Darcy looked at it sceptically. “Where are we going now?”
“I am going to distract Mr. and Mrs. Collins while you grovel to your future bride.”
“No, there must be another choice.”
“There is no other way to secure her reputation, and as you just pointed out, you need someone to challenge you. You will have to work out your personal differences, but a lifetime must surely be enough for that. She simply needs to marry you, not like you.”
Darcy pushed his hand out of the way and stood. “Thank you for the sweet words of inspiration and hope. You make it sound so easy.” Inside, Darcy knew a loveless marriage to Elizabeth would be a personal hell on Earth. And one he deserved entirely.
“She is too honourable to destroy the happiness of her entire family,” Richard said gently. “Nor is she unjust.”
Months ago, at Netherfield, Darcy and Elizabeth had debated their failings. He had admitted to implacable resentment, and she had rightfully said it was a dreadful fault. He prayed she could be so forgiving in such an instance. With a small kernel of hope building in his chest, Darcy continued to the Parsonage.
*****
“Mr. Darcy, Colonel Fitzwilliam” Mrs. Collins greeted them in with a tight smile.
Darcy had immediately noticed her husband’s absence. “Where is Mr. Collins?” Darcy asked.
Mrs. Collins frowned. “He has gone up to console Lady Catherine. Let us not misunderstand what this visit is about. Eliza is in the garden.”
Darcy began walking to the door, but Mrs. Collins called out, “She needs time.”
Darcy mutely nodded his head. Richard’s words about a lifetime being long enough to sort out how to live together resonated in his mind. It had not occurred to him before her rejection how little he really understood Elizabeth or knew her. Was she as stubborn as he? Did she loathe admitting when she was wrong? Would they ever move on from the opinions she had first formed of him?
He found her at the edge of the garden, facing the woods as far away from Rosings as one could manage. She heard his approach and startled. What an extraordinary mixture Elizabeth was! She had been as brave as a lioness last night and now seemed as timid as a frightened deer.
“Miss Bennet,” he said with all the gentleness he could put into the formal address.
She did not turn to face him or acknowledge his presence in any way. Uncertain how to proceed, he stood silently just behind her shoulder. With any luck, she would ease the conversation as she often did when he was awkward and brooding. He lightly drummed his fingers on his thigh to calm his nerves.
Just when he was about to give in and find something to say, Elizabeth turned and faced him. “Do you have anything to say, Mr. Darcy?”
“Would that I could say anything that would erase my actions or bring peace to your mind,” he twisted his hat in his hands. “I promise you will be well cared for—”
Elizabeth’s face crumpled. “My—my—sisters,” she whispered.
“As my wife,” Darcy continued.
Her immediate look of relief as he finished his declaration proved that she found it entirely possible to believe he would not offer his hand again. Did she think he was so dishonourable? Or had she imagined him too proud to humble himself twice in two days?
“Thank you, Mr. Darcy,” she said as she attempted to keep tears from falling.
Her red and swollen eyes had already proved he caused her to shed many others. He could never forgive himself for causing her such distress. What a selfish beast he had been! And she had the graciousness to thank him. As much as he hated himself, he fell even more in love with her at this moment. What other lady could meet this situation with such composure? He had no doubt she was furious at him from the way she held herself, but she seemed to know there was no use in dramatics.
“If it pleases you, I will drive to Longbourn tomorrow and meet with your father.” He offered it up as a peace offering.
“Now, you ask what will please me?” She had turned away again but now spun to face him. “And you voluntarily wish to see my family? Oh, but it’s not voluntary, is it?” She cocked her head to one side and shot daggers at him from her eyes.
His nerves were too raw to let the intended insult pass. “I did offer to connect myself with them just last night. You have made no secret of your hatred of me. I did not think you could forget it already as you seemed to have delighted in recalling every other word and action you perceived as my faults.”
“I will not question how destroying my reputation is on equal terms with the faults I laid at your door last night.” Her chin quivered, but she maintained her sure-footed stance and boldly met his eyes.
If she had said it in anger, it would have been easier to bear. Instead, Darcy perceived she meant more than she said. “Are you under the impression that I intentionally orchestrated all of this?”
“I can think of no other explanation,” Elizabeth shook her head. “I refused your offer of marriage, and you have freely admitted to your resentment.”
“You think I would compromise you to destroy you or force your hand? I suppose you think I arranged for there to be witnesses as well?”
Elizabeth turned white and then red. “Someone saw?”
“Why else would there be rumours?”
“Rumours seldom begin in truth,” she murmured and lowered her head.
“In this fantasy you have conjured, I commanded others to spread gossip? If it did not rely on someone viewing it, then why would I bother to kiss you?”
Elizabeth blushed and stammered. “I...I...I have been unable to make any sense of that at all.”
Darcy took a step closer to Elizabeth and did not miss the sudden and rapid rise and fall of her chest. He terrified her. He took a step back, and she calmed. “I cannot make you think better of me, but as you have agreed to marry me, I would say it may be best to put your suspicions and prejudices aside. Believe me when I say that kissing you was as unplanned as falling in love with you had been and has served to be just as destructive. Neither can be forgotten soon enough for our mutual happiness. When we say our vows, we will each promise things we cannot keep, but I do mean this vow. I will never touch you again without your request nor will I mistreat you in public or private.”
Elizabeth met his eyes and seemed to scrutinise him to assess his sincerity. Hearing the door close and looking over his shoulder he saw Richard and Mrs. Collins walking towards them.
Darcy gave Elizabeth a formal bow. “I will take my leave now.”
“No, I am certain Darcy will insist that you all take his coach! It will very comfortably seat you ladies, and Mr. Collins can ride with Brooks,” Richard said as they drew near. “It will be no inconvenience for Darcy and me to rent horses.”
Darcy was not entirely sure what he overheard, but it seemed designed to vex him.
“Is everything well?” Mrs. Collins asked.
“I...I am well,” Elizabeth dissembled. “Did I hear correctly? You intend to return to Hertfordshire tomorrow?”
Mrs. Collins looked away from Elizabeth’s face. “Mr. Collins and I have discussed the matter, and we thought it best to return you and Maria ourselves. I am certain Lady Catherine will approve of the visit.”
Darcy instantly understood the pretence. Mrs. Collins wished to escape from Lady Catherine’s displeasure because Elizabeth agreed to marry him. “I would be pleased for you to take the coach,” he said.
“Thank you, Mr. Darcy,” she quickly said. After a pointed glare from Mrs. Collins, Elizabeth echoed it.
“Well, we must begin packing then, Eliza.” She returned to the house.
“Of course, do excuse us,” Richard said and bowed before leaving.
“I look forward to announcing our betrothal to your family,” Darcy said wishing Elizabeth offered her hand for him to bow over. As he met her eyes before leaving, his heart sank to see no hint of forgiveness in her eyes.
He tried to not be discouraged by the lack of improvement wi
th Elizabeth. He would attempt to court her during their engagement and after their marriage. For now, he managed to avoid his aunt, who had not left her rooms since Anne’s declaration over breakfast. The journey to Longbourn on a rented horse and with Mr. Collins in tow would test his nerves, but Darcy knew he would need to retain his composure to meet with Mr. Bennet and the vulgarity of his wife and youngest daughters.
Chapter Nine
Darcy’s hopes for a productive engagement period collapsed once he reached Longbourn. Mrs. Bennet behaved as he had guessed she would. First, she could not contain her confusion at their arrival and questioned the absence of Bingley. Darcy sought an audience with Mr. Bennet, who refused to believe anything of the scenario Darcy laid out without consulting Elizabeth. Darcy did not know what father and daughter discussed for above half an hour, but both clearly saw the marriage as a last resort.
Despite Mrs. Bennet’s shrieking effusions and the rude comments from the younger daughters upon the announcement, Darcy sighed in relief. Could the ends justify the means? He and Elizabeth would wed. They would share a lifetime to come closer.
Mrs. Bennet demanded a special license and began squiring Elizabeth around the area, not caring a whit for any of the gossip which followed. Thankfully, Mr. Collins soon returned to his parish when Lady Catherine discovered the source of the rumours in Hunsford to be none other than Lady Montague-Churchill. Lady Catherine arranged for Collins to be present at her friend’s next visit and for the topic to be hellfire and brimstone for gossipmongers. Still, the damage was done. Perhaps it might have been concealed if Darcy had not acted so promptly and arrived at Longbourn. Once again, his attempts at managing Society and acting honourably ruined things.
Mr. Bennet refused to even speak to Darcy. Distinctly unwelcome at Longbourn, he spent most of the engagement in London arranging Elizabeth’s settlement. Regardless of the source of their union, he would begrudge her nothing. Mrs. Darcy deserved the very best.
On one of his brief visits to the area, Elizabeth broached a topic he had not expected from her.
“Several officers dined here last night,” Elizabeth began. “The Militia leaves today, and it was the final opportunity to speak with our friends.”
Darcy tensed as they walked in Longbourn’s garden, fearing a particular name would be mentioned. He did not know if she ever read his letter.
“Mr. Wickham approached me, and we had a strange conversation.”
Darcy said nothing.
“He confessed he was shocked to hear of our engagement. He had believed you would wed your cousin.”
“I was never engaged to Anne,” Darcy rushed to say.
Elizabeth nodded. “I had wondered but guessed if you were then you would not have proposed to me.”
The fact that she allowed a possibility of it being the opposite spoke volumes as to her estimation of his honour.
“He was surprised to hear that I had often been in your company and asked if you had come alone.”
Wickham must have been fishing for information regarding Georgiana. Darcy remained silent.
“When I mentioned the Colonel, Wickham observed the differences in your manners and disposition. He…he hinted at there being some reason for that. I do not know why he found it so fascinating,” Elizabeth said while glancing at Darcy. “The son of an earl and an officer in the army would surely have different education and experiences than a gentleman’s son.”
A gentleman’s son, Darcy thought. Except he was not. Additionally, he noted she did not call him a gentleman. Belatedly, he realized Elizabeth stared at him expectantly. “What do you wish to say?”
“Will you do nothing for him?” She asked and walked ahead to put distance between them. “You once used to be close friends.”
“Elizabeth,” Darcy commanded, and she turned to face him. “You will never ask about this again. You will never speak his name again.”
“But—”
She ceased speaking and fear flooded her eyes as he stepped forward and met her in two long strides. His heart pounded, and he could feel the heat on his face. His voice sounded rough and savage. “I mean it. I will not tolerate discussion in this quarter. He leaves today, and I pray we will never hear of him again. He is no friend to you.”
Elizabeth said nothing, and tears gathered in her eyes.
“Do you understand?” he asked. He did not yell but recognised his tone as one spoken by a displeased George Darcy. He used the tone that always struck terror in his heart, and he cared not. The matter was too important. If she had not read his letter by now, she never would. He was too angry to explain it all to her; all he wanted was her promise. “Do I have your agreement?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
Darcy nodded and stormed off, not trusting himself to say or do anything else. He longed to take Elizabeth in his arms and erase the stricken look on her face. Words failed him. She had not read his letter and deserved to know, but he could not speak more. An embrace or tenderness from him would be the last thing she desired.
He left that afternoon for London and did not return until the day of the wedding. Bingley arrived with him and offered the use of Netherfield. Darcy knew Elizabeth had wondered if he would confess all to his friend. He had put it off, expecting Bingley’s anger. Instead, the man could not believe his good fortune.
“Miss Bennet may not still care for you,” Darcy cautioned.
“If she loved me once, I can earn it back,” Bingley said with a grin.
Despite Darcy’s tale, his friend seemed euphoric.
“I can never repay you for your loyalty and kindness,” Bingley had said.
Darcy shook his head. He could not say if Jane still loved Bingley, but he saw the signs of heartbreak. At times, the distant look in her eyes was reminiscent of his own. He had been far too officious in imagining he saved Bingley from anything. He would have done much better by paying closer attention to Elizabeth’s reaction around him rather than assuming she felt as he did. What a tangled mess of it he made.
Still, when Elizabeth approached him at the altar in Longbourn’s church on May Day, Darcy could not prevent the feeling of utter rightness settling into his heart. She vowed to love him, and whether or not she meant it at the time, he promised himself to never give up and to cherish her always.
As the carriage rolled away, Darcy caught the worried looks from Mr. Bennet and Elizabeth’s London relatives—a couple Darcy had enjoyed meeting and believed an acquaintance he would keep—and the tears trickling down Elizabeth’s face. This would be an uphill battle, but a lifetime would be enough. No one would ever love another the way he loved Elizabeth and when he had, at last, earned the position he coveted in her heart, he would speak it all. Until then, he would wait and watch and love her without words every day.
*****
Towards the end of July, Elizabeth readied Pemberley for Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner to visit. The newlyweds had spent several weeks in London after the wedding and remained until the end of June when Bingley and Jane married. Elizabeth spent most mornings with her aunt, while Darcy spent time at his club. They joined in the afternoon for dinner, sometimes with his small circle of friends, and avoided the general circuit of London as the Season waned. Additionally, Darcy had sensed Elizabeth unready to travel all the way to Derbyshire, and he invited her aunt and uncle to dine with them as often as possible to make her feel at ease. He genuinely liked them and asked them to visit over the summer.
Arriving at Pemberley during the height of summer, Elizabeth immediately loved the grounds. She spent as much time as she could out of doors, walking and examining the gardens. It had seemed a lifetime ago that they discussed the manicured gardens of Rosings, but Elizabeth praised him for leaving Pemberley in its more natural state.
While their first few months of marriage had remained strained, with most of their time spent apart, Pemberley breathed fresh air into them. They fell into a routine of separate mornings, then an afternoon walk and tea together befor
e dinner when Georgiana would join them for the evening.
Slowly but surely, Elizabeth’s anger had faded. She talked with Darcy more and asked to sit with him in the library sometimes. Darcy dare not ask her about the change in her feelings lest he scare them away.
The night before Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner’s arrival, Darcy thought they turned a corner. Perhaps it was the extra glass of wine he drank at dinner, but he believed he saw Elizabeth look at him fondly during the meal. When Georgiana declared herself tired and asked for a supper tray to be sent to her room, instead of doting on the girl she had taken underwing as a sister, Elizabeth requested Darcy to sit and turn pages for her.
Her sweet voice always pulled on his heart and more than once their hands grazed when he reached to turn a page for her. They had other times of this gradual touching, but he had always erred on the side of caution since his compromising kiss. This night, however, he felt intoxicated by the feeling of her at his side, in their home, and desiring his company. At the end of the song, Darcy raised her hand to his lips.
“Pemberley has never looked more beautiful, my darling,” he said as she blushed. “Do you enjoy your refreshed rooms?”
“Yes, very much,” she murmured as she stared at her hand still in his.
That she did not seek to remove it made Darcy want to shout in victory. “Then I am pleased. Your happiness is paramount to me.” He rubbed his thumb over her soft skin and heard a soft gasp.
“You are so good to me,” Elizabeth said and ducked her head away.
Darcy could see her cheeks burning crimson and the vice grip he had felt around his heart for months eased. She saw something good in him. The clock chimed the time, and Darcy did not want to relinquish the closeness they had found this night.
“Would you care for a short stroll in the garden? I do not think you have seen it at night time.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Elizabeth said in a breathy tone.
Darcy escorted her through the garden as she leaned on his arm. He covered her hand with his free one, stroking the smooth skin and feeling shivers run through Elizabeth’s frame from time to time. Coming under an arbour with roses climbing over it, their heavy fragrance filling the air, he pulled her to his chest, and she lowered her head against his heart. His arms tightened around her, and they sighed at the same time, drawing a slow smile from his lips.
The Secrets of Pemberley: A Pride and Prejudice Variation (Jane Austen Reimaginings Book 9) Page 7
