Mr. Darcy's Undoing

by Abigail Reynolds

  “Perhaps I will have the opportunity for a little more sleep, then,” she teased.

  With a slow smile, he said, “I would not count on that—no, I would not count on that at all, my best beloved.”

  They had reached the edge of Meryton, and as a result began to restrict their speech somewhat, but the affectionately teasing tone of their conversation continued. Elizabeth was not in a humour to fret over how the inhabitants of the town might see them on this, her last full day in Hertfordshire, so she did not attempt to disguise her happiness or to hide the warmth in her countenance when she looked at Darcy. She was gazing up at him with a happy smile when Darcy’s face grew abruptly serious, and when she looked to see what was concerning him, she saw that their path was about to cross with that of Mr. Covington.

  He was coming out of the milliner’s shop, and clearly had not seen them until he was nearly upon them, so the meeting between them could not be escaped. The greetings between them were uncomfortable, and Elizabeth felt painfully embarrassed.

  “I understand I must offer you both my congratulations,” said Mr. Covington in a stiff voice.

  “Thank you,” said Darcy evenly.

  Elizabeth looked away in discomfort. She felt for Mr. Covington’s position. She knew they were no doubt under observation by curious passers-by, and he could not afford to be as cavalier of their opinion as she, so for his sake she wished this encounter to go well. She did not particularly trust Darcy’s temperament where her former fiancé was concerned, yet hardly dared to look up at him either. After a brief, awkward silence, she said, “How is your mother, Mr. Covington? It has been some time since I had the pleasure of seeing her.”

  “I am sorry to say her health is not of the best at the moment, although we are hoping it will improve with the warmer weather,” he said, perhaps slightly more gently.

  “Please give her my regards, and tell her I have been thinking of her.” Elizabeth did not know how to extricate them from this situation, and when she finally glanced up at Darcy, she saw he was looking thoughtful.

  “If you will be so kind as to excuse me for a moment, Miss Bennet, Mr. Covington, I have some business in the shop here,” said Darcy. “I will return shortly.” He bowed and made his way inside, leaving the two of them on their own in the midst of the public street.

  Elizabeth looked after him in shock. This was the last behaviour she would have expected from him. She struggled to gather her wits, and said weakly, “I hope her health will return soon.” There seemed to be an embargo on every subject.

  There was a moment of silence, and she still could not bring herself to meet his eyes. At last he said, in a tone of reproach, “You might have said something, Lizzy.”

  She looked at him, startled. In her confusion, she did not even think to rebuke him for his familiarity. “I beg your pardon?” she asked.

  “I wish you had told me, when you broke off our engagement, that it was because of him, rather than leaving me to believe it was on account of your sister. Or did you think I would not be able to make the connection? Perhaps no one else would be in a position to guess you made your decision for other reasons, but I have not forgotten how he behaved when I visited you last summer.” Mr. Covington’s voice was level, but he could not completely disguise the bitterness behind his words.

  Dismayed by the conclusion he had evidently reached, she replied falteringly, “But it was not… I fear you are under a misapprehension; at that time I had no expectation of seeing Mr. Darcy again. I did not believe he would ever consider such an alliance; it was not part of my reasoning at all.”

  “You will forgive me if I find that somewhat difficult to believe,” he said, with a hardness in his voice she had never heard before from him.

  She had not expected forgiveness from him, but it pained her to hear the resentment in his voice, and to know she was responsible for its presence. She could certainly understand the injury to his pride, and she cast about for a way to relieve it. “I am sorry you do not believe me, sir. The truth of the matter is that while I was aware Mr. Darcy was unhappy about my engagement, I had no expectations of him at all. However, you may not be aware that my family owes him a great deal more than we could ever repay—he laid out a substantial sum of money to bring about my sister Lydia’s wedding.” She waited anxiously to see if he would draw the hoped-for conclusion from these two unrelated facts. It would be easier for him, she was certain, if he believed that her family’s debt was the cause of her defection from him, rather than a matter of her preference.

  He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I… see,” he said. Then, straightening his shoulders, he added with a surprising formality, “I will have to ask you to excuse me, Miss Bennet. I had promised to call on Miss King this afternoon, and I do not want to keep her waiting.”

  Elizabeth stopped herself before she could raise her eyebrow at his implication, and instead forced herself to say in a serious tone, “Of course. I had not realized Miss King had returned to Meryton; I am pleased to hear it.”

  “I will bid you good day, then, Miss Bennet.” The tone of farewell in his voice was unmistakable.

  She curtseyed. “Good day, Mr. Covington.” She looked after him for a moment while he strode away. Mary King will be good for him, she thought. They both deserve greater happiness in love than they have found in the past. This reflection brought her mind back to Darcy, and she entered the shop in search of him.

  He was apparently negotiating with the shopkeeper over a pair of silk gloves. She felt a brief moment of hesitation before approaching him, suspecting he would be less than happy about their chance meeting with Mr. Covington; but when he sensed her drawing close to him, he turned to her with an unexpected look of vibrant happiness in his eyes. She could not but smile in response; it was as if he was offering her a glimpse into his soul, and the joy he found in her. She felt an intense longing to tell him she loved him, but under the circumstances, gazing at one another was all that was possible, and even that almost unbearably intimate.

  Darcy concluded his purchase, feeling suddenly grateful to Bingley for insisting upon this change of plans. He could not marry Elizabeth soon enough to suit him—so much of his happiness rested in her, and this meeting with Covington had only confirmed her worth to him.

  He had been surprised on encountering Covington to find that he no longer felt the jealous rage he had long harboured towards the other man. It had been a revelation to discover that he no longer feared losing Elizabeth to him somehow; that the very freedom and joy with which Elizabeth had finally given herself to him both in spirit and in body had convinced him of her commitment to him, and, oddly enough, the sight of Covington had proved to him the truth of her love.

  Until then he had not realized, or perhaps had not allowed himself to think of, the fact that Covington was in many ways a better match for Elizabeth than he was. Covington would not have taken her away from her family and the society she had known her whole life, and he would have offered her a comfortable life in a sphere to which she was accustomed, instead of asking her to take over a position as mistress of an estate whose size was completely foreign to her. Darcy could not deny, either, that Covington’s behaviour was superior to his—not only had he never required instruction in civil conduct such as Darcy had received at Hunsford, but Covington had, even in times of difficulty, acted the part of the perfect gentleman to Elizabeth, a claim Darcy could not even begin to make. No, the only thing Darcy had to offer that was superior to Covington was his fortune, and as he knew all too well, his wealth was meaningless to Elizabeth.

  Yet she had denied Covington for his sake, denied him even when she did not believe he would return for her, despite his incivility early in their acquaintance and his disdain for proper behaviour during her engagement. She had loved him, even though a marriage to him would mean leaving behind her home and her beloved sister, and despite all the challenges
it would offer. She had continued to love him as he methodically ignored every precept of propriety in their relationship. The more he considered it, the more he realized that there could be no explanation for her choice apart from a pure, unreasoned love for him which transcended all his faults. It was a realization which had brought him a sensation of enormous liberation.

  There was no room for him to speak his feelings nor to demonstrate them at Meryton. Applying for the license for the morrow could not help but be a pleasure in the confirmation it held for their upcoming union. It was not until they were out of Meryton and on the road to Longbourn that he felt he could begin to express his feelings, but, as was often the case, Elizabeth reached that point first.

  “So, sir, you seem in particularly fine spirits today,” she said with an arch look.

  “Should I not be? After all, tomorrow is the last day I will have to awaken without you in my arms,” he said boldly.

  She coloured, knowing from his look that his thoughts ranged well beyond the realm of merely awakening together, and that her own wanton desires pleased him greatly. Trying to distract herself away from the tingling sense of excitement he had created in her, she said, “I was surprised you were willing to leave me alone with Mr. Covington.”

  “I have the greatest of faith in you, my best beloved,” he replied with a smile.

  “I am glad you recognize that you need have no concerns on his account,” she said, still surprised to find him so free of jealousy.

  “He would have been a better match for you, you know,” he said, stealing a glance at her.

  “That, my dear, does not even merit a response!” she said with a laugh.

  “But it is true nonetheless,” he insisted. “I have nothing he lacks but money.”

  She stopped and turned to him with a saucy look. “You have tigers, unicorns, and a phoenix, which happen to be my precise requirements in a husband.”

  He understood her meaning, for he felt their bond went beyond the everyday as well. Nevertheless, he raised an eyebrow, and said, “So you only love me for the wild animals?”

  She glanced at him archly. “Wild animals? Mr. Darcy, you assured me the tigers of Pemberley were tame!” she said with a mock formality.

  The road was then passing through a small thicket, and he took advantage of the privacy to take her into his arms and kiss her until her eyes were soft and her cheeks becomingly flushed. “And you believed me?” he said in her ear, with the supreme lightness of spirit that comes only with loving and the knowledge of being loved, despite all of the attendant fears and risks. “That was foolish—everyone knows tigers cannot be tamed.”

  “In truth, I would not have them any other way,” said Elizabeth contentedly.

  Epilogue

  Elizabeth paused on the landing of the great staircase at Pemberley, looking down to where Georgiana, dressed in a gown of the finest silk and lace, was in happy consultation with Mrs. Reynolds, no doubt over some last-minute detail. She smiled at the liveliness evident in the quick movements of Georgiana’s graceful hands and the animation of her voice as she spoke, and she could not help but contrast this happy and elegant woman with the somber and quiet girl she had first met four years previously. What a change time had made! Time, the love of her family, and most especially the tender affection of the young man who would be taking her as his wife later that morning—all had combined to transform her into the joyful and lovely bride she was today.

  It had been a long road; despite everything Elizabeth had done to try to help her sister-in-law to heal her wounds, there had been times when she had despaired of ever seeing the sadness in her eyes lift. But persistence had proved the key, along with the unconditional adoration of her niece and nephew. It will be hard for them to accept that Aunt Georgiana is not available for their every whim anymore! she thought, knowing perfectly well that nothing would keep Georgiana away for long.

  She was so caught up in her thoughts that she did not hear footsteps approaching behind her until a pair of familiar arms stole around her waist. With a contented sigh, she leaned back against her husband, feeling his warmth infuse her.

  “My best beloved,” he murmured, nuzzling her hair. Looking downstairs to see what had caught her interest, he said, “Does this bring back memories?”

  “Well, not of our wedding day,” she said with a laugh. “That was far too disorganized an affair—Mrs. Reynolds would never have permitted it, had she been there. But of how we began—yes, a little.” Their marriage, though, had led directly to this day; had Darcy not married her, without fortune or connections, he would never have considered approving Georgiana’s choice. Although her betrothed was gently bred—he was, in fact, a distant Fitzwilliam connection who had become Darcy’s protégé—as a third son he had no fortune of his own. Ironically, Georgiana had come to know him after Darcy bestowed on him the living at Kympton, which was once destined to be Wickham’s; but a more dissimilar soul could not have existed. Mr. Wagner’s gentle nature and cheerful outlook made him a perfect match for Georgiana, and it had been he more than anyone who had drawn her out of her shell.

  She realized Darcy had grown very still, and she knew him well enough to be aware that this signified serious thoughts. “What is it, my love?” she asked, turning her head to kiss his cheek lightly.

  “Oh, I was thinking how close I came to never having you,” he said, and she could hear, even after all these years, the distant echo of that pain in his voice. “Thank you for being willing to take the risk of accepting me.”

  She turned in his arms until she could hold him, pressing her head against his. “My love, I cannot imagine my life without you,” she said. “And the risk was yours, as you know well.”

  “Minx,” he said affectionately, recalling her fears for him. They had not proved to be completely unfounded; once word of her past had leaked into London society, there had been a definite chilling of the atmosphere there, and invitations which once would have been forthcoming slowed considerably. Their first, and only, Season in London had not been a particular success, at least not until the arrival of Darcy’s aunt and uncle in Town. He had not minded, however; he far preferred being at Pemberley with Elizabeth to being in London without her, and there had been no difficulty with her acceptance in Derbyshire society—Mrs. Darcy was the mistress of Pemberley, regardless of whence she had come. The matter of her past still worried her upon occasion, but she could not deny his contentedness with his situation, nor his reliance upon her.

  Their marriage, as it happened, had not been completely without benefit to Darcy’s family. By an odd twist of fate, that same loss of social status inflicted on Darcy by his marriage had proved an unexpected boon to his cousin. Lord and Lady Matlock, unlike Lady Catherine de Bourgh, had decided they were above acknowledging that there was any fault in Darcy’s choice of bride. They had welcomed Elizabeth into their family circle, and, as prominent and influential leaders in the ton, tolerated no slights to either her or Darcy at social events they hosted or attended. More than one socialite had discovered the price of angering Lord and Lady Matlock, finding themselves excluded from many further invitations.

  This had not gone unnoticed by the clever mind of Sir Thomas Carlisle, who had parlayed an interest in textile production from a beginning in penury to one of the greatest fortunes of the age. Although as a tradesman he would never be accepted in the ton, he was not afraid to part with a great deal of that fortune to allow his only daughter to make her way into the kind of society he himself would never be allowed to enter, and he saw in Lord and Lady Matlock’s treatment of Elizabeth a possibility for his daughter’s future. It was not long before an approach was made, and Colonel Fitzwilliam was brought to trade the prestige and protection of the Fitzwilliam name for the extensive fortune of the former Miss Sophia Carlisle.

  Although Darcy and Elizabeth had not seen a great deal of them since their marriage, Elizabeth was
fond of Sophia, finding her both amiable and unpretentious. While no one could claim it had been a love match, there was a clear amicability between her and her husband, and they shared a fondness for society which made their townhouse a center for many gatherings. Richard, who had resigned his commission on his marriage, often tried to convince Darcy to join them in Town for the Season, but Darcy would always refuse, claiming to prefer to enjoy Pemberley with his family.

  Elizabeth felt a shift in his body and realized he was no longer thinking about the past but about the very present moment. She smiled at him in amusement as he pressed himself against her in an unmistakable manner. “I believe we have a wedding to attend, my dear,” she said lightly.

  “I hope it will be over soon, and the wedding breakfast very brief, because I have some urgent business to discuss with you,” he said, with that look in his eyes that could still awaken her desires.

  “Well, perhaps it would not have been so urgent had you not stayed up half the night drinking with Richard!” she said tartly, but with a smile which removed any sting from her words.

  He gave her an intent look. “Why, did you miss me?” he asked teasingly.

  She snuggled against him. “Of course I did,” she said.

  He leaned over to whisper intimately in her ear. “Well, I shall have to make it up to you then, my best beloved, as soon as our guests leave. Fortunately, that gives me some time to think over the question of how best to satisfy you. Shall I use my hand first, or my mouth to please you? Or perhaps both. I may not be able to wait as long as it takes to get to our bedchamber; we may have to make do with the study, because I am very hungry”—he paused to nibble her ear delicately—“to hear you cry out in pleasure at my touch.”