Darcy and Elizabeth What If? Collection 4

by Jennifer Lang

  Chapter Seven

  Elizabeth left Rosings behind her with a feeling of relief. She had not waited for the carriage, but had decided to walk back to the parsonage. She was a good walker and she enjoyed the exercise. In the fresh air, with the signs of spring burgeoning all around her, she felt her anger beginning to dissipate and her emotions stopped churning so that she could think more clearly.

  No matter how much she disliked it, the facts must be faced, and it was a fact that she was married to Mr Darcy. He had not promised to provide her with an annulment and, even if he set his lawyers to work on the matter, she knew that she would need someone to look after her interests. It must be done discreetly, so that no damage would be done to her reputation.

  She thought of her family. She could not ask her mother for help or advice. If Mrs Bennet knew that her daughter was married to Mr Darcy, then, after a period of shock, Mrs Bennet would be exultant. She would bore the neighbourhood with tales of “my son-in-law, the owner of Pemberley” and “my son-in-law, who has ten thousand a year” and “my daughter, Lizzy, who has such pin money!”

  Nor did Elizabeth think she could ask her father. She loved him dearly. He was a clever man but she could not deny that he was indolent. He would very likely laugh at the situation and find it comical. And if, by any chance, he could be persuaded to take the matter seriously, then he would probably tell her that nothing could be done; for to do something would take effort, and Mr Bennet did not like to make an effort in anything.

  Then to whom could she turn?

  The answer came swiftly. Her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner. They were sensible people with experience of the world. Her aunt would take her feelings seriously and would listen to her worries. Her uncle would know the way the law worked and would be able to give her practical assistance. How she wished she could return to London at once and consult with them. For every minute spent at Rosings must now be difficult for her, and every minute delayed the resolution of her problems.

  She took some comfort from the natural world around her. She loved to be in the countryside and the sight of the new leaves forming a green mist around the branches of the trees, together with the nodding heads of the golden daffodils, soothed her spirit, so that by the time she returned to the parsonage she felt much calmer than she had done when she left Rosings.

  But when she entered the parsonage, this calm was quickly shattered, for as soon as she went into the small sitting-room she knew that something was wrong. Charlotte, who was sitting on the sofa with some plain sewing in her lap, looked up. Elizabeth could tell by her expression that she knew what had happened.

  ‘Maria told you,’ she said, sinking down into a chair by the fireplace.

  ‘Do not blame her,’ said Charlotte. ‘She did not mean to betray your secret, but I could tell that something was wrong and I demanded to know what it was. She is my younger sister and she is in the habit of giving in to me. She soon told me what had happened. I believe you are not happy about it?’

  ‘Charlotte!’ Elizabeth was amazed. ‘Surely you are not surprised. You cannot expect me to be happy that I find myself married to an odious man who has ruined the happiness of my beloved sister, to say nothing of him ruining the prospects of Mr Wickham.’

  ‘And yet, you know,’ said Charlotte calmly, as she put another stitch in her needlework, ‘I do not think it is such a bad thing.’

  Elizabeth was horrified.

  ‘How can you say so?’ she demanded.

  ‘You must marry someone, Lizzy, and Mr Darcy is a fine catch.’

  ‘A catch! How I detest that expression. It makes people sound like fishes – although,’ she added mischievously, ‘perhaps, where Mr Darcy is concerned, it is not so far from the truth. He is a cold fish, if ever there was one.’

  Charlotte smiled.

  ‘I am pleased to see you have not lost your sense of humour. But many women would be very pleased to have him as a husband.’

  ‘Then many women are fools,’ said Elizabeth.

  Charlotte stitched quietly for a few minutes, then she said, ‘I know you are not yet one-and-twenty, Lizzy, but time moves more quickly than you think and you might end up, at twenty seven, having to take a man of far less worth than Mr Darcy, or end up an old maid.’

  ‘As you had to take Mr Collins?’ asked Lizzy.

  ‘Yes, ‘ agreed Charlotte. ‘As I had to take Mr Collins. I do not feel sorry for myself and you should not feel sorry for me, either. I knew what kind of a life I would lead with Mr Collins and I chose it with my eyes open. But your life with Mr Darcy would be very different. His wife would have a lot of compensations, should she find herself out of sympathy with her husband. She could go to the London house, leaving him at Pemberley. Or she could stay at Pemberley whilst he went to London. She would have enough money to indulge herself and she could provide her family with security, as well as herself.’

  Not for the first time, Elizabeth was conscious of being disappointed in her friend. On the subject of marriage they had very different views.

  ‘What you say is true, Charlotte, but it will not do. I cannot enter into a loveless marriage, not for all the wealth or security or houses or pin money in the world. Only the deepest, truest love can tempt me into matrimony, and I do not feel that for Mr Darcy. I am determined to see that the marriage is annulled.’

  Charlotte again did not reply for a few minutes, but continued putting her small, neat stitches into a new petticoat.

  ‘And what if Mr Darcy refuses to get an annulment?’

  ‘Charlotte! Why would you say such a thing? I can assure you that he wants this marriage no more than I do.’

  ‘I think you are wrong, Lizzy.’ Charlotte finished sewing her seam, then picked up a small pair of scissors and cut the trailing thread. ‘I think Mr Darcy admires you. I think he has admired you for some time. I thought so in Meryton and now I am certain. He could not take his eyes off you at Rosings when we dined there on your arrival. His gaze was constantly drawn to you and there was an expression in his eyes that told of his admiration.’

  ‘You are wrong, Charlotte!’ said Elizabeth, laughing. ‘If you could have heard Mr Darcy, not an hour ago, telling me that I had planned the whole thing in order to trap him, you would not think that he admired me. Indeed, you would know that he was as desperate to escape from this situation as I am.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ said Charlotte. ‘But I do not think you should rush into anything, and I do not think you should press him. It may be that, when you have had a chance to think about it, you will see the advantages of your situation.’

  ‘There are no advantages to my situation,’ said Elizabeth, somewhat bitterly.

  Charlotte shook out the petticoat turning it round and examining it from each side. Then, pleased with her handiwork, she put it on top of her work basket. She picked it up.

  ‘I must put my sewing away and then I must go and see if Mr Collins is feeling any better. But think about what I have said, Lizzy, I beg you. Take some advice from someone whose opinion you value. Write to your Aunt Gardiner or, better yet, go and visit her. I know you planned to stay here for some weeks and you are very welcome, but if you wish to return to London and spend some time with your aunt, so that you can discus the situation, then you could use Mr Collins’s illness as an excuse for leaving the parsonage before you originally intended.’

  Elizabeth was much struck with this idea. She had already decided she needed advice, and a visit to London would not only allow her to talk to her aunt and uncle, it would also allow her to talk to Jane. Her beloved sister would not advise her to remain in a loveless, accidental marriage, she was sure, and she felt in need of someone who would see her point of view.

  ‘I believe I might,’ said Elizabeth. ‘I will not make a hasty decision but I will think about it and if I feel the same way tomorrow, I will write to my aunt and make sure it will be convenient for her to receive me.’

  ‘Very well. For now, I suggest we say no more about it. I am s
ure you would rather think of something else.’

  ‘I would indeed.’

  Charlotte left the room and Elizabeth sat down at the pianoforte, where she soothed herself by playing some of her favourite melodies.

  If she had known what was taking place in Colonel Fitzwilliam’s mind, she would have been less content.

  In the sitting room at Rosings, Colonel Fitzwilliam was just emerging from an interview with Lady Catherine. He had gone to her room in order to give his cousin and Miss Elizabeth time to talk over their difficulties, but he had also gone there with an idea forming at the back of his mind, because if Mr Darcy did not release himself from the marriage to Miss Elizabeth, then Miss Anne de Bourgh would be free. There were no other claimants for her hand, and her poor health made it impossible for her to go much into society. He was a suitable candidate by birth, being the son of an earl. The only way in which he was unsuitable was in the matter of a fortune. He had nothing to offer Anne in terms of land or money. Indeed, as the younger son of an earl he had expensive tastes and no fortune to supply them. But as Anne was the heiress of Rosings, and would therefore have her own magnificent home, and as she was a considerable heiress, then she did not need such things.

  This was not the way society viewed things. Society held that people with money should marry other people with money, and that those with land should marry others with land. But, taken all in all, he was confident that, if Mr Darcy’s marriage was not annulled, then his own suit would prosper.

  He had not had this thought in mind when he had sent the groom to fetch the Rev Mr Pike and he had never intended for the misunderstanding to take place. He had sent a clear message that the Rev Mr Pike was needed to conduct a marriage rehearsal between Mr Darcy and Miss Elizabeth Bennet. It was the fault of the groom - a willing but not very intelligent young man – that the message had not been properly delivered. And so the Rev Mr Pike had thought he was officiating at a real wedding.

  When the mistake had been discovered, Colonel Fitzwilliam had at first berated himself for not writing a note, so that such a misunderstanding could never have occurred. But later, he had begun to think differently.

  He had always known that Mr Darcy was not in love with Miss Anne. He had accepted that Darcy and Anne would marry nevertheless. Such marriages were not uncommon.

  But ever since Mr Darcy had returned from Hertfordshire at Christmas time, Colonel Fitzwilliam had suspected that Mr Darcy had actually been on the brink of falling in love. Mr Darcy’s behaviour was such as to suggest it, and in a few, unguarded moments, Mr Darcy had almost said as much. He had begun several sentences that he had not finished, and they mostly revolved around the possibility of marrying someone beneath him. One or two of them had mentioned fine eyes, and the attraction of a refreshing honesty. The name Miss E . . . had slipped from between his lips, leading Colonel Fitzwilliam to wonder if a Miss Emma Someone had caught his cousin’s fancy. But when Colonel Fitzwilliam had learnt from his aunt that Miss Elizabeth Bennet was to stay with the Collinses, he had been very interested to meet the lady, for Miss E . . . might not be Miss Emma at all. She might be Miss Elizabeth.

  He had not been in her company for long before he had become convinced that she was Mr Darcy’s mysterious lady. It was not just her situation in life, which was beneath that of Mr Darcy, or the fact that she was from Hertfordshire, or that she was named Elizabeth, although those things certainly helped. It was the way his cousin looked at her.

  He had never seen that look on his cousin’s face before. It was a look of unwilling admiration, of uncontrollable attraction; and it was a look of something softer, too. It was a look of love. But his cousin was stubborn, and in the normal course of events it might have taken Mr Darcy months to give in to his attraction. Now, with the marriage, things had come to a head.

  Would Mr Darcy seek an annulment? Or would he give in to his feelings and accept the marriage? And how would Miss Elizabeth react? She had a strong and determined nature. Would she insist on an annulment?

  Colonel Fitzwilliam did not have the answer to these questions. But if he could say anything to discourage his cousin from dissolving the marriage then he would do it. Not only would it help Mr Darcy retain his true desire – even if he was too stubborn to see for the moment that marriage to Miss Elizabeth was what he truly wanted – but it would help Colonel Fitzwilliam, for marriage to Miss Anne de Bourgh would provide him with a large income which would enable him to pursue his expensive habits. It would also provide him with a wife he liked, for he and Anne had always been friends. And, if it came to pass, he would work to make sure that Anne was happy. She had always liked him, and she was not frightened of him, as she was frightened of Mr Darcy, for Anne did not have the spirit to stand up to him, or the will to tease him.

  All in all, it would be a good thing all round if the marriage was left to stand, thought Colonel Fitzwilliam.

  But what would actually happen . . . that remained to be seen.

  Chapter Eight

  Mr Darcy was thoughtful for the rest of the day as he considered how best to address his problems and begin his wooing of Elizabeth. The easiest and most pressing matter was to set things right between Elizabeth’s sister, Miss Jane Bennet, and his own friend, Mr Bingley. He had separated them in good faith, believing he was saving his friend from making a costly mistake. But since that time he had come to think his actions had been interference and to regret them, even before Miss Elizabeth had abused him for it. His friend, Mr Bingley, had not been happy since Christmas and Mr Darcy knew he must take action. He retired to the small sitting room, where a writing desk was set beneath the window. He had an hour before he dressed for dinner, and that was enough. The curtains were already drawn as, being so early in the year, it was dark by five o’clock. There was a bright fire in the grate. There was plenty of light from the many-branched candelabras set on tables and on the mantelpiece, and as he sat down at the writing desk he found everything he needed. Paper, quills, sand for blotting, sealing wax and everything else necessary was arranged before him.

  He pulled a sheet of paper towards him, then took up a quill and dipped it in the ink. The words flowed easily. He told Mr Bingley that he had been mistaken when he had thought Miss Jane Bennet was not attached to him; that new information had come to light and that he now had good reason to believe that Miss Jane Bennet was in love with him. He admitted Miss Bennet had been in London, and that he had kept this information a secret with the best intentions, but he now saw his actions as unwarrantable interference and he sincerely apologised for them. He ended by advising his friend to call upon Miss Bennet, who was currently staying with her aunt and uncle in Gracechurch Street.

  He signed the letter with a flourish, sanded it, folded it, addressed it and then sealed it.

  He threw down his quill and sat back, feeling much lighter than he had done for some time. He had set matters right with his friend. He only hoped it would remove some of Miss Elizabeth’s objections to him, but he knew there were other objections and he was less certain what he should do about them.

  It was not until after dinner, as he sat over the port with Colonel Fitzwilliam when Lady Catherine had withdrawn, that he broached the subject.

  ‘So,’ said Colonel Fitzwilliam with satisfaction. ‘You have decided to try and win Miss Elizabeth. I am glad of it. She is just the wife for you.’

  Mr Darcy lifted his eyebrows.

  ‘I am surprised you have an opinion on the matter,’ he said, as he toyed with his glass of port.

  ‘Come, Darcy, I have known you since you were a child. You can hide nothing from me. You were half in love with Miss Elizabeth when you returned from Hertfordshire, were you not?’

  ‘Yes,’ Mr Darcy admitted. ‘I admired her immensely, but I recognised the danger of the attraction and so I suppressed it. I forced myself not to speak her and I followed Bingley to London so that I would not have to see her again. But I could not forget her. I tried. In fact, my decision to marry Anne w
as influenced by my desire to put Miss Elizabeth out of reach. But it did no good. It seems I am fated to love Miss Elizabeth Bennet and nothing I can do will prevent that.’

  ‘And do you want to prevent it?’ asked Colonel Fitzwilliam.

  A smile played about Mr Darcy’s lips. In the candlelight he looked softer, younger than he did in the harsh light of day. He turned the glass in his hands and the light caught the ruby liquid, reflecting some of that colour onto Mr Darcy’s face. It gave his complexion a warm glow.

  ‘No,’ he admitted. ‘I do not.’ The he put the glass down on the table and looked at his cousin. ‘But my wishes are only half the story. Elizabeth does not want to be married to me. She has made her feelings plain. She thinks me rude, arrogant, conceited – all the things I took care she should think, when I wanted to repulse her.’

  ‘Those things can easily be corrected by a change in manner,’ said Colonel Fitzwilliam.

  ‘Yes, they can. But other things cannot be so easily corrected. She has formed the opinion that I treated George Wickham badly; that I deprived him of the living my father left him and that Wickham’s life has been ruined by me.’

  Colonel Fitzwilliam sat forward with a snap.

  ‘Where can she have come by such a preposterous idea?’ he asked.

  Mr Darcy gave him a meaningful look.

  ‘You do not mean that she knows George Wickham? How would a young lady from Miss Elizabeth’s station in life ever meet him?’

  ‘He decided to join the militia, and by chance he has friends who are billeted in Miss Elizabeth’s home neighbourhood. She heard the story from his own lips, and, knowing no better, she believed him.’

  Colonel Fitzwilliam shook his head in bewilderment.

  ‘Is there no end to Wickham’s affrontery?’ he asked.

  ‘Apparently not,’ said Mr Darcy.

  He picked up his glass and finished his port, then set it down on the table again.