‘Mr Wickham is nothing to me,’ she reassured the maid. ‘He was an entertaining companion but nothing more.’
‘Oh, I’m that glad, Miss,’ said the maid. ‘I didn’t like to think as how you’d been disappointed.’
‘But with whom has he eloped?’
Even as she spoke, she suddenly guessed.
The maid confirmed her suspicions. ‘Miss Bent.’
So that was why he had not kept his appointment the previous afternoon! He had not been visiting a sick friend at all, he had been courting Miss Bent!
Miss Bent’s words came back to her: It is wonderful to have someone who is interested in me and cares about me and listens to me. We spent all the afternoon together and all my problems seem to be melting away. What a different complexion those words took on now! The friend was not another young woman, as Elizabeth had supposed. The friend was Mr Wickham. Tomorrow you shall know all, Miss Bent had said. Little had Elizabeth guessed that she was talking about an elopement!
‘I don’t feel sorry for her,’ said the maid. ‘I think, Good luck to her! He’s a handsome fellow and she holds the purse strings so I dare say he’ll be good to her. The one I feel sorry for is Mr Darcy.’
Mr Darcy.
Elizabeth’s heart leapt.
Mr Darcy was now free to marry elsewhere.
But then her heart sank.
He would never marry her. His father would not allow it.
Mr Darcy was in his bedchamber that afternoon, changing out of his riding boots. He was looking forward to seeing Elizabeth again. It had been very clever of Georgiana to invite Elizabeth to tea that afternoon, since the Duchess of Livsy had also been invited, and his parents would not make a scene in front of their honoured guest. The Duchess was a friend of his grandfather, the Earl, and she was one of the most noble women in the land.
He hoped his sister and Miss Bennet became friends, then at least he would not be denied her company entirely.
He had just changed out of his boots when, through the window, he saw the Duchess’s carriage arriving. He went downstairs to find the Duchess in the hall, with her little dog in her arms, being welcomed by his father.
Mr Darcy looked at his father with a mixture of affection and exasperation. He thought how well he loved that noble profile and how he would do almost anything to make his father happy, and make his father proud of him. Almost anything. Because, glancing through the glass door leading to the drawing-room, he saw that Elizabeth had already arrived, and he knew that he could never marry anyone else. He had to marry Elizabeth. There were seemingly insurmountable obstacles in the way, but he must find a way to surmount them, or be miserable for the rest of his life.
As his eyes lingered on Elizabeth, his expression softened. Every line of her face was dear to him. Every lock of her hair was precious. He could not give her up.
The Duchess, following his gaze, looked at Elizabeth thoughtfully.
Mr Darcy’s father turned to look, too, but he only frowned.
‘Be thankful you have no children,’ he said to the Duchess testily. ‘My son is not content with the heiress I have found for him. He wants to marry a penniless nobody instead. As if a country squire’s daughter could ever be the mistress of Pemberley! No one would ever visit the estate again.’
‘I would,’ said the Duchess, shifting her little dog higher in her arms. ‘And not only that, I would persuade my good friend the Prince of Wales to visit, too. In fact, I would persuade him to attend the wedding.’
Mr Darcy and his father looked at her in astonishment.
‘But Miss Bent-—’ protested Mr Darcy’s father.
‘Miss Bent ran away with George Wickham hours ago,’ said the Duchess. ‘It is all over the town. I am surprised you have not heard about it yet – although I suppose no one has been brave enough to tell you. You look astonished, and yet I cannot think why. George Wickham has been hanging out for an heiress for years and Miss Bent wanted to escape from her overbearing parents and an overbearing future husband. She and Wickham should deal well together!’
Mr Darcy looked even more astonished.
‘I am not overbearing —’ he began.
‘Oh, yes, you are, Fitzwilliam, I have known you since you were a little boy and you’re proud and haughty and you like to have your own way. But you have met your match in Miss Bennet. Anyone who can tame Napoleon can tame you.’ She did not explain this remark, but she chuckled to herself and tickled her little dog under the chin. ‘Besides, you are in love with her, and that makes all the difference. Well, go on, boy, what are you waiting for?’
Mr Darcy needed no more urging. He was already half way towards the drawing-room, striding towards Elizabeth. As soon as greetings had been exchanged he said, ‘Miss Bennet, I wonder if you would care to stroll in the garden? There are some very fine flowers I am sure you would like to see.’
‘Yes, indeed, Miss Bennet, allow us to show them to you,’ said Lady Anne, rising from her chair.
‘No need for that,’ said the Duchess, following Mr Darcy into the room. ‘I am in need of company and you must entertain me, Lady Anne. Let the young people look around the garden together.’
Now it was Lady Anne’s turn to look astonished, but she sat down again nevertheless.
‘Miss Bennet?’ said Mr Darcy, offering her his arm.
Elizabeth rose and took his arm.
Her aunt’s maid, who had accompanied her in the role of chaperon, rose from her chair.
The Duchess turned to her imperiously and said, ‘I left my gloves in the hall. Go and fetch them for me.’
‘I will do that,’ said the Duchess’s companion brightly.
‘You will do nothing of the sort,’ said the Duchess firmly. ‘I need you to take care of Napoleon.’
And so saying, she passed the little dog over to her companion.
Mr Darcy, meanwhile, led Elizabeth out into the garden.
‘I am not sure if you have heard the news,’ he said, as he and Elizabeth strolled along a pleasant gravel path towards the back of the garden, ‘but Miss Bent has eloped with Mr Wickham.’
‘Yes. I had heard,’ she replied.
‘That means I will not be able to marry her,’ he remarked with a smile.
‘I rather suspected as much,’ said Elizabeth with a sparkle in her eye. ‘When did you hear the news?’
‘Just now, from the Duchess. You seem to be a favourite of hers, though I cannot think why. Can you shed any light on the matter?’
She told him about Napoleon’s escapade, and the help she had rendered the Duchess.
‘Ah! So that is what she meant,’ said Mr Darcy.
‘About what?’
‘Oh, just a remark she made about Napoleon.’ They stopped at the end of the garden and admired a splendid rhododendron. Then Mr Darcy continued. ‘Now that Mr Wickham and Miss Bent have gone from our lives, I have something to ask you, Elizabeth. Will you do me the honour, the very great honour of becoming my wife?’
He sank to one knee as he said it.
‘Will your father not object?’ she asked him seriously.
‘Not any more. The Duchess approves the match, and that is enough to remove his doubts. You will be welcomed by my family, as well as adored by myself.’
She looked deeply into this eyes.
‘Then yes. Indeed I will,’ she said.
His whole being radiated his happiness. He rose to his feet and pulled her close, then kissed her on the lips.
Elizabeth gave a sigh of great happiness when at last they parted.
‘I will have to speak to your father and ask his permission,’ said Mr Darcy, looking at Elizabeth tenderly. ‘I am tempted to ride to Hertfordshire to see him at once, but I do not want to leave your side.’
‘We are returning there tomorrow. Will you not join us?’ she asked.
‘Thank you. That would give me very great pleasure. In the meantime, I will escort you back to your lodgings after tea and assure your uncle of my intenti
ons.’
‘You will be very welcome there. My aunt and uncle like you very much – even though you are not a steward!’ she teased him.
He laughed.
‘I deserved that. I was wrong to deceive you, but it has all turned out well in the end.’
‘Yes,’ said Elizabeth. ‘It has.’
He kissed her again.
‘We had better go in,’ he said at last. ‘I am sure my family will like to hear the news.’
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows at this.
‘You doubt me, but my sister loves you already, and my parents will come to love you in time, though none of them will ever love you as well as I do. It was a lucky day for me when you came to Pemberley.’
‘It was a lucky day for both of us,’ she said.
He took her arm in his and they walked back towards the house.
‘We will have many more lucky days,’ he said, ‘and many more balls at Pemberley.’
Mr Darcy’s Waterloo
Darcy and Elizabeth What If? #9
JENNIFER LANG
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter One
Miss Elizabeth Bennet was walking round the garden at Longbourn with her sister, Jane, one fine day in May. They were cutting flowers for the house and they were selecting the best blooms, snipping their stems carefully and then laying them in the wicker basket.
Elizabeth was just cutting the final bloom when she saw her sister, Lydia, flying up the path to the house. Lydia’s skirts were streaming out around her and her bonnet was almost falling from her head, so that she had to hold it on with her hand.
Elizabeth and Jane turned to look at each other in surprise.
‘Mamma! Mamma!’ called Lydia in wild delight as she ran up the stone steps and disappeared into the house.
The front door banged shut behind her.
Elizabeth and Jane wondered what could have caused such excitement in their sister, especially as Lydia had been cast down only that morning because the militia were leaving Meryton.
They turned their steps towards the house and followed their sister inside, albeit at a more sedate pace. They were just in time to see her disappearing into the drawing-room.
‘Mamma! Mamma! What do you think? Mrs Forster has asked me to go with her to Brussels as her very special friend. Colonel Forster is leaving the militia and he is joining the regular army, and he is going to Brussels to fight that odious Napoleon. Harriet is going with him and I have been invited to go with her. Only think of it! All the best people in Europe will be there. I will be mixing with dukes and earls and all kinds of people of rank. Lord, what parties and balls we will have. I will probably marry a prince!’
In her mind’s eye, Lydia was already seated in a ballroom in Brussels. Glittering chandeliers were shedding their light from hundreds of candles, and gilded mirrors were reflecting a dozen images of her in a scandalous ballgown, while handsome officers fought for the honour of fetching her an ice. They were challenging each other to duels and declaring their undying love for her and going down on one knee in order to propose to her in quite the most delightful way. In the centre of this most satisfying scene, she was teasing them all, first praising one officer and then another, so they were all mad with jealousy and wild with love for her and several of them were expiring on the spot.
‘My dear Lydia, how wonderful!’ cried Mrs Bennet in maternal glee. ‘Oh, what a time you will have! Clever, clever Lydia, to be invited to such a place!’
She rose from her seat on the sofa and clasped her hands together, quite as delighted as Lydia. Her matronly face beamed with pleasure and matched Lydia’s own broad smile. She had quite as many daydreams in her head as Lydia, and she was sure her youngest daughter would be the belle of the Brussels balls.
There was a strong love between Mrs Bennet and her youngest daughter. They were both frivolous, silly women and they drove their family to distraction with their gossip and folly. But Mrs Bennet was good hearted for all that, and she truly loved her daughters.
‘I do not see why I should not go to Brussels, too,’ said Kitty crossly. ‘I might not be Mrs Forster’s particular friend but I have just as much right to be asked as you, Lydia. In fact, I have more right, since I am older than you.’
Lydia said she had not; Kitty said she had; and an argument ensued. It only ended when Mrs Bennet said, ‘Now, Kitty, once your sister is married to a prince she will be able to put you into the way of other great men. There will be plenty of dukes and earls to go around. I am sure I will see you all married before the year is out.’
‘Lord, yes, Mamma, I will find husbands for all my sisters!’ Lydia turned to Jane and said, ‘Even you, Jane, though you are positively an old maid.’
Elizabeth and Jane exchanged glances. Elizabeth rolled her eyes and even good, sweet-natured Jane was forced to smile, for she was not yet three-and-twenty. But then her smile became bitter sweet.
Elizabeth understood at once. Jane had been almost engaged before Christmas, to a jolly, nice-natured gentleman by the name of Mr Bingley. He had rented a neighbouring property, Netherfield Park, and he had fallen in love with Jane. He would have married her, too, if not for the interference of his friend, Mr Darcy.
Elizabeth felt her emotions begin to churn as she thought of Mr Darcy, for she had a difficult and complicated history with him. She had met him first when he had been staying with Mr Bingley at Netherfield Park. Unlike his friend, he had not been friendly and welcoming. He had been cold, arrogant and disdainful of the feelings of others. When he had seen that Mr Bingley was falling in love with Jane, he had parted the two young people, and Elizabeth could not forgive him for it.
No, not even though he had subsequently proposed to her . . .
Elizabeth’s thoughts spiralled back to Easter, when she had been staying with her friend, Charlotte Collins. To her surprise, Mr Darcy had also been in the neighbourhood, staying at Rosings Park. She had been forced into his company and she had made an effort to be polite, for Charlotte’s sake, and so she managed to abide his company.
But then, one day, to her immense surprise, he had called on her at the parsonage and asked her to marry him! Mr Darcy, who had never taken any notice of her except to look down on her!
She had, despite her dislike, felt some natural gratitude for such a compliment from a rich and powerful man, but this had soon been overcome by the memory of the hurt he had caused her beloved Jane, and by his rudeness. He had insulted Elizabeth roundly while proposing, saying that she was beneath him. He had complained about her silly mother, her indolent father and her flirty sisters. She had rejected him angrily and they had parted on very bad terms.
The following morning, however, he had put a letter into her hands, explaining his conduct, and while it did not excuse him entirely, it had made Elizabeth see things in a different light. His letter explained that he had not intended to upset Jane by keeping Mr Bingley away from Meryton. He had watched Jane closely and decided she was not in love with Mr Bingley. He had thought she liked him, but he had not thought her feelings ran deep. He had thought that Jane would soon forget Mr Bingley, once Mr Bingley left the neighbourhood, and that she would find someone else to fall in love with.
That was not the only thing he had explained in the letter. He had explained about Mr Wickham, too.
Elizabeth felt uncomfortable. She had not been very wise in her liking for Mr Wickham and she did not want to think about it. And so she was glad when the fifth Miss Bennet – Mary – entered the room. Mary was as foolish as Lydia, though in a diffe
rent way. She was not silly and flighty and obsessed with officers, but she was dull and prosy and always trying to tell everyone else what to do.
Her entrance distracted Elizabeth’s thoughts, though, and turned them away from the arrogant Mr Darcy and the villainous Mr Wickham, for which Elizabeth was grateful.
Lydia turned to Mary at once and demanded her congratulations.
‘La! Mary! What do you think? I am going to Brussels with Harriet Forster. What fun we shall have! All the armies of Europe are going to Brussels and the city will be filled with all the most fashionable people and all the greatest officers. Officers! Only think, Mamma, hundreds and hundreds of them, all in red coats!’
‘In point of fact, the coats of foreign soldiers are not always red. The armies of Russia—’ began Mary.
‘Pooh! What do you know about it?’ asked Lydia, interrupting Mary in her usual rude fashion.
‘I have read a great deal —’
‘Oh! Reading! Books!’ said Lydia with a laugh. ‘What are books to officers?’
‘Well said, Lydia,’ remarked her mother approvingly. ‘You have such a way with words and you see right to the heart of the matter. What are books to officers indeed? You are a clever girl, Lydia. You are a credit to your family with your sound common sense.’
Elizabeth shook her head in exasperation. But she knew better than to argue with her mother, since her mother would never see sense.
Kitty was still aggrieved that she had not been asked, and so she was determined to spoil it for Lydia if possible. A rivalry existed between the two girls, despite their friendship, and they were always either laughing and teasing together, or arguing and fighting.
‘The officers will not have any time to attend to you,’ Kitty said. ‘They will be too busy fighting. I wouldn’t be you for a kingdom. As soon as Napoleon starts marching again you will probably be killed.’
Mrs Bennet’s excitement abated a little.
Darcy and Elizabeth What If? Collection 3 Page 19
