by P. O. Dixon
Darcy sat on the blanket across from Anne, close enough that they might speak in intimacy, but not so close she would feel emboldened enough to lace her hands through his arm again. Yes, they were cousins, but what on earth had prompted her to commit such a familiar act, and in front of Miss Elizabeth, no less?
Anne first broke the silence. “Richard and Miss Elizabeth are a handsome couple. Do you not agree, Cousin?”
Darcy furrowed his brow. Couple?
“I do not mean to suggest they are a true couple—nor have I seriously considered it.”
Darcy shook his head. “No doubt, Anne. I need not remind you that Richard is a second son. In general, younger sons cannot marry where they like, unless their preferences coincide with the sizeable dowries of women of fortune, which I think they often do.” He leaned forward and assumed a friendlier posture. “Richard’s habits of expense make him too dependent, and there are not too many in his rank of life who can afford to marry without some attention to money.”
Anne chuckled. “Pray, what is the usual price of an earl’s younger son?”
“In Richard’s case and knowing his proclivities as well as I do, I would say fifty thousand pounds.” Darcy furrowed his brow. Why had he and the rest of the family never considered it before? An alliance between Anne and Richard—an interesting prospect indeed! If any woman had the fortune needed to keep his cousin in the style to which he had grown accustomed, it was Anne. Darcy dared not to point out any of the aforementioned to Richard. To do so would render him a matchmaker—no different from the scheming mammas of the ton he so despised. Still, it would be a splendid idea if Richard and Anne were to take notice of each other as it would give Lady Catherine something to attach herself to once Darcy and Elizabeth were married.
“Speaking of couples, Anne, how do you suppose Lady Catherine and Lord and Lady Matlock will take to the prospect of Miss Elizabeth joining our family?”
“Do you suppose her lack of fortune would be a consideration against her, Cousin?”
Darcy nodded. “That, and her lack of connections.”
Anne clasped her tiny hands and rested them in her lap. “You know our family well enough to answer your own question. You do not need me to spell things out.”
“Yes, of course you are correct. However, you do not fault Miss Elizabeth for her circumstances. You two are forming a close camaraderie. For that, I am in your debt.”
Anne creased her brow. “Indeed, Cousin. Miss Elizabeth is charming. Were she inclined toward an alliance with a member of our family, I would be delighted, I am sure. However, as I have said, I have not actually considered any such possibility.”
Darcy regarded Anne intently. Why is she speaking in riddles? He shifted restlessly and looked at his pocket watch again. I wonder how long it will be before Elizabeth returns.
*
“At the risk of speaking out of turn as regards my cousin, I could not help but notice his displeasure upon our leave-taking. I wager he would much rather he was walking by your side than I.”
I would not take you up on that, Colonel Fitzwilliam. Elizabeth said, “I fail to comprehend why you would suspect such a thing. Is it not generally understood that Mr. Darcy and Anne are to be married? Perhaps, he will use this time alone with her towards advancing that end.”
Aware from earlier conversations that Mr. Darcy and the colonel’s stay in Kent was nearing its end, she certainly hoped Mr. Darcy would use his time alone with Anne wisely. Time was running out, and Mr. Darcy seemed no more inclined to formalise the engagement with Anne than when he arrived at Kent, despite all her efforts to speak favourably on Anne’s behalf whenever they had been together over the past week.
“Do you certainly leave Kent on Saturday?”
“Yes—if Darcy does not put our departure off again. I am at his disposal. He arranges the business just as he pleases.”
Elizabeth nodded knowingly. “And if not able to please himself in the arrangement, he has at least pleasure in the prodigious power of choice. I do not know anybody who seems more to enjoy the power of doing what he likes than Mr. Darcy.”
“He likes to have his own way very well.”
Elizabeth smiled. “I imagine your cousin brought you down with him chiefly for the sake of having someone at his disposal. Of course, the sooner he marries Anne, the sooner he might secure a lasting convenience of that kind.”
“Were it his intention to marry her, I suppose you would be correct. However, I am not persuaded Darcy has any idea of ever marrying Anne.”
The colonel’s words aptly matched Elizabeth’s earlier conclusion that Mr. Darcy preferred his other cousin—the lovely, vivacious Lady Victoria Fitzwilliam. Poor Anne.
“I imagine such knowledge would devastate Anne. Although, I cannot be half as impressed with Mr. Darcy as is Anne, for she thinks he is the best of men.”
“I am inclined to agree with her. Darcy is a most loyal friend.” He went on to tell Elizabeth of his cousin’s boasting of coming to a friend’s rescue by saving him from a most imprudent match.
Elizabeth turned to face her companion. “Who is this friend of whom you speak?”
The colonel pursed his lips. “I have not much reason for supposing this, but from what I know of Darcy, I assume it was his friend Charles Bingley.”
She stared at him with growing dismay. “Why do you suppose Mr. Bingley is the person whom he spoke of saving?”
He shrugged. “I only suspected it to be Bingley from believing him the kind of young man to get into a scrape of that sort, and from knowing them to have been together the whole of last summer.”
“Did Mr. Darcy give you a reason for this interference?”
“I understood there were some very strong objections against the lady’s family.”
She released a quick breath. “And what arts did he use to separate them?”
“He did not talk to me of his own arts,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam, shrugging. “He only told me what I have now told you.”
Elizabeth made no answer and walked on, her mind swelling with indignation. After a few moments of silent deliberation, she said, “Your cousin’s conduct strikes me as rather officious. Why was he the judge?”
“So, you do not approve of my cousin’s behaviour?”
“I do not see what right Mr. Darcy had to decide on the propriety of his friend’s inclination, or why, upon his own judgment alone, he was to determine and direct in what manner his friend was to be happy.” Elizabeth released a beleaguered sigh. “However, as we are privy to none of the particulars, it is not fair to condemn him. One can only suppose not much affection existed in this case.”
“That is not an unnatural surmise,” said Fitzwilliam, “but if true, it lessens the honour of my cousin’s triumph profoundly.”
Elizabeth dared not trust herself to answer his retort. She had heard all she needed to conjecture the rest. Of course Mr. Bingley was the person of whom the colonel had spoken, unless Mr. Darcy exercised such shameless influence over all his friends. That he had been concerned in the measures taken to separate Bingley and Jane, she had never doubted. However, she had always attributed the principal design and arrangement of them to Caroline Bingley. How awful that she had begun to make a concerted effort to view the gentleman favourably in the wake of Anne’s good opinion and her satisfactorily clearing up the bad impression Mr. Wickham had crafted. She had been so convinced of his amiability towards an alliance between Jane and Mr. Bingley what with all his talk of a future friendship between his young sister and her.
How could he? He had ruined every hope of happiness for the most affectionate, generous heart in the world. Who was to say how lasting an evil he might have inflicted?
Colonel Fitzwilliam studied her for a moment. “All of a sudden, you are quiet and pensive, Miss Elizabeth. Pray tell I have said nothing to bring on this sombre change.”
“No—not at all.” Elizabeth clutched her hands tightly around her upper arms. She had nothing further to
say, least not to him. She wanted to get away so she could think without interruption of all she had heard.
“Shall we return?”
In a voice sounding nothing like her own, she said, “Return?”
“Yes, I shall let the Collinses know it is time we head back. No doubt, Darcy and Anne will be wondering where we are.”
Mr. Darcy! Her heart raced. He was the last man in the world she wished to see.
*
The sight of Mr. and Mrs. Collins, and then Richard returning sent a frisson of panic through Darcy’s being. Rather than sit and wait and worry, he set out to meet them.
Darcy glared at Richard. “Where is Miss Elizabeth?”
“She decided to walk back to the Parsonage House.”
“It is more than five miles! You mean to say you let her return on her own?”
“Did you suppose I would try to stop her? I told her of the folly of her plans. I daresay Miss Elizabeth knows her own mind.”
“Begging your pardon, sir, and please forgive me, Mr. Darcy, if I trespass beyond my bounds,” said Mr. Collins. “However, the colonel speaks nothing but the truth. My fair cousin was adamant against returning with us. Furthermore, she refused Mrs. Collins’s offer to accompany her.”
Charlotte nodded. “Indeed, Mr. Darcy. Fear not, for although the journey is more than five miles by road, we saw to it that Eliza set off on a path that cuts the distance by half.”
“Which way did she go?”
“She strode off in the direction of the old stone temple.”
Effectively dismissing the Collinses with nary a word, Darcy headed towards his horse. Richard fell into place beside him.
“This is not like her. Why would she wish to leave the party?” He looked at his cousin sharply. “The two of you were deep in conversation when you headed off earlier. Did something happen to upset her? What did you two discuss?”
“Nothing, except I told her what a good friend you had been to Bingley last autumn—how you had saved him from an imprudent alliance. Miss Elizabeth seemed intrigued and quite willing to carry the conversation forth.”
Darcy closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I must go to her.”
“Shall I accompany you?”
He looked daggers at his cousin. “Do you not suppose you have done enough already?”
Taken aback, Richard raised his hands in mock surrender. “What exactly is it you think I have done?”
Darcy brushed both hands over his face and exhaled. “Nothing—nothing at all. This is not your fault.” He mounted his horse and gathered the reins from the groomsman. He looked back at Richard. “Please make certain the others arrive home safe and sound.”
*
He was the culprit! His pride and caprice were the cause of all Jane had suffered. Strong objections against the lady’s family! No doubt, those strong objections stemmed from my family’s lack of fortune and want of connections!
To Jane herself, there could be no possibility of objection—all loveliness and goodness as she is! Elizabeth released a beleaguered sigh. I was right all along. Mr. Darcy had been governed by the wish of retaining Mr. Bingley for his sister!
Walking along, silently reciting every line of Jane’s last letter as well as all the other letters which Jane had written to her since her coming to Kent, Elizabeth recalled no actual complaint, nor was there any revival of past occurrences, or any communication of present suffering. But in almost every line of each missive, there lacked the cheerfulness that had formerly characterised her sister’s style.
Now cognisant of the deliberate—nay, the malicious offences against her beloved sister, Elizabeth suffered the pain of Jane’s heartbreak far more passionately than ever.
Oh, how was she going to do Anne’s bidding now? The prospect of spending any time at all in Mr. Darcy’s company was particularly distasteful. My sole consolation is in less than a fortnight I shall leave Kent and be with Jane again. The thought of saying good-bye to Anne, perhaps forever, left her heart a bit heavy, but it was worth the sacrifice if it meant never being in his company again.
The agitation and tears, which the subject occasioned, brought on a headache. The farther she wandered, the worse the pounding grew. Through the thick murkiness of tear-filled eyes, she looked about trying to discern her location.
“Oh, where am I? I should have arrived at the road to the Parsonage by now!” By Charlotte’s account, the walk would take an hour at most. Preoccupied and confused, Elizabeth knew not how long she had rambled. No sign of the road to the Parsonage lay in sight.
Dark clouds now hovered overhead. For an instant, Elizabeth mistook the rumble of approaching hooves with the distant roar of rolling thunder. She spun around and found herself less than a stone’s throw from the despicable man who had been the cause of her dearly loved sister’s lack of spirits.
She turned the other way and pretended she did not hear him calling her name even as tiny raindrops began trickling from the sky. She dared not vouch for what she would say to him if he did not go away!
A sudden burst of light—a resounding boom of thunder, and before Elizabeth knew what she was about, she found herself atop Mr. Darcy’s steed, practically in his lap!
Chapter 7
“How dare you! Put me down this instant! I am quite capable of walking, sir,” she said, still kicking and flailing with as much enthusiasm as she had from the moment he cradled her in his arms and carried her from his horse up to the temple.
Elizabeth’s struggle compelled him to set her on her feet else they both might tumble—not a terrible prospect but for the strong possibility of a few scrapes and bruises. She rectified her dishevelled state. “How dare you swoop in and carry me off as though you were a shining knight in rescue of a poor damsel in distress! I am quite capable of making my way back to the Parsonage House in the rain. I have weathered worse storms than this.”
How utterly charming she is—charming and spirited. Darcy smiled unapologetically. “I found the prospect of capturing you in my arms too tempting to resist. Besides, in a storm as fierce as this, I would have been remiss had I not offered you my services, milady.” He bowed.
She put quite a bit of distance between them. He saw no point in such formalities. He went to her. He reached out. She flinched. She was angrier than he had supposed. She would not even look at him. What was Richard thinking in confiding in her, knowing as he did the strong possibility of Elizabeth being acquainted with the Hertfordshire family whom Darcy had derided?
Elizabeth ignored him when he remarked on his cousin’s obtuse nature in that respect.
Darcy said, “Forgive me for attempting to make light of the situation. Given what Richard told you, in all likelihood, you are deeply troubled. I do not fault you.
“No doubt he told you about my sentiments towards your family and my part in separating your sister and my friend. Your feelings are natural and just. You are worried. My cousin has given you cause to question my affections towards you and my intentions for our future.”
He wanted nothing more than to comfort her in his embrace. He curbed his desire. “You are mistaken. You mean the world to me. Surely you must know that, for I sought to do everything in my power to persuade you of the violence of my affections of late—short of asking for your hand. I wanted to wait until the time was right. After what transpired with Richard, I can think of no better time than the present to clear up this misunderstanding and reassure you of the depth of my affections.”
Indeed, what better time than now and here of all places. This enchanting place filled with wonder had been the makings of some of his dearest memories of when his beloved mother was alive. When he was a child, she had always brought him here during their springtime visits to Kent. It would be just the two of them. The joy of laughter all around, he would run and hide whilst she counted to twenty. She would discover him and wrap him in her arms. His mother had promised this would always be their special place. Now this charming spot would be even more
memorable for he would think of it from that day forth as the place where he first professed his love to Elizabeth.
“For months, I have struggled in vain. It will not do. Upon seeing you again here in Kent, I realised my feelings would not be repressed. I admire you—I love you—most ardently.”
When she turned to face him, he was a bit perplexed. Her countenance screamed outrage. She stared, coloured, and was silent. Still, he had sufficient motive to carry on his speech. She will be pleased soon enough. Darcy continued with an avowal of all he felt—indeed, had long felt for her.
“I have weighed the inferiority of your circumstances, your family’s lack of consequence in comparison to my own, and the inevitable derision that will occur pursuant to an alliance between two people as different as the two of us. All this I have considered, and yet, I am prepared to endure if it means having you as my wife.
“Though I have no doubt of a favourable answer, and though I am well aware you are expecting my proposal, I believe a proper declaration is only fitting. Without further delay, Miss Elizabeth, please do me the honour of accepting my hand.”
The colour rose into her cheeks, but rather than joy, her expression was riddled with defiance. “In such cases as this,” she said, “it is, I believe, the established mode to express a sense of obligation for the sentiments avowed, however unequally they may be returned. It is natural that a sense of obligation, even gratitude, should be expressed, but as I feel neither—”
Darcy interrupted. “Neither? I realise you are upset, but a proposal of marriage is a serious matter.”
“Trust me, Mr. Darcy, I am quite serious. I do not recall ever desiring your good opinion, and you have certainly bestowed it with utmost reluctance.”
He reached his hand out to her. Elizabeth stepped back. “I am sorry to have caused you pain in rejecting your offer; however, I suffer little doubt it will be of short duration, especially in light of the feelings you expressed, which for so long prevented the acknowledgment of your regard.”
