Falling for Mr. Darcy
Page 18
“Mr. Collins, I understand your wishes in this matter, but as her ladyship is not present, I do not feel it necessary to speak of her in my chapel.”
“I respectfully disagree, sir. As she is my noble patroness, I feel it is important that those of my acquaintance recognize the significance of her ladyship’s great condescension.”
The reverend decided to try another angle. After politely accepting Mr. Collins’s statement about his benefactor, Reverend Watkins remarked, “It appears her ladyship must be very selective in her choice of whom she deems to acknowledge in society, is that not so?”
“Oh, yes, Lady Catherine de Bourgh is most cognizant of her sphere,” Mr. Collins replied with inflated self-importance.
“Well then, sir, correct me if I am wrong, for surely you know her ladyship better than I, but do you not think she would not wish to include in her sphere some of those in attendance today, and that my acknowledgement of her ladyship would grant those persons a claim to this acknowledgement?”
“I had not thought of that reverend, but of course, you are correct. Continue with the services as you see fit without any mention of her ladyship’s condescension.”
“Thank you, sir, for your solicitous advice. I believe we are ready to begin now if you will take your place.”
Mr. Collins gave the reverend a gracious smile and bowed squeakily before resuming his spot just as the processional music began.
Elizabeth turned to watch her father walk Mary to the altar. She was inclined to look at the wedding as an opportunity for amusement, until her eyes rested on her father’s face. She could see that, although he was keeping his face expressionless, his eyes were sad. Elizabeth’s own heart became full as she remembered the tender talk she had with him over a week ago about love and the promise he compelled her to make that day only to marry for love. She had not considered how Mary’s wedding would bother her father. She chastised herself for having only thought of herself that week, between her eagerness to see Mr. Darcy again and then her bitter disappointment upon learning of his return to London.
With these and many other disturbing reflections, Elizabeth spent the entirety of the wedding ceremony and much of the wedding breakfast in thought. Her subdued mood attracted the notice of her aunt. As Mr. and Mrs. Collins departed Longbourn for their journey to Kent, Elizabeth startled at the feel of her aunt’s arm encircling hers and leading her towards the garden.
“Come, Lizzy, let us take a stroll in the garden.”
* * *
Mr. Wickham reclined lazily in a corner booth at the back of Wilson’s Pub in Meryton. He had ducked the morning’s training maneuvers and was already well in his cups. He angrily swallowed the last of his ale and waved his hand to signal for another. This venture is proving to be most encroaching on my free time. He enrolled in the militia only as a means of temporary financial support, but it was not long after that he found Colonel Forster breathing down his neck at every turn. He felt eyes on the back of his neck and it irritated him. The other officers used to be fun to stir up a bit of trouble with, but as his gambling debts began to mount, they were starting to turn on him and report some insignificant infraction or other to the colonel, making his plans to secure a wealthy bride even more difficult.
Wickham kicked the chair next to him, causing it to slide across the wood floor. It was all Darcy’s fault, and he knew it. All his troubles with Forster and the village of Meryton started when that man came into the county. He is so damned selfish that he cannot allow me to be happy, he thought bitterly. The more he thought about his current situation, the angrier he became, and it could all be laid at the feet of one man: Fitzwilliam Darcy. He could never accept that his father loved me better. He refused to acknowledge me at every turn. If it were not for his selfish ways, I would be married to Georgiana right now and living the life I deserve instead of sitting in a dirty pub where everyone is looking at me with suspicious eyes.
A barmaid approached with his requested pint of ale, and Wickham watched her figure as she walked uneasily towards him. He grinned wickedly as she came close enough for him to reach. With a quick motion, he grabbed her arm and pulled her onto his lap.
“Hello, miss,” Wickham sneered as she struggled to free herself. “Oh, you’re feisty. That is all right; I like a little fight in a woman sometimes.”
“I’ll ’ave none of dis, Mr. Wickham.” The owner of the bar marched up and pulled his niece free of the man. “The likes of yous no welcome no more, sir.”
Wickham spit angrily to the side as he said, “Your wench fell on me! I suggest that, if you do not approve of such behavior, you speak with the trollop and leave me be.”
The man stood taller and lifted his chin. “I says yous not welcome, sir. Kin’ly leave m’ pub.”
“Don’t mind if I do.” Wickham stood and raked his eyes up and down the scared barmaid’s body before saying, with disgust in his voice, “She isn’t much of a temptation anyway. Flat as a board and plain as the day is long.”
The few patrons of the pub began to voice their approvals of the owner’s eviction of Wickham as he passed by them to leave. Wickham’s ire rose significantly at the disrespectful way he was being treated and determined to find a way to humiliate and ruin Darcy once and for all. He left with a slam of the pub’s door and walked towards his barracks. He had never been treated with such malice, and he was sure Darcy was behind it. He nearly had at the altar that Mary King girl with the recently inherited fortune when suddenly her uncle whisked her off to Bath. Then the father of those Bennet chits, who were always good for a little flirtation, refused his admittance into their home.
Ducking behind a wall as he spotted Colonel Forster and his young wife enter a shop across the road, Wickham decided it was time for a change as he was not about to suffer through more of that man’s tyranny for having skipped maneuvers. Upon reaching his chambers, he pulled out a paper and writing supplies from the desk and sat to write a letter that would be the beginning of his revenge on Darcy. When he completed the letter, he searched through the possessions of his bunk mate until he found his purse. Gathering his belongings and the sack of coins, Wickham left to frank his letter and catch a ride with the post to London.
* * *
Elizabeth happily walked around the garden with her aunt in silence for a few minutes before speaking. “Aunt, I cannot tell you how wonderful it is to have you and Uncle here to visit us. With you here, we shall have a little more sense in the house.”
“We are glad to be here, as you know. So, Lizzy, what did you think of the service?”
“Mr. Collins is ridiculous, of course, but it is what Mary wants, so I suppose there is nothing more to say.”
Mrs. Gardiner leaned towards her niece as she enquired, “But what did you think about Reverend Watkins’ closing counsel?”
Elizabeth thought back to the ceremony and tried to recall what the reverend had said but could not find a single part that she could remember with clarity. She had been more engaged in her own thoughts at the time. She looked at her aunt and recognized that her relation had seen her distraction during the service. With contrition, she said, “I confess, Aunt, I was rather occupied in my thoughts and did not attend the reverend’s words.”
Her aunt smiled indulgently before giving her a look of concern. “I noticed, Lizzy. Will you not tell me what is bothering you?”
Elizabeth looked away from her aunt as she thought about whether or not to share the feelings in her heart. Her folly in allowing affection to develop for a man of Mr. Darcy’s station was great, but she also felt that it was materially lessened in its degree by not being generally known. She needed to put her feelings for Mr. Darcy aside, and that would be easier to do if they were not known to any beyond her own heart. Suddenly, she remembered her talk with her father and colored with embarrassment that he knew her feelings. It was definitely worse to have others know your mistakes, and so she decided she would not tell her aunt what was really troubling her.
Her aunt could tell she was being a little evasive but determined not to press the point. They continued their walk for a time, speaking of various and safer topics. After a while, they paused beneath a large oak tree and sat on a bench to listen to the birds.
Elizabeth’s thoughts returned, as they had frequently in the past few days, to Mr. Darcy. Her anger had begun to burn out, leaving only a few warm embers and pleasant memories of their time together. She accepted that the majority of her unhappiness could not be laid at Mr. Darcy’s feet as she was initially inclined to do when he first left the area. Since getting to know him better after her fall, she had found that he was generous and kind. She acknowledged that certain interludes in their acquaintance, especially during the ball at Netherfield, could not be explained as merely friendly but more on the level of romantic. This acceptance forced her to concede that Mr. Darcy probably did have feelings for her. Her heart spoke the truth of it even as she thought it. However, for whatever reason, his regard was not of a degree to keep him from leaving her, and for this she mourned.
With his removal to London, he would be amongst ladies of his own station and significance in the world and would soon forget her as she had nothing to entice him except a few lovely dances and memories. She looked up into the branches of the tree above her, and she was reminded of their day in the grove when she twisted her ankle. She blushed, remembering his tender touch and the deep timbre of his voice as he spoke.
With a touch of sadness, she realized that, with Bingley’s marriage to Jane, she would likely be often in his company in the future. Although the thought quickened her heart rate in anticipation, it also reminded her that, for his sake and her own, she should learn to live without him, as he would no doubt marry someday. Her presence might make him uneasy as a reminder of the few weeks he spent in her company in Hertfordshire. Just then, her aunt’s voice began to enter her consciousness.
“So what do you think of my idea, Lizzy?”
“Oh, forgive me, Aunt, I am afraid you caught me woolgathering. What is it you were saying?”
Her aunt’s face showed concern as she repeated herself. “I was just suggesting, Lizzy, that perhaps a change of scenery might be good for you. How would you like to come to London with your uncle and me for a few weeks after Christmas?”
Elizabeth’s mind raced quickly to Mr. Darcy again; she did not need to be pursuing him to the part of the country in which he lived. Then she remembered Bingley’s saying that Mr. Darcy usually spent Christmas and the New Year at Pemberley with his sister and so would not likely be in town while she was. She smiled to her aunt with real gratitude for her kind offer. “I should like that best of all, Aunt.”
“Then I will speak to your uncle and get your father’s permission. And I am sure your mother will consent to spare your help with the wedding preparations if we suggest you could retrieve a few things for Jane’s trousseau from the shops in London. What do you think?”
“You are very clever, Aunt. I think we shall manage a clean escape!” She laughed.
They stood to return to the house, and as they walked, Lizzy thought of her upcoming trip to London. Even if Mr. Darcy did remain in town for the holidays, she decided they were unlikely to move in the same circles, and she would be safe. Certainly, I may enter his vicinity with impunity and rob it of a few of its pleasures without his perceiving me. She smiled in anticipation of the new distractions that would help her recover from his charms. A few walks in Hyde Park, perhaps a visit to the theatre, and certainly some happy excursions to the shops with my aunt will do quite nicely.
* * *
Mr. Darcy rubbed his eyes and tried, once more, to focus on the document in his hands. It had been laborious to concentrate on the many items of business that required his attention since his return to London. He had not seen Elizabeth for over a week now, and for some reason, it was becoming harder rather than easier to forget her as he had hoped — especially since it seemed to be one of the few topics of conversation he could have with Georgiana that stirred any animation in the girl. He shook his head in puzzlement; why was Elizabeth such a source of interest to Georgiana, particularly after only one letter about her?
On his return a few days earlier, he had walked straight to the music room to see his sister. He had stood in the door frame and leaned his tired body against it as the sounds of her music washed over him. It was a great relief to be home in familiar and safe surroundings. Netherfield had begun to torture him as his memories of Elizabeth’s visit had caused her image to haunt the halls and rooms. He could easily conjure her features, reaching for a book in the library or walking the length of the drawing room. Indulging in those images was his particular choice of self-torture. Now, however, he was home, safe in a house to which she had never ventured before; her ghost could not haunt these halls.
When Georgiana had finished the piece, he clapped his hands softly so as not to startle her with his unexpected presence. She turned at the sound and smiled brightly at him. His heart leapt with hope that perhaps she was returning to her previously happy disposition.
“William! I have missed you.” She walked sedately towards him and accepted his embrace. “I did not anticipate your return so soon. Did you not enjoy your time in Hertfordshire?”
“Georgie.” He spoke his pet name for her tenderly as he mussed her hair a bit. “I missed you too, dear. Your playing has really improved. I enjoyed listening to it just now as I always do.” He leaned back to look at her face.
“Thank you.” She shyly lowered her head, and he led her to a sofa in the room.
“Tell me, dear, what have you been doing while I was away?” He listened as she related the same trivial things she had written about in her letters. His new hope for her recovery began to fade a little as he watched her mechanically speak of nothing at all. He reached for her hand and frowned when she flinched slightly. He did not think he would ever understand the workings of the female heart.
“You did not answer me, William. Did you enjoy your stay in Hertfordshire? I did not anticipate your return until just before Christmas.”
Her words pulled him from his thoughts; he had been mentally compiling possible solutions to Georgiana’s mood. He looked up at his sister when she spoke the name of her county and the reference to his stay there.
Clearing his throat, he spoke with feigned indifference. “I had a very pleasant time there. Bingley has let a fine estate, and the neighbors, although a bit provincial, were, for the most part, enjoyable.”
Georgiana was quiet for a time before finally deciding to broach the topic of most interest to her. Ever since her brother had written about a Miss Elizabeth Bennet, she had been fascinated. Her brother did not seem to realize that he had never before written of any lady in his letters. Although he had not mentioned having a particular regard for Miss Elizabeth, she recognized that something was significantly different about his relationship with this lady, or else he would not have written of her.
“You mentioned in your letter that Mr. Bingley was courting Miss Bennet. She is one of his neighbors, is she not?”
He furrowed his brows at her introduction of this new topic. What is she about? “Yes, she lives at an estate called Longbourn three miles away.”
“I see. So, Miss Elizabeth Bennet is probably going to marry Mr. Bingley?” Georgiana tried to hide her disappointment.
Mr. Darcy smiled slightly at the irony of having left Hertfordshire to avoid Miss Elizabeth, only to come home and have his sister eager to speak of her. “No, Georg
ie. Miss Jane Bennet is the eldest of five sisters and is the one Bingley is courting. Miss Elizabeth is her sister next in age.”
Georgiana suppressed a sigh of relief and sat up with a smile in her eyes that her brother had not seen in a while. “I understand now. You wrote in your letter that you had enjoyed talking to Miss Elizabeth. What did you talk about?” She wished she could think of a more plausible way to steer the conversation of Miss Elizabeth in the direction of what she really wanted to know — whether he had any feelings for the lady.
“We spoke of many topics. She enjoys the theatre and reads a variety of books.”
“Does she play and sing?”
Mr. Darcy watched her attempt to look disinterestedly around the room as she spoke. He puzzled over her duplicity and answered hesitantly, “She does. I have heard her many times.”
“Did you enjoy her performance? Was she very good? What kind of music does she play?” Georgiana’s interest was betrayed by her rapid speech and her brother laughed at her excitement.
“Georgiana, why all this sudden interest in Miss Elizabeth?”
Biting her lip, she regained control over her enthusiasm and accessed the familial Darcy talent of hiding her emotions from her face. She shrugged indifferently at his question. “I suppose I am just intrigued by what you have said about the lady. She sounds interesting and unlike so many other ladies I have met.”
Mr. Darcy ignored his suspicion for a moment to indulge his sister, as her animation on this particular topic reminded him of her spirit before Ramsgate. “Miss Elizabeth plays and sings very well. Though perhaps not as talented as some, her expression is excellent, and I have rarely heard anything I enjoyed more.” He paused, recollecting the last time he heard her sweet soprano voice. “You are right; she is quite singular and unlike any lady of my acquaintance.”
Georgiana detected the tenderness that infused his last statement and smiled to herself. “Do you think she is pretty?”