Charlotte was stunned. It was a full minute before she could speak.
‘Mr Darcy proposed to you?’ she asked incredulously.
‘Yes.’
‘But . . . when . . . where . . . ?’
‘In the park. I was taking my morning walk as usual when he joined me.’
‘But are you sure you are not mistaken?’ asked Charlotte. ‘He meant, perhaps, that he was to marry Miss de Bourgh?’
‘Charlotte,’ said Elizabeth, putting a hand on her friend’s arm. ‘He went down on one knee and asked me to marry him.’
Charlotte again said nothing for a minute and then her face broke into a smile and she said, ‘I am happy for you Elizabeth. Your mother will be in raptures! What pin money you will have. Only, I ask that you will not forget me. Mr Darcy has many valuable livings in his gift and Mr Collins would like advancement.’
‘You go too fast,’ said Elizabeth. ‘I only said that Mr Darcy asked me to marry him. I did not say that I accepted him.’
‘Surely even you could not be so lost to all sense of your own advantage that you would refuse him?’ asked Charlotte.
Elizabeth felt a gulf open up between her and Charlotte once again. They would always think differently on the subjects of love and marriage. But Elizabeth was a guest in Charlotte’s house and so she did not reply angrily, as she was tempted to do. Instead she took a moment to calm herself and then said, ‘We think differently on the subject of advantages, Charlotte. You think of carriages and pin money. I think of love.’
‘I can think of only one reason for Mr Darcy proposing to you, and that is because he loves you,’ said Charlotte. ‘He can have no other inducement. And so the bar to your union must be that you do not love him.’
‘How can I? I hardly know him,’ said Elizabeth.
‘Ah!’ said Charlotte, with a knowing smile, ‘So you do not despair of falling in love with him.’
Elizabeth was taken aback.
‘I did not mean that,’ she said.
‘I think you did, you just did not know it,’ said Charlotte.
‘That is too deep for me,’ said Elizabeth in some embarrassment.
‘I think not,’ said Charlotte. ‘Admit it, Lizzy, you like him.’
‘I do not know what makes you say that,’ said Elizabeth evasively.
‘I say it because I have seen you with him. You enjoy teasing him. You like his fine mind and his strong character. You find him attractive —’
‘Charlotte!’
‘I am not blind, Lizzy. I have seen the way your eyes widen when you look at him. And who can blame you? He is a very handsome man.’
Elizabeth blushed.
‘And yet you refused him,’ said Charlotte, shaking her head in disbelief.
‘How could I accept him, when he had ruined the happiness of my beloved sister?’ said Elizabeth in a rush, speaking in her own defence. ‘I could never love a man who had harmed Jane in such a way.’ Her face softened. ‘And yet —’
‘And yet?’ queried Charlotte.
‘And yet, when I threw it in his face he apologised and said he had not known that Jane cared for his friend. And now he has withdrawn his objections to the match,’ she said with a smile. ‘So I expect to see Jane and Mr Bingley engaged very shortly.’
Charlotte took up her sewing again.
‘Then you have changed your mind about Mr Darcy and you do not hate him?’ asked Charlotte.
‘No, I do not hate him,’ said Elizabeth softly.
She thought of his kindness to her sister and his willingness to humble himself before her – he, Mr Darcy, who was one of the proudest men in England!
‘Then love might follow,’ said Charlotte. ‘And if it does, and he proposes again . . . ’
Elizabeth felt a cold stab at her heart.
‘He will not propose again,’ she said.
As she realised the truth of those words, she realised what she had lost. She had lost a man of great integrity and worth, a man who was admired and esteemed by those who knew him well, a man who was desirable in so many ways. And she had refused him.
She had been blind.
It was true, she had been misinformed about Mr Wickham and she had based much of her dislike on that mistake. But even before that she had been too willing to set herself against Mr Darcy, because he had insulted her at the Meryton assembly.
Yes, that was where the mischief had begun. When she had overheard that unfortunate remark she had been determined not to like him, partly out of self-defence and partly because she liked having someone to tease. And Mr Darcy, with his superior nature, was so easy to tease. He was a perfect foil for her wit and she had exercised that wit in full measure.
So, pleased with the preference of Mr Wickham and offended by Mr Darcy’s neglect, she had encouraged her feelings for the rogue and discouraged her feelings for the man of worth.
And look where it had led her. It had led her to reject a man she was only just beginning to realise was a man she could have esteemed and respected and – yes, perhaps – loved, if only her vanity had not overcome her reason and set her against him.
The sewing fell from her hands and lay unheeded in her lap. The needle remained clasped in her nerveless fingers.
She thought in anguish, What have I done?
Chapter Eight
Mr Darcy returned to Rosings, well pleased with the way the morning had gone. It was true that Elizabeth had rejected him, but he had been prepared for that. And yet she had not despised him, as she had done when he had made his first proposal to her.
How he cringed when he now thought of it. She had been right to accuse him of ungentlemanly behaviour. He had been rude indeed.
But, of course, Elizabeth did not know that, because, for her, that day had never been.
He went up the steps of Rosings and in to the house.
‘Your friend, Mr Bingley, called when you were out,’ said Lady Catherine.
She was sitting in the drawing-room with her wide, panniered skirt arranged impressively across the sofa. Her bejewelled fingers lay in her lap.
Miss Anne de Bourgh sat quietly on a chair nearby and, standing in front of the fireplace, was Mr Collins.
‘I am sorry to have missed him,’ said Mr Darcy.
He thought of all that had happened on the previous days, connected with Mr Bingley, and was glad that today’s visit had passed without complication.
‘I invited him to stay for luncheon and suggested he sing for us, but he was promised to his friend and could not stay. He only called in to deliver this painting from Georgiana,’ Lady Catherine continued, gesturing towards the painting, which had been unwrapped. ‘It is quite charming.’
‘Marvellous!’ murmured Mr Collins, clasping his hands together rapturously.
Lady Catherine nodded her approval.
Mr Darcy walked over to the by-now familiar painting and examined it closely. It was very well done indeed and he took a delight in his sister’s skill.
‘It will hang in the dining-room,’ said Lady Catherine.
‘A most excellent choice,’ said Mr Collins with a smile and a bow.
‘Mr Collins, you will stay for luncheon,’ said Lady Catherine.
‘Oh!
Mr Collins sounded startled and, for a moment, Mr Darcy wondered if the comical clergyman would decline the invitation. But it was the purpose of Mr Collins’s life to please Lady Catherine, and after only the slightest hesitation he bowed and smiled and murmured words of gratitude. ‘So kind . . . had not looked for such condescension . . . esteemed patroness . . . unworthy of such nobility . . . honoured . . . grateful . . . ’
Lady Catherine was pleased and took his arm as she rose from the sofa.
Mr Collins looked as if life could offer him no greater privilege than to escort Lady Catherine de Bourgh and he was a ridiculous mixture of pride and humility as he almost pranced through the hall and into the dining-room, with Lady Catherine on his arm.
‘Anne is looking pa
le,’ said Lady Catherine, as they took their seats at table. ‘You must take her out in the phaeton this afternoon, Darcy.’
Mr Darcy did not take kindly to being ordered about and he was about to raise some objection when Lady Catherine continued, ‘Your wife and guest will go with them, Mr Collins, to entertain Miss de Bourgh. I would go myself but there are some parishioners in the village who need guidance. You and I will go to the village, Mr Collins, and I will tell them what they must do. I cannot have them deciding their own affairs, for they will inevitably make the wrong decision.’
At the thought of driving Elizabeth round the park in the phaeton, Mr Darcy could not help smiling. It was a beautiful day, although it was only February, and a cheerful sun shone from the cold sky.
His cousin, Anne, would not want to sit on the box with him. She would sit in the main body of the carriage with a blanket over her knee, and Mrs Collins would sit there with her. But he had high hopes of encouraging Elizabeth, with her intrepid nature, to sit on the box next to him. Perhaps he might even persuade her to take the reins.
Once lunch was over, the phaeton was brought round and before long Mr Darcy was driving Miss de Bourgh down to the parsonage. Lady Catherine and Mr Collins followed in the carriage.
Once at the parsonage, Mr Collins alighted from the carriage to tell Mrs Collins and Miss Bennet about the honour arranged for them by Lady Catherine.
Mr Darcy could not help feeling some doubt as Mr Collins disappeared from view.
Mr Darcy knew that Elizabeth had a strong character and he knew she would not like being ordered about by Lady Catherine. She might conceivably refuse to join the party. He was on tenterhooks until at last Mr Collins emerged from the parsonage, followed by Mrs Collins and Elizabeth.
He jumped lightly down from the box and assisted Mrs Collins into the carriage, while Mr Collins rejoined Lady Catherine and her carriage set off for the village.
Once Mrs Collins was settled comfortable next to Miss de Bourgh, Mr Darcy turned to Elizabeth.
‘Would you like to join your friend in the carriage or would you care to see the countryside from the vantage point of the box?’
‘I would like that very much indeed,’ said Elizabeth.
Mrs Collins gave a knowing look and Mr Darcy said, ‘That is, if Mrs Collins – as your hostess - has no objections?’
‘None at all,’ said Mrs Collins.
The proprieties having been thus satisfied, Mr Darcy gave Elizabeth his hand as she climbed onto the seat at the front of the phaeton and, in one long stride, he climbed up beside her.
‘Allow me,’ he said, as he arranged a rug over her knees, for the day was cold.
As he did so, he could not help noticing how enchanting she looked. She was wearing a pale blue velvet bonnet with a matching pelisse and cloak. Her hands were encased in white gloves and they settled themselves elegantly on the dark blue blanket.
Her face was glowing. There was a healthy colour in her cheeks and her eyes were sparkling. Her dark hair was thick and lustrous, and delicious curls framed her ears and nestled in the nape of her neck.
Mr Darcy picked up the reins and the phaeton set off at a gentle pace through the park.
‘Have you been out in the phaeton before?’ asked Mr Darcy. ‘I know you have been at Rosings for some time, and arrived before I did.’
‘No, in fact I have never been in a phaeton before,’ said Elizabeth.
‘And how do you find it?’ he asked.
‘I like it,’ she said. ‘There is a very good view from up here on the box.’
‘I thought you would appreciate it,’ he said.
The palings of the parsonage garden rolled past them and then there was nothing on either side of the sandy road but wide green fields, with horse chestnut trees providing interesting shapes against the sky.
‘Do you ride, Miss Bennet?’ he asked.
‘Not if I can help it!’ she said with a laugh.
‘Oh? Do you not enjoy it?’
‘No. I confess I do not. I prefer to walk.’
‘Have you always felt that way?’ he asked.
He was interested to find out everything he could about her, for she fascinated him.
‘Yes. I believe I have.’
‘Is there any reason for it?’ he asked. ‘Were you thrown from a horse? Or did you have some other kind of accident?’
‘No. Never. But it involves such an argument. Papa needs the horses on the home farm and he is loath to part with them for simple exercise or visiting. Then Mama becomes involved and before long the house is in uproar, with all my sisters expressing their views. I expect you would think it very vulgar,’ she said to him saucily.
But beneath her sauciness there was something else. Something questioning.
She is testing me, he thought. She wants to know what I think of her family. Or, rather, whether I would be able to tolerate them.
In fact, he had strong views on her family and he had expressed them in no uncertain terms at his first proposal. He had told her outright that her mother was vulgar, her father indolent and her younger sisters common flirts. How he hated to think of it! And how glad he was that Elizabeth could not think of it as, for her, it had never happened!
‘You are not the only person with . . . unusual . . . relatives,’ he said.
She laughed at that.
‘No indeed. I have never met anyone like Lady Catherine before. She is an individual!’
‘She is indeed,’ said Mr Darcy, with a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
The pretty little phaeton rolled on until it came to a crossroads.
Mr Darcy said to Elizabeth, ‘Would you like to go left to the chapel or right to the lake?’
‘Right, to the lake.’
‘Very well.’
He turned the horse’s head and the phaeton did a neat turn and then bowled along the sandy road towards the lake.
Then he said, without looking at her, ‘Do you think you will ever like to visit the chapel?’
A blush sprang up on her cheek and he waited with bated breath for her answer.
‘Perhaps. One day,’ she said.
He gave an inward smile. Then there was hope for him.
But he was not a callow youth. He had proposed in haste but he did not intend to rush his fences a second time. He knew he only had until the end of the day to woo her, but it had occurred to him over luncheon that, although he had only February 13th in which to try and win her, he had endless February 13ths. And a plan was already starting to form in his mind.
But, for now, he wanted nothing more than to make the most of his time with Elizabeth.
‘Would you like to take the ribbons?’ he asked.
He held the reins out to her as he spoke.
‘I?’ she asked, startled.
‘Yes. Why not? Many women drive.’
‘A challenge!’ she said with a laugh.
Her breath frosted in front of her in the most delightful manner, drawing attention to her adorable mouth, and he longed to kiss her, but he restrained himself. It would be unforgiveable to take such a liberty. But perhaps, in the future, if things went well . . .
Elizabeth took the reins from his hands and held them lightly in her own.
He adjusted her hands so that they held the resins more securely and then, with his own strong hands over hers, helped her to guide the horses.
Once she grew more adept, he removed his hands.
He would have liked to keep his hands over hers for the entire afternoon, but he had already done as much as was consistent with propriety and he would not compromise her for any reason. He respected her too much for that.
‘And how do you like driving?’ he asked her after a little while. ‘Do you like it better than riding?’
‘Yes, I do. Much better,’ she said.
‘Then you must drive every day whilst you are here. I am sure it can be arranged.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, giving him a dazzling smile.
‘I would like that.’
They came at last to the lake.
Miss Anne de Bourgh decided she would like to take a walk and they all joined her, strolling for a short while beside the lake and leading the horses.
But it was too cold for Anne to walk for long and they were soon driving back to the house.
Elizabeth’s arms grew tired, for she was not used to holding them at such an angle, and she gave the reins back to Mr Darcy.
He drove them back to the parsonage and helped Elizabeth down from the box. As she descended, she caught her foot in the wheel and as it loosened she fell against him. He caught her and held her, revelling in the feel of her in his arms. She was soft and delicate and enchanting, and she smelt wonderful.
Just for a moment she clung to him and a look passed between them that gave him hope for the future.
Then he set her on her feet and he opened the door for Mrs Collins.
Mrs Collins stepped out of the phaeton and joined Elizabeth by the parsonage gate.
‘Mama commissioned me to invite you to Rosings for dinner,’ said Miss Anne de Bourgh, as Mr Darcy climbed back on to the box.
‘Thank you,’ said Mrs Collins. ‘We would be delighted to accept.’
Mr Darcy watched Elizabeth’s retreating figure as she walked up the path to the parsonage, then took up the reins and the phaeton set off back to Rosings.
Chapter Nine
‘He will propose again, I am sure of it,’ said Charlotte Collins, as she and Elizabeth went back indoors.
Elizabeth shook her head.
‘He has too much pride,’ she said.
But even so, she could not help hoping that Charlotte was right.
‘I never saw a man who was so much in love,’ said Charlotte, as she took off her bonnet and removed her cloak. She patted her hair in front of the cheval glass and pushed a curl back in place.
‘In love?’ queried Elizabeth, as her heart skipped a beat.
‘Yes, Lizzy. In love,’ said Charlotte, as they went into the sitting-room.
As Mr Collins was still out, the ladies settled themselves in the front room.
It was pleasanter than the other sitting-room at the back of the house, and Charlotte generally left it to the use of her husband, knowing that he would not make the effort to join her if she were in the less pleasant room.
Darcy and Elizabeth What If? Collection 3 Page 7
