by Meg Osborne
“Or perhaps he is a dreadful human being who I am to be shackled to for all eternity, courtesy of Mama’s scheming.”
“He may not be the only gentleman at Rosings,” Jane mused. “Recall, Colonel Fitzwilliam has another cousin he might persuade to return with him.”
“So I must endure Mr Darcy’s displeasure as well as Mr Collins’ preening?” Lizzy fell back on the bed in despair. “I believe you are marrying the only decent man in all of England, Mary.” She eyed Jane. “Although I credit you that Mr Bingley is quite lovely and I have no doubt of you marrying him before the year is out. At least two of my sisters will be content in their matches, if I must be miserable.”
Jane’s eyes met Mary’s over Elizabeth’s head.
“We will leave you to rest, dear. This has been a very trying episode. Do not worry too much. All is not lost yet!”
As soon as the door was closed behind them, Jane reached for Mary’s arm.
“I have a possible solution, but it will not work without some assistance. If you succeed in getting Lizzy to Rosings, there is half a chance, if Mr Darcy goes too...”
Mary tilted her head to one side.
“You cannot mean Lizzy and...Mr Darcy?”
“Surely you have seen them together? She comes alive with someone to argue with, and he at least can hold his own, better than any other gentleman I have known. Might they not learn to be happy together - happier, at least, than poor Lizzy and Mr Collins?”
“Does she love him?”
Jane frowned.
“That, I do not know. I fancy of the two his feelings are stronger, but Lizzy might see the advantage in choosing to be happy with Mr Darcy rather than enduring a life with Mr Collins. And love may grow over time...” She nodded. “I think it is the best we can offer. Will you try, Mary?”
“I CALL IT A JOLLY GOOD show!” Mr Bingley saluted Richard with his brandy glass. “I very much approve of marriage, and think you and Miss Mary will make a delightfully happy couple.”
Richard laughed, and returned the toast with his own glass.
“You approve of marriage? Charles, you are practically wed already, although poor Miss Bennet must be wearily wondering if you will ever ask her.”
“Do you think so?” Anxiety flickered across Bingley’s face. “Oh...I had better ask her then. And soon.” He smiled, a little placated. “I will discuss it with Caroline tomorrow, for she is fond of Miss Bennet too and I am sure she will be eager to help me win her hand.”
Richard turned to Darcy, who was sitting in a chair in one corner of Bingley’s study and nursing his drink in moody silence. His heart sank. In spite of his own happiness, he could see his cousin was devastated by the news that Elizabeth would marry Mr Collins, although he had not said a word about it. Richard wished he had, so that he could encourage him somehow that Elizabeth’s own feelings were apparent in her distress at the development. She clearly did not care for Collins and had refused him once already. Richard very much doubted the marriage would ever take place, for, in spite of Mrs Bennet’s enthusiasm for the match he felt certain Elizabeth’s father was less enamoured. He had given his consent, indeed, but it was likely under duress and certainly not without reservation. Richard recalled the way Mr Bennet had taken his hand, congratulating him on his choice and welcoming him almost as a son. “If only each of my daughters might make such an easy match!” he had said, with a sad smile. It was only now that Richard understood to what he had been referring.
“I suppose I must continue with my arrangements to visit Rosings,” Richard remarked, taking a burning sip of his drink. “There is little cause for delay, now that my main concern is settled, and I do so wish for Mary and Anne to meet.” He risked a second glance at his cousin. “I even think Aunt Catherine might find it in her heart to be happy for me.”
“Perhaps.” Darcy lifted his glance, at length.
“You are welcome to join me, cousin,” Richard pressed, after a long moment’s silence. He turned to Bingley. “Not that I wish to deprive you of all your guests at once.”
“Not at all!” Charles grinned. “You may do precisely as you please, both of you, and know that you are welcome to return to Netherfield whenever you wish to.”
“Darcy.” Richard leant forward, leaning his elbows on his knees and facing his cousin directly. “I am going to speak freely, and say what I ought to have said when I first arrived. You may rage against me, but I have known you long enough to withstand your fury. And in any case, ‘tis a day of renown for me, and you must permit me a little leeway in my behaviour, today of all days. If you care for Elizabeth Bennet, you must speak, and speak now. She is not married yet.”
Darcy frowned, but Richard could not quite discern whether his reaction was down to a bitter disappointment at the state of affairs between Elizabeth and Mr Collins, or a profound irritation that Richard had so correctly guessed his feelings.
“It was plain to all present, except perhaps to Mr Collins and Mrs Bennet, who are both so focused on their own desires, that Elizabeth does not wish to marry him. I rather think she might accept any alternative offered to her.” He let his voice rest forcefully on the words “any alternative” in hopes his meaning might be plain to Darcy. His cousin was of a pragmatic bent, and would surely see that although any offer of marriage he made to Elizabeth Bennet now could not hope to be a romantic one, it could at least be a practical opportunity for escape that she would likely grab at with both hands. They would learn to love each other, or learn to acknowledge the fact that they already did, that much Richard was sure of, if only they could preserve the opportunity to learn it. If that meant marriage, Richard would support it. He cared for his cousin and wished his happiness. And, through Mary, he cared for Elizabeth too. As a gentleman, he disliked the thought of any woman being pressed into a match she despised, on the whims of those who professed an interest in her future. The Bennets were not wealthy, but they were surely not impoverished enough that such a sacrifice was necessary?
“Come to Rosings with me,” Richard said, impetuously. “I shall need you on my side to tackle Aunt Catherine, and I do not doubt Mary and Elizabeth will be eager for your companionship as well.”
Darcy’s brows lowered further still, but Richard would not be put off.
“Three weeks is all I ask, for look at all that has taken place in just a few days! Who knows what three weeks may yield?”
The End
Three Weeks in Kent
A Convenient Marriage Book 2
Chapter One
“Elizabeth, I do not how I will manage without you!”
Jane Bennet smiled as she spoke, but the tears that threatened to spill over the lids of her blue eyes belied the expression as anything other than desolation.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Jane!” Lizzy said, pulling her sister close in an embrace. “I am going to Kent, not France. It will not be a long separation and we might write - in fact, we must write, for I wish to be kept updated with all the news at Netherfield in my absence.”
She did not say and I shall need some vent for my own frustrations, for she knew that would finish Jane entirely, and Lizzy could not cope with another fit of tears, either hers or anybody else’s. She was departing for Kent, at the invitation of her sister Mary, whose engagement to Colonel Fitzwilliam was still the most recent news rejoiced upon throughout Longbourn. Her status as an engaged woman had elevated Mary in her mother’s opinion, at least, and by comparison, Elizabeth’s suffering was almost over. Despite her mother’s attempts to win her over, though, Lizzy remained pitched against her, and now the silence was all her own doing. Mrs Bennet had conspired to marry Elizabeth to Mr Collins, despite being fully aware of Lizzy’s true feelings for their buffoon of a cousin. It was this that had allowed Mrs Bennet to consent to Lizzy’s planned visit to Kent, although as far as Elizabeth was concerned, she was going at Mary’s insistence, and Mary’s alone. She could ignore Mr Collins just as successfully in Kent as she could in Hertfordshire, an
d she certainly had no intention of marrying the man, whatever her parents had conspired to say about the matter.
Lizzy's heart sank. It was not her mother's actions that hurt the most, although she had been surprised by Mrs Bennet's determination to have her way in this, and to insist, no matter what Elizabeth said or did, that the marriage must take place. That was not unexpected, for her mother was bound and determined to stay at Longbourn, and if that meant sacrificing one daughter's happiness for the sake of the others, she would do it, rationalising the action in whatever way she needed to that the marriage would grow to be a happy one in time. But, in this instance, her father had also been brought into the scheme. Lizzy had never imagined that Mr Bennet, after a lifetime of taking his daughter's side against her mother, would suddenly and completely switch allegiances and consent to the marriage in her absence. He had somewhat relented his position since, after Elizabeth's tears and silence and all-around un-Lizzy-like behaviour had impressed upon him how much she despised the idea. The matter was left inconclusive, then, with Mr Bennet permitting that he would approve of the marriage “so long as Lizzy herself wished it”. As Lizzy did not, any engagement between herself and Mr Collins was at present only theoretical, although Lizzy knew there would need to be some resolution, and soon, if anybody was ever to move on.
I must find somebody else who suits him better, she thought, with grim determination. If such a lady exists anywhere in all creation, I have not met her yet. Lizzy had indulged in an idle daydream that Mary might have suited him well, but now that her younger sister was engaged to be married to Colonel Fitzwilliam, which union Lizzy very heartily approved of, she would be forced to search elsewhere for a suitable future Mrs Collins. That he had already left Kent once in search of a bride did not bode well for her success over the next few weeks, but nonetheless, Lizzy would not allow her spirits to dim. To admit defeat would be to embrace the future her mother had laid out for her and that, Elizabeth could not, would not do.
“Will you be alright?” Jane asked, softly. She had been watching Elizabeth carefully, and Lizzy had no doubt that some indication of her true feelings had been playing very plainly across her features.
“I shall survive it, do not fear!” Lizzy said, with a cheerful smile. “Besides, I shall be intrigued indeed to visit Rosings and see how Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s elegant home lives up to our cousin’s extravagant description.”
“And to witness her interaction with her nephew, I imagine,” Jane said, sagely. “Did Mr Darcy say he intended to accompany the Colonel?”
“I believe there was some suggestion he might,” Lizzy said, with a philosophical shrug that did not deceive Jane half as well as she thought. How strange that my saving grace in the next three weeks should be the presence of Mr Darcy in our party! The irony of the thought was not lost on her, for despite taking a near instantaneous dislike to the man, their oft being thrown together by their common companions, even more so now that her sister was pledged to marry his cousin, had begun to soften Elizabeth's feelings towards Mr Darcy. “At least with him there I shall not want for sensible conversation.”
“Mr Darcy offers conversation now?” Jane’s eyes sparkled. “Goodness, how times have changed.”
“Do not tease, Jane, for I am in no mood for it. And anyway, even you must admit Mr Darcy has become an altogether more outgoing and interesting version of himself since Colonel Fitzwilliam's arrival.”
“Very true,” Jane conceded. “I still think you were rather too harsh on him to begin with. Not everyone is as outgoing as you, Lizzy, and for some people, it just takes a little time to get to know one another to the point that they feel able to speak freely.”
“I still would not compare the two cousins in terms of their natures: Colonel Fitzwilliam is a good deal friendlier than his cousin, but if my choice is between Mr Collins and Mr Darcy for conversation, I need not tell you who I would prefer.” Lizzy sighed and looked back towards her cases, not noticing the delighted smile that passed quickly over Jane's face before being swallowed in an attitude of indifference.
“At least you will be among friends. And I should be interested to know more of the third cousin, Anne, I believe her name is. She has hovered like a spectre at the edge of all Colonel Fitzwilliam has said of the party at Rosings, so you must do your best to befriend her, Lizzy, that we may know her better. It will not be difficult, I am sure, for you can make it very easy to love you.”
“You suggest that I do not always!” Elizabeth laughed and batted her eyelashes at her sister. “Which statement I would take offence at, were I not compelled to acknowledge its truth.” She gave a last glance over her belongings and threw up her hands. “Well, I am sure I have forgotten half of all I should want, but this will do for now.” She hesitated, lifting her hand to her lips. “Do you suppose Rosings has anything approaching a library? That is, a library of books I might want to read?” Her eyes twinkled. “I shall go mad without a good book.”
“Nonsense!” Jane said, with a spirited grin. “You shall be so busy conversing with Mr Darcy I dare say you will not have even a spare moment to look at something as pedestrian as a book!”
Lizzy aimed a pillow at her, but Jane dodged so that the offending article flew through the open doorway and landed with a thump at Mrs Bennet's feet, who frowned at it, and lifted her gaze to her daughters, but had the grace, at that particular moment, to stay silent.
“ARE YOU SURE IT IS no imposition to Aunt Catherine, my accompanying you to Rosings?” Darcy asked as he and Richard sat in the study at Netherfield, shortly before they prepared to leave for Kent.
“None at all!” Richard pulled a folded letter from his pocket and smoothed it out on the desk, jabbing at it for emphasis. “See for yourself.”
Reluctantly, Darcy cast his eyes over Lady Catherine’s short missive. Her elegant penmanship denoted her exacting nature as thoroughly as the words she used.
Of course, you are most welcome to join us as early as you choose, and we are delighted that dear Fitzwilliam will also be accompanying you. Darcy was unsure whether she referred to herself in the plural until her next sentence clarified, and he frowned irritably.
Anne, in particular, is most eager to see her cousin again, and sends both of you her most affectionate greetings...
He sincerely doubted Anne was even aware of being thus mentioned in her mother’s correspondence, but he did not doubt that she would be genuinely happy to see both of her cousins again, once they settled at Rosings. He scanned the rest of the letter, but Lady Catherine was merely interested to learn more about Colonel Fitzwilliam’s young bride-to-be, professing her welcome to the young lady she as yet only knew by name. Mary Bennet. I wonder if she is any relation to Sir Reginald Bennet... Darcy snorted. He doubted very much that there was any connection between the two families, but it would soothe Lady Catherine’s sensibilities to believe for as long as she might that her nephew was at least aligning himself with the daughter of a Baronet.
“You see not much is changed at Rosings.” Richard sank comfortably into a chair opposite Darcy, and turned to stare out of the window. “Still, it will be good to stay there a while. We might have the banns read there, and marry...” He trailed off and hesitated so long before speaking again that Darcy was forced to lift his gaze. “Even if that means Mr Collins performing the ceremony.” Darcy almost laughed at the morose expression that had settled over his cousin's face, and had the reason for Richard's dismay not been Mr Collins, who was at present something of a thorn in Darcy's own side, he might have made some comment. Instead, he merely murmured his agreement, and the two men lapsed into comfortable silence.
A knock at the study door disturbed them, and it was opened to admit Charles Bingley, who laughed to see the cousins sitting in silence.
“Goodness me, who died?” he asked, his bright smile falling a little as he wondered at the truth of his words. “Nobody has, have they?”
“Not that I’m aware of!” Richard said, chee
rfully. “We are just taking a moment to enjoy the peace and quiet here at Netherfield before we bid it farewell.”
“Quite!” Charles smiled. “Well, it shall be even quieter without you here.” He darted a glance over his shoulder to where Mrs Hurst's shrill voice could be heard over the faint strains of Caroline's piano playing. “I say, chaps, you'll not stay away too long, will you?”
He looked so lost that Darcy got to his feet. Crossing the room, he laid a hand on Charles’ shoulder.
“You cannot be afraid of being left alone with your sisters Charles! They are your sisters.”
Distress settled over his friend’s usually amiable face.
“Exactly my point! My friend, if you think them difficult when you are here...” He trailed off, at length giving a despairing shrug. “Oh well, I shall be forced to pull rank if they prove too challenging. Netherfield is my home, after all, and -”
“And nothing!” Richard said, from his seat. “They can be content with it, or remove. One sister has her own home and a husband who would, I wager, be happier in it. And the other has no reason to complain.” He could apparently not resist darting his eyes to Darcy's at the vaguest mention of Caroline, and Darcy grimaced. She still had not forgiven him for agreeing to depart with his cousin, and so soon. She had spent the first day or two being eminently agreeable, not only to Darcy but to Richard as well, and Darcy dared to think she might be angling for an invitation to join them. She had even suggested as much, indicating her desire for Charles - and by extension herself - to accompany them to Kent and thus separate her brother from Jane Bennet’s tender clutches. Darcy had reminded her, drily, that Colonel Fitzwilliam was planning to wed Miss Mary, and not only that but Miss Elizabeth Bennet was also due to find herself in Kent for the period. That had silenced Caroline’s campaign, and indeed Caroline herself, for she had resorted to merely shooting doleful looks in his direction, whenever she believed him ignorant of her.
