Darcy and Elizabeth What If? Collection 3

by Jennifer Lang

  Charlotte was satisfied.

  ‘What changed things for you then?’ she asked.

  Elizabeth was silent. What could she say? She could not say, ‘Mr Darcy’s proposal changed things – both his proposals.’ So she said instead, ‘I have often met him in the park in the mornings and we have walked together, coming to know each other better as a result. There were some misunderstandings between us that we have overcome and I find him good company.’ She added mischievously, ‘And as you have already remarked, he is a very handsome man.’

  Charlotte looked around the withdrawing-room appreciatively, and said, ‘Not to mention a very rich one.’

  ‘None of this would mean anything without love,’ said Elizabeth.

  ‘No. But it would be a very desirable addition to love,’ said Charlotte practically.

  ‘Yes, it would,’ admitted Elizabeth.

  The two ladies finished tidying their hair and arranging their long, slender skirts. Elizabeth fluffed out the puffed sleeves of her gown and tidied the lace around the neckline, then she settled her shawl in the crook of her arm and declared herself ready to continue.

  ‘I wonder what Miss Darcy will be like,’ said Charlotte. ‘I am eager to see if she is really as haughty as Mr Wickham declared her to be.’

  ‘I think it is a mistake to believe everything Mr Wickham says,’ remarked Elizabeth.

  ‘Oh?’ asked Charlotte.

  ‘Let us just say, that I have found him out in some untruths, and it would not surprise me to find that Miss Darcy is utterly charming.’

  ‘We will soon know,’ said Charlotte.

  The two ladies went out into the hall and were shown into the drawing-room. It was a beautiful room of elegant proportions with a high ceiling and tall windows, framed by dramatic curtains. There was a gold paper on the walls and looking glasses ran down one side of it, reflecting the light from the windows, so that the whole room was light and airy.

  Georgiana Darcy was sitting with her companion on one of the sofas.

  Mr Darcy was standing by the white marble fireplace but as soon as the door opened he strode forward to welcome them into the room. His eyes smiled as his gaze fell on Elizabeth. She smiled in return, for there was something infectious in his good humour and she could not help being flattered by his obvious admiration.

  Then he stood aside and performed the introductions.

  Georgiana was tall and on a larger scale than Elizabeth, and although she was only just sixteen her appearance was womanly and graceful. She was less handsome than her brother but there was sense and good humour in her face, and her manners were unassuming and gentle. She wore a simple white muslin gown which suited her quiet demeanour, for nothing about her demanded attention. Far from being the very proud young lady Mr Wickham had declared her to be, she instead looked embarrassed.

  She had the kind of awkwardness which showed she was only just starting to act as her brother’s hostess, for although her reception of Elizabeth and Mrs Collins was very civil, she was clearly not comfortable.

  Elizabeth realised at once that she was shy. To put her at her ease, Elizabeth spoke some friendly words to her and she was rewarded by seeing Georgiana relax.

  What a trial it must be for her, thought Elizabeth kindly.

  As a member of the Darcy family, Georgiana’s behaviour would be scrutinised more than most and she would be expected, by society, to uphold the highest standards. Such expectations must place a burden on her, and therefore increase her awkwardness until she became used to her role as hostess.

  Elizabeth was glad to see that Mr Darcy, however, was looking at his sister encouragingly. Such evidence of brotherly affection did him good in Elizabeth’s eyes, for she loved her own sister dearly and so she could understand his feelings.

  From the grateful glance Georgiana gave her brother it was obvious she trusted him, and this was further evidence of their family affection, which Elizabeth admired.

  Far from the unfeeling man she had once thought Mr Darcy, he was capable of affection.

  Georgiana stood awkwardly for a moment, once she had welcomed her guests, but with a little prompting from her brother she invited her guests to sit down and then offered them tea.

  ‘How was your journey?’ she asked hesitantly.

  Elizabeth helped her with this unadventurous topic of conversation by giving details of their journey, with a humorous anecdote about a procession of cows crossing the road just before they entered London. Georgiana smiled, and Elizabeth was rewarded for her small pains by a grateful look from Mr Darcy.

  Miss Darcy ventured some other remark on the weather, which Elizabeth greeted with far more consideration than it deserved, for she knew what it had cost Georgiana to make it. She spoke of the weather in Kent, compared it to the weather in London and asked Georgiana how it compared to the weather in Derbyshire. Georgiana, glad of a question she could answer and thereby keep her part of the conversation going through her shyness, replied that she had not been to Pemberley for some weeks but that it had been very cold there, with snow on the ground.

  At that point the servants entered with cold meat, preserves and cakes as well as all the paraphernalia for tea. Georgiana’s companion murmured gentle advice as Georgiana made sure her guests were supplied with something to eat.

  Then Georgiana began to carefully pour out the tea.

  ‘Will you be going to Ramsgate again this summer?’ asked Charlotte, as Georgiana handed her a delicate china cup filled with tea.

  Elizabeth was pleased with Charlotte for introducing the topic, for it would allow Georgiana to tell them about her visit there the previous summer. Georgiana would therefore not have to think of a suitable topic of conversation for quite some time.

  But just as she was turning towards Charlotte with an approving glance, she was startled to see Georgiana blush bright red and the tea cup rattled in her hand.

  Mr Darcy dexterously took the cup from his sister and handed it to Charlotte.

  Elizabeth could not understand why Georgiana was so perturbed at the thought of Ramsgate, but she quickly changed the subject, saying, ‘I have never been to Ramsgate but I have been to Lyme. Have you been there?’

  Georgiana managed to shake her head.

  ‘It is well worth a visit. Perhaps your brother might take you one day. It is exhilarating to walk along the Cobb, although care must be taken in bad weather as the wind is very strong. Do you like to walk? I confess I find the exercise invigorating.’

  Georgiana nodded.

  ‘And do you like to go out in the phaeton? Your cousin Anne enjoys it very much.’

  ‘We have a phaeton at Pemberley,’ said Georgiana, who by now had brought herself back under control. ‘My brother often drives me round the park.’

  Georgiana turned her attention to the tea once more and supplied the rest of her guests with the refreshing beverage. Nothing was then heard for some time except the clink of spoons in saucers and forks on plates.

  When they had finished eating, Charlotte once again ventured on a new topic of conversation.

  ‘We met some friends of yours in the autumn,’ she said. ‘Mr Bingley rented Netherfield Park and his sister stayed with him. I believe you know Mr Bingley and his family?’

  ‘Yes, I do,’ said Georgiana.

  ‘We met another of your friends as well, Mr Wickham,’ said Charlotte.

  Again Miss Darcy blushed a fiery red.

  Elizabeth was alarmed and changed the subject quickly, praising the flower arrangements in the room and saying, ‘Do you arrange the flowers, Miss Darcy?’

  Georgiana’s companion filled the embarrassed silence, for Georgiana was still unable to speak, and said, ‘Miss Darcy arranges flowers very well. The arrangement at the end of the room is her work.’

  The safe subject of flower arranging was taken up and they all talked of it energetically. But as Elizabeth talked of flowers, her thoughts were running on less harmless matters, for a dreadful thought had just occurred t
o her.

  Could Miss Darcy be the heiress with whom Mr Wickham tried to elope? she thought in horror; for, from something he had said to her the previous autumn, she knew he had been in Ramsgate over the summer.

  If so, that would explain Mr Darcy’s hostility towards Mr Wickham – a hostility which had always seemed out of proportion to any small indiscretions Mr Wickham might have committed. And it would explain Georgiana’s crimson blushes.

  She glanced at Mr Darcy and his expression told her she had guessed the truth.

  How horrible it must have been for him to have met Mr Wickham again in Meryton. And how much worse to find out that Mr Wickham was universally liked, whereas he himself was despised.

  Elizabeth was ashamed to think that she had been one of those despising him.

  How wrong she had been.

  And how good he was to have forgiven her.

  A warm feeling stole over her. He was a much better man than she had ever realised.

  And he was in love with her.

  The warm feeling spread throughout her body and filled her with happiness.

  A silence had once more fallen over the room and Elizabeth said, ‘Will you play something for us, Miss Darcy?’

  ‘Yes, Georgiana, please do,’ said Mr Darcy, encouraging his sister.

  Georgiana rose shyly to her feet and went over to the pianoforte. She played a Mozart sonata and followed it with several other pieces, all expertly played with feeling as well as brilliance.

  Elizabeth found herself thinking how pleasant it would be to play duets with Georgiana in the beautiful drawing-room and arrange flowers for the house and organise balls and dinner parties and . . .

  She stopped herself there as her thoughts ran away with her, for she had been about to think how happy it would make her to live there with Mr Darcy.

  If she had accepted his proposal, then that future might have come to pass. But she did not even remember his proposal, save for its description in her letter.

  Even if she had accepted him, their marriage would never have come to pass, for he was doomed to live the same day over and over again.

  She could scarcely believe it. And yet she had the evidence of the letter to show her it was true.

  It was with lower spirits, therefore, that she passed the rest of the afternoon.

  At last it was time for them to leave.

  ‘Are you quite well?’ asked Mr Darcy, as he and Elizabeth left the drawing-room a little behind the others.

  ‘What makes you say that?’ she asked.

  ‘It is just that you have become very quiet.’

  He looked at her searchingly.

  ‘Perhaps I am a little tired,’ she said.

  That was hardly an answer to his question, she knew, but luckily he let it pass.

  Elizabeth and Charlotte went into the withdrawing-room to claim their cloaks and bonnets.

  ‘Miss Darcy is delightful,’ said Mrs Collins. ‘She is very shy and blushes sometimes for no reason, but that is just a sign of her youth. I am sure she will grow out of it. She is a credit to Mr Darcy.’

  Elizabeth was glad that Charlotte had put Georgiana’s blushes down to nothing more than her youth and inexperience. Elizabeth knew better, but she was determined never to speak of it. She would not care to embarrass Georgiana in any way.

  The Rosings party left the house and stepped into the carriage. Then they settled themselves down for the long journey back to Kent.

  It was late by the time they reached Hunsford parsonage but Mr Collins invited Mr Darcy inside. Elizabeth gave him a beseeching look and Mr Darcy, guessing what was in her mind, accepted Mr Collins’s offer of hospitality.

  Once indoors, Elizabeth went upstairs and hastily wrote an account of her day. Then she joined the others in the sitting-room.

  ‘And now I must go,’ said Mr Darcy, as Elizabeth entered the room.

  ‘I wonder if I might trouble you to put these letters in the post for me?’ asked Elizabeth, handing him a letter.

  Mr Collins looked shocked that a mere Miss Bennet should ask the magnificent Mr Darcy to perform such a task, but Mr Darcy bowed politely and said he would be delighted. He understood, of course, why she had given him two letters. One of them was the one she had written the previous day, telling of his proposal. And the other one, no doubt, told of their trip to London. It was the one way in which Elizabeth could remember – or, at least, know – what had happened to them on the days she was doomed to forget.

  He tucked the letters into his pocket and then he bid them all goodnight.

  Chapter Twelve

  Mr Darcy went out with both of Elizabeth’s letters in his pocket the following morning. He took his horse out for some exercise, because it was too early for him to meet Elizabeth yet. He half expected to meet Mr Bingley’s carriage on the way back to the house. As he went through the gates of Rosings Park, he called to the lodge keeper, ‘Has Mr Bingley arrived yet?’

  ‘No, Sir, I’ve not seen him this morning. I didn’t know he was expected again.’

  Mr Darcy brought his horse to a standstill.

  ‘Again?’ he asked, with his heart starting to beat more quickly.

  ‘After yesterday, Sir,’ said the lodge keeper.

  ‘Do you mean to tell me Mr Bingley was here yesterday?’ asked Mr Darcy.

  His excitement had communicated itself to his horse and the animal danced a step or two to the side.

  ‘Yes, Sir. I thought you knew,’ said the lodge keeper.

  ‘Yes. Of course,’ said Mr Darcy. ‘Tell me, have today’s newspapers arrived yet?’

  ‘Yes, Sir, they were sent up to the house as usual.’

  ‘Do you happen to know what was on the front page?’ asked Mr Darcy, finding it more and more difficult to contain his excitement.

  ‘Something about St Valentine’s Day, Sir,’ said the lodge keeper.

  Mr Darcy laughed for sheer joy.

  The lodge keeper, misunderstanding the reason for his laughter, joined in and said, ‘Yes, Sir, it’s ridiculous right enough. St Valentine’s Day! What do they want to put that on the front page of the papers for? That’s not news, is it, Sir?’

  ‘It is to me,’ said Mr Darcy.

  He rode away, leaving the lodge keeper scratching his head and mumbling about “never understanding gentle folk”.

  Mr Darcy rode round to the stables and left his horse in the care of the grooms, then went inside and took the stairs three at a time in his hurry to make himself presentable before going in search of Elizabeth.

  Not half an hour later he was striding through the park to her favourite walk, well dressed in his black tailcoat and cream breeches, with his greatcoat over them, flapping in the breeze.

  He caught sight of her and quickened his pace.

  If the day had moved on – which it had – then it could mean only one thing.

  She was in love with him.

  He went forward with confidence and she turned to greet him. She was looking bewitching in a sprigged muslin gown with a green pelisse and matching bonnet.

  He meant to go down on one knee. He meant to ask her if she remembered anything of the past few days. He meant to make a formal speech, but he was too much in love to do any of those things and he said, ‘Elizabeth, will you marry me?’

  It was from the heart, and her reply, too – swift in coming – was from the same place.

  She held out her hands to him and said, ‘Yes.’

  He took her hands and held them between his own, then he bent his head and kissed her.

  It was the most mesmerising, loving kiss and it went on for a very long time. It sealed their betrothal and created a bond which would never be broken.

  At last, when they could bear to part, Mr Darcy put out his hand to touch her cheek and he smiled with joy because now he had a right to do so.

  ‘Do you remember anything of the last few days?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I remember everything.’

  She t
urned her fine eyes towards him and the early morning light gave a bloom to her complexion which he found enchanting. His heart stood still because she was so lovely and so dear to him.

  She continued, ‘You told me once that there was a way to make the day move on, but you would not tell me what it was. How did you make it happen?’

  ‘I did not make it happen. You did,’ he said.

  ‘I did?’ she asked in surprise. ‘But how?’

  ‘By falling in love with me. That was the wish I made. I wished that there would never be another Valentine’s Day until you loved me.’

  She smiled and took his arm, and together they walked down the grove.

  ‘You see, after my first disastrous proposal, I wished that I would not have to endure Valentine’s Day without your love,’ he explained. ‘Once I had won your love, then Valentine’s Day could arrive.’

  ‘So you knew, this morning, that I loved you?’

  ‘Yes, I did.’

  ‘And that is why your proposal was so swift?’

  ‘Yes. Did it disappoint you? It was not the kind of proposal you deserve. I will go down on one knee if you wish.’

  ‘No,’ she said, looking at him with a smile of pure joy. ‘It was perfect.’

  He could not tear his eyes away from her. He wanted to spend the rest of his life looking at her and his heart swelled because he knew that he could.

  ‘I will need to go to Hertfordshire to ask your father’s permission,’ he said, ‘but then I hope you will name the day. Make it soon, Elizabeth.’

  ‘It can be as soon as you like. I do not need a big society wedding to make me happy. A simple service in the Meryton church with family and friends is all I ask.’

  ‘You shall have whatever you wish.’

  ‘There is one other thing,’ she said.

  ‘Name it.’

  ‘Do you think your aunt would part with the little cupid ornament?’

  His eyes crinkled with laughter.

  ‘I will ask her. It can be her wedding present to us. I will tell her I have taken a fancy to it.’

  ‘I would like to put it in pride of place in the drawing-room at Pemberley. Do you really think the cupids made magical things happen?’ she asked.