Darcy and Elizabeth What If? Collection 3

by Jennifer Lang

  ‘Perhaps I am,’ he said. ‘Miss Bennet.’ He stopped and turned towards her, then he sank down on to one knee.

  ‘Have you dropped something?’ asked Elizabeth innocently. ‘Let me help you to look for it.’

  He felt suddenly nervous. This was harder than he thought. But he took her hands and she looked at him in surprise.

  ‘I have sunk to one knee for a reason,’ he said. ‘Miss Elizabeth Bennet, will you marry me?’

  ‘Marry you?’ she asked incredulously.

  This was not the reaction he had hoped for, but it was better than her reaction to his last proposal. Then, she had said, “I have never desired your good opinion, and you have certainly bestowed it most unwillingly,” and her voice had trembled with emotion: not the emotion he had hoped for – love, but, instead, barely concealed disgust.

  Now, there was no disgust in her voice, but there was no love there either. In fact, the emotion that rang most clearly in her voice was surprise.

  ‘Yes,’ he said.

  ‘But you are joking, surely?’ she asked. ‘We hardly know each other.’

  ‘I can assure you I am not joking. I would not trifle with a respectable young woman’s feelings in this way, nor would I humble myself for any other reason.’

  ‘Oh! I am sorry. Of course you would not,’ she said penitently. ‘Please, Mr Darcy, do get up.’

  His heart fell.

  ‘Does this mean you reject me?’ he asked.

  ‘I am very grateful to you,’ she said, remembering her manners and falling back on conventional forms. ‘I am sensible of the honour you do me in asking me to be your wife, but I cannot accept.’

  Before, he had been angry when she had rejected him. He had spoken rash, hasty words. But now he was calm. He had been rejected before, and this time it was not such a shock. But his spirits sank as he feared that Elizabeth Bennet would never be his wife. She would never grace Pemberley with her presence. And it left him feeling hollow.

  Nevertheless, he took it like a man and a gentleman. He rose to his feet and knocked the gravel from the knees of his breeches with his cane.

  ‘I am sorry to have inconvenienced you,’ he said.

  She shook her head, and he loved the way it set her small ringlets dancing. There was a frown between her brows but it was not a bad-tempered or a bad-natured frown, it was instead a sign that she was trying to understand what had just happened.

  ‘You have not inconvenienced me at all. But you have taken me by surprise, I must confess. I never knew your thoughts were tending in that direction. We hardly know each other, after all.’

  ‘Is that your only reason for rejecting me?’ he asked.

  She shook her head slowly and said, ‘No. I must confess it is not. You have done a great deal of harm to someone close to me and I find it hard to forgive.’

  ‘If I have erred, then give me a chance to put things right.’

  ‘Do you mean that?’ she asked.

  ‘I do.’ He offered her his arm and said, ‘If you will do me the courtesy of walking with me, perhaps I can do away with some of your reasons for refusing me.’

  ‘You do not mean . . . you cannot mean . . . you still value my good opinion?’ she asked hesitantly.

  ‘I do mean it.’

  She nodded and said, ‘Very well.’

  She took his arm and he loved the feel of her hand, and the weight of her as she leaned on him slightly. He caught a little of her fragrance and it lifted his spirits. It seemed to belong with the fresh spring day, with its early blossom and its dancing daffodils, when all the world seemed full of promise.

  If only that promise could be fulfilled!

  They walked on together.

  I was sure my rejection of you would wound your pride, and I was also sure you would lose your good opinion of me,’ she said. ‘And your good opinion, once lost, is lost forever.’

  He winced as she reminded him of his own words. Had he really been so pompous and so sure of himself? Yes, he had. But he was a different person now.

  ‘Perhaps I am not as intractable as I used to think,’ he said.

  ‘You are changing?’ she asked, glancing sideways at him.

  ‘Yes, I believe I am. Do you not believe it is possible for people to change?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, I think it is,’ she said. ‘I used to think you were puffed up with pride and conceit, but now I am not so sure.’

  ‘It seems we both have a lot to learn about each other.’

  ‘Yes, we do.’

  They walked on in silence for a while. The only sound was of Elizabeth’s long skirt swishing as she walked, and Mr Darcy’s firm tread. On either side of them, the smooth green lawns stretched away as far as the eye could see and underneath the chestnut trees there were deer, some sitting and some standing.

  ‘You said I have harmed someone,’ he said.

  ‘Yes.’ She bit her lip and said no more.

  ‘Will you not confide in me?’ he asked, as he slowed his long stride to her shorter step.

  ‘I am not sure,’ she said slowly. ‘It is not my secret to tell.’

  ‘Will you allow me to hazard a guess?’ he asked.

  He looked at her and she nodded. The movement caught the sun, which brightened her cheek and gave a soft glow to her complexion.

  ‘Is it about your sister and my friend?’ he asked.

  ‘How did you know?’ she asked.

  ‘Because I have lately come to think I was wrong to separate them.’

  ‘So you admit it,’ she said, and there was a note of reproof in her voice. ‘You did deliberately separate them.’

  ‘Yes, I did. I watched your sister closely and I could see no sign of particular attachment on her part. I saw that my friend was becoming very fond of her, and that if he stayed in the neighbourhood his feelings would probably develop.’

  ‘And so you took him away, because you did not think my sister good enough for him,’ said Elizabeth, ‘exposing her to ridicule, and Mr Bingley to censure.’

  ‘That was not my intention,’ he said. ‘I genuinely believed your sister to be indifferent and I did not want my friend to be hurt.’

  ‘Can you deny that her lack of fortune influenced your opinion on her feelings?’ Elizabeth challenged him. She stopped and turned to face him, dropping his arm as she did so.

  He saw a spark of anger in her eyes and it showed him just how much she loved her sister.

  He took a deep breath and said with total honesty, ‘No. I cannot deny it. But her lack of fortune only influenced me, it did not persuade me entirely. Nor did it lessen my desire to protect my friend from the pain I thought would come to him if he married her and then found out that she did not – could not – love him.’

  He stood silently as her eyes searched his face.

  And then the anger left her and she said, ‘I believe you.’

  She took his arm again and they walked on along the path

  ‘Am I to understand, from what you have said, that your sister does in fact have genuine feelings for him?’ he asked.

  Elizabeth nodded. ‘Yes, she does. So much so that it almost broke her heart when he left. My aunt kindly invited her to London for a change of scene. She knew she would not be able to see him there but she hoped to maintain her friendship with his sisters. But they added to her misery by not replying to her letters, and then by pretending they had never received them. My sister is so good that she believed their lies, and so she called on them, but they were out. When they did, at last, return her call, they did it in such a rude manner that she realised all friendship was at an end.’

  He winced to think of the lack of courtesy – indeed, the downright rudeness – that had been offered to Miss Jane Bennet.

  ‘That was not well done of them,’ he said. He added silently, Or me. Because he knew that he had behaved equally badly by hiding her presence in London from Mr Bingley. ‘But matters can soon be put right. I will let my friend know that he should go back to Netherfi
eld when your sister returns from London.’

  ‘If Jane could be made happy, that would be something indeed,’ said Elizabeth.

  The happiness and gratitude in her voice warmed his heart. It might not be love – not yet – but it was a start.

  They turned their steps towards the lake. It was of a good size and it was surrounded by the gravel path, beyond which lay a shrubbery. The yellow forsythia was in cheerful bloom.

  ‘Do you think Lady Catherine would mind if I picked some of the forsythia?’ Elizabeth asked.

  Mr Darcy bowed and said, ‘Allow me.’

  He stepped across the muddy border with one long stride and rested his foot on a stone as he picked the long stems of delicate yellow blossoms, then presented them to Elizabeth. She smiled at him, such a sunny smile, that he was well rewarded for his effort.

  They continued on their way, their harmony restored.

  Mr Darcy was tempted to continue thus, basking in Elizabeth’s approval, but he knew there were other matters which must be addressed if he was to turn her present, temporary, goodwill into something more permanent.

  ‘Is there anything else that prevented you accepting my hand, other than the fact we do not know each other very well?’ he asked.

  He felt the drop in temperature as a cloud went over the sun.

  ‘Yes, there is,’ said Elizabeth. ‘You used a certain gentleman very cruelly. You deprived him of a valuable living and thus blighted his future prospects in a way he will suffer from all his life.’

  He remembered his earlier outburst, when she had spoken to him of Wickham at his disastrous first proposal, and his words ran through his head: You take an eager interest in that gentleman’s concerns. He was tempted to say them again. But he suppressed them, as he suppressed the jealousy that occasioned them. It was true, he was jealous of Wickham, but he must not show it, if he hoped to win Elizabeth. And she was a prize worth winning.

  He knew he must tread carefully and he had rehearsed what he intended to say when the subject of Mr Wickham arose.

  ‘Mr Wickham was wild in his youth and unsuited to the church. He himself did not want to go into that profession. And so he accepted three thousand pounds instead of the living.’

  ‘Three thousand pounds!’ said Elizabeth in surprise. ‘That is a very large sum. I knew nothing of this.’

  She became pensive, and he could see she was finding it difficult to reconcile her new information with her admiration of Mr Wickham.

  ‘Even so,’ she said, rallying. ‘If he has outgrown his wild youth, could you not give him the living? He seems well suited to the church now, and although three thousand pounds is a great deal of money, it will not last him a lifetime, whereas the living would provide for him for ever.’

  ‘I am afraid there is worse. I am not at liberty to divulge any names, but perhaps I can say this without causing injury to any innocent parties: Mr Wickham attempted to elope with a young woman, against the wishes of her family.’

  ‘Elope!’

  Elizabeth sounded shocked, and Mr Darcy was sure it was not only because the affair itself was shocking. He knew that Mr Wickham had been paying court to Elizabeth and she would not like to think that Wickham could switch his affections so easily.

  ‘Still, if there was love in the case,’ she said.

  He could tell it had cost her an effort to say it. For any young woman to realise the young man who had been paying court to her had, at some previous date, been ready to elope with another woman, was not easy. But Elizabeth had risen above petty jealousy and he admired her for it. She was proving herself more and more lovable in his eyes.

  ‘I am afraid there was no love,’ he said. ‘The young woman was an heiress.’

  ‘A gentleman might fall in love with an heiress, as well as a poor woman, I suppose,’ she said, attempting humour.

  Again he admired her for it. Although her own feelings must be wounded, she was not breaking down, she was behaving with great dignity.

  ‘He might. But I do not think that any gentleman would elope with a fifteen year old girl.’

  ‘Fifteen!’ exclaimed Elizabeth. ‘Oh, but this cannot be true.’

  ‘I have upset you, and I am sorry for it, but it is true nonetheless. My cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, will confirm it.’ He said, more gently, ‘I have many faults, Miss Bennet, but I am not, I think, an unjust man. I hope Mr Wickham will make a success of the military life but I am afraid my help must be at an end.’

  ‘You have given me much to think about, Mr Darcy,’ she said, as they found themselves close to the path which led to the parsonage. ‘I believe I must leave you here. I do not like to leave Mrs Collins alone too long.’

  ‘Would you like me to escort you back to the parsonage?’ he asked.

  ‘No. I would rather go alone. But thank you.’

  ‘For disturbing your peace of mind?’ he asked, and his voice showed his sorrow at having done so.

  ‘For having been honest with me,’ she said.

  She gave him a brief smile which was worth all the humiliations he had endured and then she walked away from him, back towards the parsonage.

  He watched her go, with the forsythia still in her arms, and he did not stop watching her until she entered the parsonage. Then he turned and walked back to Rosings.

  I hope I have done the right thing, he thought under his breath.

  Only time will tell.

  Chapter Seven

  Elizabeth had much to ponder as she went back into the parsonage.

  How I wish Jane were here, she thought, as she removed her outdoor clothes and then arranged the forsythia in a vase. I need someone to talk to.

  She was reluctant to tell Charlotte, for she knew that Charlotte would think she was wrong to have refused Mr Darcy. And so she kept her thoughts to herself.

  She went into the sitting-room. Charlotte was sitting over by the window, making the most of the natural light as she sewed a button onto one of Mr Collins’s shirts. It was a quiet, domestic scene. Charlotte was looking contented and, in a new green muslin gown, she was looking almost pretty.

  We are all different, thought Elizabeth. Charlotte accepted Mr Collins and I was horrified, but it was the right decision for Charlotte. I have never known her so contented. She has her home and her poultry, she has the parishioners to help and Lady Catherine to mollify. She has a life that agrees with her.

  She thought of her sister, and smiled to think how delighted Jane would be when Mr Bingley returned to Netherfield, for Jane, too, knew what would make her happy.

  And Mr Wickham? Would he be happy now that he was about to embark upon a career in the militia . . . and pursuing Miss King, if the gossip from Meryton could be believed?

  Elizabeth found she did not care. She had not been sure, at first, if she should believe Mr Darcy, but she had no reason to doubt him, especially as he had offered his cousin as a witness to the truth of things. And when she thought of Mr Wickham, she realised she had reason to doubt his version of events. He had spoken to her, a stranger, about personal matters almost as soon as he met her. He had said he would never speak ill of Mr Darcy, and had then done so. He had said he was not afraid of meeting Mr Darcy, and he had then avoided him. All of these things pointed out his deceitful nature, which was hidden under easy manners and a charming smile.

  What a fool he must have thought me! Elizabeth told herself, vexed to think how easily she had been taken in.

  And what of Mr Darcy? He was a perplexing man. He was proud and superior and he did not trouble to make himself agreeable to strangers, but beneath his haughty exterior there lurked a man of feeling and sense.

  And a man who was willing to learn.

  She felt a warmth steal over her as she thought, He is willing to learn, in order to please me.

  To have the power of influencing such a man was something indeed. And she had already used her influence for good. Only that morning, when she awoke, she had been thinking ill of Mr Darcy as she remembered h
er sister’s unhappiness, but he had changed his ways and now meant to give his blessing to her sister’s union with Mr Bingley. Elizabeth had no doubt that an engagement would soon be announced.

  Mr Darcy had not mended his ways where Mr Wickham was concerned, but then, he had not needed to because he had been right all along. It was Elizabeth who had to rearrange her thoughts.

  She realised, ruefully, I have had to learn from him. I believed everything Mr Wickham said. How foolish I have been!

  But Mr Darcy had not berated her for it. He had, instead, explained matters to her in a quiet and gentlemanlike manner.

  He once said that his good opinion, once lost, is lost forever, thought Elizabeth. I am lucky I did not lose his good opinion by my defence of Mr Wickham.

  A warm feeling again stole over her as she thought, I do not believe I could ever lose his good opinion. I believe he loves me!

  The thought brought a smile to her face.

  ‘You should not be doing that, Lizzy. You are a guest here,’ said Charlotte, as Elizabeth finished mending the pillow case and took a petticoat out of the sewing basket.

  ‘I hope I am not too grand to help a friend,’ said Elizabeth.

  ‘Thank you. I want to finish all the mending as quickly as possible so that I can turn my attention to making a new gown. Mr Collins is certain there will be a wedding here soon and, as the clergyman’s wife, I want to look my best.’

  ‘Oh? Who is about to marry?’ asked Elizabeth with interest.

  ‘Miss Anne de Bourgh. She has been promised to Mr Darcy since her cradle and as he has brought forward his visit this year, it seems as though he is about to make the engagement official.’

  Elizabeth bit her tongue as Charlotte continued to talk of Mr Darcy’s marriage to Miss de Bourgh as a settled thing. But at last she could bear it no longer. She put down her sewing and said, ‘Mr Darcy will never marry Anne de Bourgh.’

  Charlotte looked at her in surprise.

  ‘Why not?’ Charlotte asked.

  ‘Because, only this morning, Mr Darcy proposed to me,’ said Elizabeth.