Waking to Mr. Darcy: A Pride and Prejudice Novella

by Leenie Brown

  “Very good.” Mr. Bennet reclined in the chair as if perfectly at ease.

  It was an action that allowed Elizabeth to breathe more easily. He was not angry.

  “I shall not wander around the woods, Elizabeth. You know it is not my way.”

  Elizabeth nodded.

  “You shall have to marry.”

  Again, Elizabeth nodded. It was what she expected. It was what she had been preparing her mind to accept.

  “And it seems you have two options.”

  Elizabeth turned wide eyes to her father. She had not expected that! Surely, he was not suggesting her cousin as an option.

  “I have my preference, of course,” said her father. “But it is your decision as to what shall be.”

  How could he smile if he was about to say what she dreaded he would?

  “Mr. Collins has nobly volunteered to take Mr. Darcy’s place in marrying you.”

  She watched his eyes twinkle and the corner of his mouth twitch and breathed a sigh of relief.

  “However,” her father continued, “Mr. Darcy is not inclined to accept this offer unless it is what you would want.”

  His brow rose, and his lips pursed slightly, letting her know that he was struggling to keep his opinions to himself. She smiled and was rewarded by one in return.

  “And what does each gentleman have to offer?” she asked, her smile hidden from her face but not her eyes.

  Darcy was taken aback by the question for a moment until he saw her eyebrow raise. She was being impertinent. He hoped it was to Mr. Collins’s detriment and not his own.

  “Well,” Mr. Bennet tipped his head to the side. “Mr. Collins will one day, on my demise, inherit Longbourn, and until then, he can offer you the position of a parson’s wife. It is a decent living, and his patroness is very condescending, although I am given to believe she is also rather exacting. But, Kent is not so very far from Hertfordshire, so visiting your sisters or having them visit you would not be a great inconvenience. Perhaps there are some fine gentlemen in Kent, who might take a liking to one of them.”

  “Papa,” Jane whispered.

  Mr. Bennet leaned forward and patted Jane’s knee. “Oh, I am not anxious to part with any of you, but it must be done eventually.”

  “Is that all?” Elizabeth asked. “There is nothing more my cousin may offer?”

  “A comfortable income and a home, is that not enough?” Mr. Collins’ tone was incredulous.

  “No,” replied Elizabeth, favouring him with a smile she did not feel. “It is not. I wish for more.”

  “What more can there be? A lady need only be kept in peace and provided for, to be thought of as respectable, and looked up to in her circles.”

  Elizabeth watched Darcy’s jaw clench and his eyes narrow. Apparently, he did not agree with Mr. Collins.

  “Respect, for one,” said Elizabeth. There many were things that she desired in a husband, and though she had only ever shared such thoughts with Jane, the way Mr. Collins’ nose jutted upward and the smug look on his face was enough to goad her into sharing them here. “Affection for another. He must be a man of good character with a heart that is loyal and strong. I wish for a man who will provide not only for me but our children – and not just by providing wealth and comfort but by providing an example to be followed.” She paused for a moment. “Ah, and to all this, he must add a love of reading and debate.”

  A rather inelegant snort escaped Mr. Collins. “I assure you I can offer all that.”

  “Pray tell, what was the last book on philosophy or the most recent novel you have read?” Elizabeth knew full well the man’s thoughts on such subjects. He had in his meandering speeches and lectures in the short time he had been at Longbourn made his position on such things perfectly clear.

  “A proper lady does not read such things.” His nose etched ever so slightly higher. “Sermons, books on etiquette and social graces are acceptable. Nay! Recommended! A lady must strengthen her mind in such things as to keep herself from sin, and to read anything else would necessarily tempt her to impropriety. A woman’s mind is a fragile thing, easily led, and in need of guidance. Any man of good character would know such and see to it that his wife and daughters read nothing that might harm them.”

  Elizabeth caught her tongue between her front teeth. He really was a most arrogant boor!

  “And I see no reason for a wife to care about her husband’s ability to debate.” He continued. “Debating is for the learned and scholarly man. It has very little place in the parlour amongst the ladies. No man wishes for a brawling wife. Indeed, it is his duty to instruct her to be otherwise. A quarrelsome woman is not a proper reflection on a man.”

  Mr. Bennet coughed, and Elizabeth was nearly certain it was an attempt to cover a chuckle. He knew what she did — she and Mr. Collins were a most ill-matched pairing.

  “Quarrelling and debate are not the same things,” muttered Darcy.

  “Quite right, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth with a smile. She paused for a moment and tilted her head as she looked at him. A rather pleasant fluttering of excitement started in her stomach and spread through her chest and arms before causing her head to spin slightly.

  “I cannot think of a single, true gentleman who would accept such vulgar activities from his wife!” Mr. Collins declared in indignation.

  Elizabeth’s smile grew. “I can.”

  “Surely you cannot. There is no such man in existence.”

  Elizabeth’s cheeks flushed, and she looked to her father, who was smiling in his “I see you have come to agree with me at last” fashion. Normally, it was a look that drove her to throwing up her hands and stomping from the room, but today it did not. He gave her a nod, urging her to speak her mind.

  She took a deep breath and complied. “You are wrong, Mr. Collins.”

  Her father gave her a smile and a wink, indicating it was just what he had hoped she would say. She gave her head a small shake and turned toward Mr. Collins.

  The man was gaping at her and sputtering about how it was impossible for him to be wrong or for her to know that he was or some such foolishness to which Elizabeth refused to listen.

  “You are wrong,” she restated more firmly. “I am certain there are such men who exist.”

  “I am sure I have never met such a creature. I am confident that you are mistaken, dear cousin. You have had a rather nasty fall, and you are not capable of –”

  “Do not accuse my daughter of being incapable of thought,” growled Mr. Bennet. “I will endure most of your foolish ramblings and archaic ideas, but I will not allow you to insult my daughters.”

  Mr. Collins shrank back slightly, muttering something about never insulting his fair cousin in such a way, but Elizabeth’s father ignored him.

  “Do you wish for me to tell you what Mr. Darcy has to offer, my dear?”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “Mr. Darcy has told me about his estate.” Her heart thumped loudly in her chest. “His actions have told me the rest.” She swallowed and squeezed Jane’s hand. “He is not as I first thought,” she peeked up at her father and then turned her eyes to her cousin. “You see, Mr. Collins, I know there are men who are as I described because Mr. Darcy is one.”

  “So you have made your choice?” her father asked.

  Elizabeth shook her head and chuckled. “No, Papa. I did not make this choice. A downpour of rain and a spot of mud made it for me.”

  Her father joined her in chuckling. “Mr. Darcy,” he said rising and extending his hand to the gentleman. “I shall be pleased to know my daughter is in the care of a gentleman of such exceptional character.”

  Darcy grasped Mr. Bennet’s hand. Relief swept through his body until a troubling thought stopped it. “But, sir, I did not finish telling you of my character.”

  “You told me your failings which spoke to your strengths, and then, your actions in defending my daughter and your friend before we entered this room told me the rest.” A knock sounded at the door to the c
ottage, and Bingley hurried to answer it. “Ah, that must be Mr. Sheppard. Come, Mr. Darcy, we shall retire to the comfort of the fire while the surgeon examines your handiwork. And Mr. Collins, I believe you have accomplished your purpose, and seeing as the rain has not yet increased, you will want to hurry to Longbourn before it does.” He took Mr. Collins by the arm and escorted him from the room as he sputtered about wishing to give a report to Mrs. Bennet about what the surgeon said. “No, no, Mr. Collins. You can see she is well. Truly, you must not wait any longer to inform my wife of her good fortune in having a daughter spoken for by such a wealthy gentleman.”

  “But Mr. Bennet,” pleaded Mr. Collins. “He is not free to marry, and my patroness expects me to marry Miss Elizabeth in his place. In fact, I am quite confident it will give her no end of pleasure to know that I have rescued my cousin from disrepute.”

  “Rescued from disrepute?” Mr. Bennet’s hand tightened on Mr. Collins’ arm. “What have you done?”

  “I thought it a good thing to tell my patroness of what had happened to my cousin as I was certain she would wish to know the character of the lady I had chosen. I assured her of Cousin Elizabeth’s character in a most strongly worded way. Mentioning, of course, how such an incident could happen to anyone.” His brows drew together. “She will not be pleased to hear that Cousin Elizabeth was walking when rain was threatening, but I did not mention that she was walking alone. That might have been too much for Lady Catherine to accept. However, she will be delighted to know her nephew has been of service in saving my cousin from a dire fate.”

  “Stop,” said Mr. Bennet. “Do you mean to tell me that you have written of this incident to Lady Catherine?”

  “Without delay. I told myself that she should be informed right away, for to hear of it from any other source would be very displeasing. So, I wrote to her this morning while Mr. Bingley was still in conference with you.” He nodded his head emphatically as he spoke. “I am certain Lady Catherine will be accepting of Cousin Elizabeth despite the improprieties of walking in the rain and injuring herself.”

  “Elizabeth has refused you,” Mr. Bennet spoke the words slowly as a man struggling to contain his anger might. “And had she not refused you, I would have. Go to Longbourn. Pack your things and be gone. I could not abide your father, and, though I have tried, I cannot abide you.” He grabbed Mr. Collins’ hat and coat, shoved them at the man and opened the door. “Wait until morning if you must, but I have no desire to see you again.” Mr. Bennet pushed the door closed as Mr. Collins still stood on the step, attempting to explain that he could not return to Rosings without a wife and that Lady Catherine would be expecting him to have married Elizabeth.

  “I pity the woman that marries that man,” Mr. Bennet muttered and then sighed loudly. “I do hope my wife leaves off with her matchmaking for our daughters and that man. I shall not allow any of them to marry him.”

  With Mr. Collins gone and the surgeon examining Elizabeth, the three remaining gentlemen settled into seats in front of the fire to wait. It was not a long wait; the surgeon was pleased with the care Elizabeth had received. He noted no significant issues that should be a cause for concern. Her wound should heal. Both her cough and her fever should respond to proper rest, and the bump that she had received on her head showed no signs of having caused any lingering damage. With a promise to call again in three days’ time, he left.

  “It appears you may return home,” Mr. Bennet said to Elizabeth after receiving the surgeon’s report. “If we bundle you well, you should suffer no ill effects from being moved from here to Longbourn.”

  And in short order, Elizabeth found herself placed in the carriage by Mr. Darcy with blankets tucked around her for warmth. He took her hand before he stepped down from the carriage. “I shall call on you.”

  “I will look forward to it, sir.” She smiled at the thought of him calling on her. How differently she felt now from how she had just over a day ago!

  Without thinking, Darcy lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. Then, reluctantly and with a stammered apology, he exited the carriage to allow Mr. Bennet and Jane to climb in.

  Chapter 8

  Three days later when the sun had hidden itself below the horizon, and Longbourn was finally free of the excited chatter of ladies preparing for a ball, Elizabeth settled onto a settee in the sitting room, propping her still sore leg on a footstool as Mary took a seat in the corner. Mr. Darcy was to call this evening. He had managed to send a note the day after she had left the cottage to inquire after her wellbeing, but as she was not allowed out of her room until the surgeon gave permission, he had not yet called. A fluttering of nerves danced about in her stomach as she waited for his arrival. Strange as it had seemed and strange as it had sounded as she admitted it to Jane each day, she had missed his company.

  “I am sorry you had to stay with me, Mary.”

  Mary looked up from her book. “I am not. I do not care for balls, you know.”

  “But you dance so well,” said Elizabeth.

  “Dancing well and enjoying the activity are not the same. I do not enjoy it.” Mary flipped a page in her book. “I would skip every assembly if Mama would allow it, but Mama is desperate to be rid of me.” Mary laughed ruefully.

  Elizabeth wished to contradict her, but she could not. At least, she could not if she wanted to keep a clear conscience. Their mother was anxious about seeing all her daughters married, but she lamented most over Mary. Mary read too much and was far too serious. Things, which to their mother, spelled disaster in finding a husband. “Perhaps she will relax once Jane’s engagement has been announced,” suggested Elizabeth hopefully.

  Mary shook her head. “You are engaged, and yet, she has been worse these past three days.” Mary closed her book. “She begged Papa to allow Mr. Collins to call on me, and when Papa would not allow it, she attempted to find reasons to send me to town – in the rain!” Mary affected a look of scornful disapproval and mimicked their mother’s sharp tone. “Surely, your aunt would keep you if the rainfall became too heavy for you to return. If you bundle up well, you will not get ill. Your father has sent away your only hope!” Mary sighed. “And so on. You have been fortunate to be confined so much to your room.”

  “I am sorry,” said Elizabeth, “I know how she can be. Remember, she pushed me on Mr. Collins before you.”

  Mary chuckled. “We are not her favourites, are we?”

  “Indeed, we are not!”

  “Mr. Darcy,” announced Mrs. Hill. “I shall see to the tea straight away.”

  “Do not stand,” said Mr. Darcy as Elizabeth made to rise in greeting. He nodded to Mary. “It is good to see you this evening, Miss Mary. I do apologize for your having to miss the ball on my account.”

  “I have just assured my sister that it is not something for which you need apologize. I am quite pleased to miss it.”

  “You do not wish to see the finery and mingle with your neighbours?” he asked in surprise. Did not every young girl wish to attend balls?

  “I will admit to being curious about the splendour,” she admitted, “but I do not enjoy dancing and find talk of the weather to be rather dull.”

  Darcy chuckled. “I could not agree more.”

  “And talk of the weather will be even less exciting this evening. It has only been raining.” Mary cleared her throat and spoke in a deep voice. “Did you see the large puddle that formed in front of the blacksmith’s? Mud thick enough to pull a shoe off a horse.” She changed her pitch slightly. “Indeed, I hear he planned it to be such. Brings him more business.” She shook her head. “Foolishness!”

  Darcy continued to chuckle. This was the first he had seen Mary do more than sit silently in a corner or add a comment about why what her younger sisters were doing was inappropriate – often with a verse of scripture attached to the reprimand. This Mary, though still very prim looking, was much more relaxed. Perhaps there was a second of Elizabeth’s sisters whom he would not be averse to having visit.
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  “Is the ball well-attended?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Yes, it is very well-attended. Bingley begged me to stay for the first set, and I obliged. However, like Miss Mary, I do not enjoy crushes of people, so I came away as quickly as I could.” He held up the small leather bag he had brought. “I brought poetry for reading if our conversation should dwindle. I am not a great conversationalist.” He looked to Mary. “Do you like poetry? I could read something else if you prefer?”

  Mary shook her head. “Poetry is lovely, especially those poems about nature or those that tell a story.”

  “Then you are in luck for I have Lyrical Ballads by Wordsworth and Coleridge as well as some sonnets by Shakespeare.”

  “Is it the volume of ballads with the poem about the mariner who kills the bird?”

  “It is.”

  Mary favoured him with a rare smile. “Well, if it should come to the point of needing poetry to fill the air instead of silence, I would like to hear that tale, but until then, pay me no heed.”

  “Very well, if needed, I shall read you the Rhime of the Ancient Mariner, Miss Mary.”

  She continued to smile as she thanked him before turning back to her book.

  “How is your leg?” he asked Elizabeth.

  “It continues to do well,” she replied. “The surgeon commented on your work once again today when he was here. I am certain if you should wish to give up your estate and take up the profession, he would happily take you on.”

  Darcy chuckled. “I have no aspirations of becoming a surgeon. I only did what was needed. I cannot say I enjoyed the task.” He noted how her eyes dropped from looking at him. “Not that I was not thankful to render the service, of course.” He grimaced. Conversations in drawing rooms were never pleasant for him. He would rather sit and observe, but that was not what needed doing. He and Elizabeth needed to discuss their wedding, and though she had chosen him over her cousin, he was still apprehensive about broaching the subject. “I am not very good at chatting,” he apologized softly.