Then, why is this fire rather less of a fire since you began stoking it?”
“Have patience,” he said. Then, with a hint of amusement etched in his voice, he continued. “And have a seat.”
Elizabeth returned to her chair, and Darcy resumed his task. Moments later, the fire behaved as he had intended. What a relief, for he was certain she would never let him forget had his efforts proved fruitless. Not that he ever would forget this day. A raging thunderstorm outside whilst Elizabeth and he were safely inside—what could be better than that?
The servant girl returned. She stayed long enough to place the tea service before quickly quitting the room.
Elizabeth prepared his cup of tea just the way he liked and handed it to him. What pleasure he took in the notion that she remembered such an insignificant thing about him. She prepared her own cup in exactly the same way. What other commonalities did they share? What joy he anticipated in discovering each and every one of them.
The sound of thunder rumbled in the distance. The storm was letting up. After a few moments of quiet bliss and several lingering sips of tea, Elizabeth said, “My sister Jane is in London. Did you happen to see her?”
What an odd question? Where would I come across her sister?
Then again, Miss Bingley had spoken of seeing Miss Bennet in town. She had mentioned to Darcy that Miss Bennet had called on her. She subsequently had ventured to Cheapside to return the courtesy. Of course, Miss Elizabeth must surely be privy to all that.
“No—I have had no occasion to see your sister in town.”
The two were now silent, sipping their tea, occasionally sharing glances. Whilst Elizabeth’s subdued demeanour was a stark contrast to many of her livelier moments in Hertfordshire when they had sparred against each other rather mercilessly, often to the dismay of his friend Charles Bingley and the displeasure of his friend’s sister, Miss Bingley, this time with her was just as satisfying. Attributing her deportment to the stormy weather, Darcy relished the quiet solitude of their companionship.
“You all quitted Netherfield rather suddenly, Mr. Darcy. I imagine Mr. Bingley must have suffered a most agreeable surprise to see you all after him so soon. I hope he and his sisters were well when you left London.”
Perhaps what she meant was she was disappointed by his sudden departure. This was her subtle manner of telling him she missed him—that she had been agreeably surprise in seeing him in Kent. I pray she will understand my foolish thinking at the time I quit Netherfield—that I left not to hurt her but to protect myself. What a fool’s errand!
Darcy nervously tugged at his sleeve. “The Bingleys were perfectly so, I thank you.” Enough talk about the Bingleys.
“When do you suppose Mr. Bingley will return to Hertfordshire?”
Why did it surprise him that Elizabeth would be asking of his friend’s plans, what with the less varied society in Hertfordshire. The four and twenty families her mother had boasted of dining with must surely become tiresome company after a time.
Darcy shook his head. “He has never mentioned his plans in that regard to me, but it is probable he may spend very little of his time at Netherfield in the future. He enjoys the company of many friends, and he is at a time of life when friends and engagements are always increasing.”
Of course, Bingley will want to return to Hertfordshire to attend our wedding. Darcy smoothed his brow. This must certainly expose him to Mrs. Bennet’s scheming once again. Pray he will have the fortitude to withstand her shenanigans.
“If Mr. Bingley means to be but little at Netherfield, it would be better for the neighbourhood that he should give up the place entirely, for then we might one day get a settled family there.”
“Indeed. I should not be surprised if he were to give up the lease; however, the prospect of whether or not Netherfield is soon taken up by a more settled family will likely be of little concern to you, Miss Elizabeth.”
The lovely turn of her countenance told Darcy everything he needed to comprehend as regarded the direction her thoughts tended. All he need do was remain patient a while longer.
Elizabeth looked about the parlour with some
frequency. “This is a comfortable room,” said Darcy. “I recall my aunt saying she did a great deal to fix the house up when Mr. Collins first arrived.”
That little twist of her lips when she smiled took his breath away. “Yes, I am obliged to agree. Your aunt could not have bestowed her kindness on a more grateful object.”
The sound of the front door opening and the attendant raucous of someone grateful for having reached a haven from the storm filled the hallway. Not too long afterwards, Mr. and Mrs. Collins floated into the parlour where Darcy and Elizabeth sat. No doubt, we talked them up.
Relief mixed with disquiet etched across Elizabeth’s face. Of course, she would be calmed owing to her friend’s safe return. But surely, she must be disappointed their visit was at an end. Darcy certainly was, but not so much as to keep him from planning his imminent escape. He simply could not abide the obsequious gentleman of the house for longer than a few minutes at a time.
“Mr. Darcy, I beg your forgiveness.” Mr. Collins bowed deep at the waist. “Had I been aware I had the honour of your presence here in my humble abode, I would have braved the storm to attend you.”
Darcy stood. “Think nothing of it.” He looked at Charlotte and bowed slightly. “Mrs. Collins.” He turned to Elizabeth. “Miss Elizabeth, it has been a pleasure.”
Mr. Collins hindered Darcy’s departure. “I do hope we shall enjoy the pleasure of your company again, Mr. Darcy.”
His eyes fixed upon Elizabeth, Darcy said, “Indeed. I have cause to believe I shall be calling upon you with some regularity.”
Chapter 5
Spring’s bright, reassuring sun greeted the new day. What a blessing after nature’s disturbance the prior afternoon. A rather concerned late morning caller at the Parsonage House also made for a welcome surprise.
“Anne, I am honoured to receive you, though I am astonished you braved the aftermath of last night’s storm by venturing out of doors,” said Charlotte.
