The Perfect Bride for Mr. Darcy

by Mary Lydon Simonsen

  Lizzy stood up, ran her hands over the creases in her dress, and returned her curls to their rightful place. Revisiting the scene time and again was doing her no good, so she decided to join Charlotte in the parlor. As she was going down the stairs, she heard the bell ring, and fearing for a moment that it might be Mr. Darcy with another letter, she went back upstairs. Please, no more letters! One is quite enough. However it was not Mr. Darcy, but Miss Anne de Bourgh, and she quickly returned to her room. A few minutes later, a servant knocked on the door to let her know that Miss de Bourgh was waiting for her downstairs. When Lizzy went into the parlor, she found her visitor was all alone.

  “It is very good to see you again, Miss Elizabeth,” she said, giving a slight bow, which Lizzy returned. “Mrs. Collins excused herself, as she needed to discuss the household accounts with her housekeeper, but she has ordered tea for us.”

  While Miss de Bourgh was removing her cloak, Lizzy noticed what fine features she had: thick, dark brown hair; beautiful, flawless skin; clear, blue eyes with long dark lashes; and the high cheekbones so favored by painters, but she also saw how she appeared to be as fragile as a porcelain doll.

  “Miss Elizabeth, may we sit nearer to the fire? I am quite chilled from the ride.”

  Lizzy moved a chair closer to the fireplace and offered her guest one of Charlotte’s heavier quilts. The day before, Charlotte had taken them out of the storage chest, guessing correctly that the warm temperatures could not last.

  “I hope you do not object to my unannounced visit. Since my cousins, Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam, are now gone, the house is quite empty—and silent. And I miss conversation. I very much enjoyed listening to you when you joined us for supper. You have such a sparkling wit.”

  “I do not think your cousin, Mr. Darcy, would agree with that assessment.”

  “Oh, I can assure you that you are wrong. He found your conversation to be engaging, even challenging. You gave him pause for thought, and in several instances, got the better of him—something quite new to his experience.”

  Lizzy rose to help the servant with the tea, but she also needed time to reflect on what was happening. Charlotte had deliberately made herself scarce because Lizzy knew that Monday was the day when she went over the household accounts with Mrs. Elvin. Today was Thursday. For whatever reason, Miss de Bourgh wanted to speak to Lizzy in private.

  “Shall we dispense with the formalities? If I may call you Elizabeth, you may call me Anne.” Lizzy smiled and nodded her assent. “I understand you are shortly to return home, and I did not want to miss an opportunity to visit with you before you left.”

  Anne picked up the teacup and clasped her hands around it for warmth. After taking a sip, which she needed because she was shivering, she continued.

  “Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Darcy, or Richard and Will, as I call them, are like brothers to me, and I shall miss them. We are very fond of each other and have been since we were children. Along with Richard’s elder brother, Lord Fitzwilliam, we are all very close in age, and we spent hours together in the playroom at Rosings. It is quite large—large enough to have a theatre for plays and a stage for puppetry, and our seamstress made the most wonderful costumes, each one having lots of feathers. We were very keen on feathers. We wrote the plays ourselves, and according to my father, Lord de Bourgh, the boys always kept the funniest lines for themselves.”

  Lizzy smiled at the thought of Mr. Darcy and the colonel on the stage. What would their plays have been about? Pirates, of course. Boys always wanted to be pirates with eye patches, earrings, and swords. Or possibly knights in shining armor with Anne playing the damsel in distress.

  “When Will was at Cambridge, Richard and I went to see him play cricket,” Anne continued. “He is a superior batsman, and to this day, he will boast of the time when his alma mater defeated Eton in two contests within a period of three days,” Anne said, smiling at the memory. “Did he ever mention it when he was in Hertfordshire?”

  “No, he did not. Our only opportunity to speak was on the dance floor—not the best place to learn about your partner, and Mr. Darcy left Netherfield Park shortly thereafter.”

  “How unfortunate—for both of you. Perhaps there will be other opportunities.”

  Not if Mr. Darcy had any say in it, Lizzy thought.

  “As I have said, he is very much like a brother to me, and when I find myself quite overpowered by my mother, I need only send a letter to Will, and he will come and rescue me. Before Mama leased our house in town, we spent many happy hours together during the season in London. I am not very strong, and I cannot dance more than one or two dances. But even though all the ladies were making such a fuss over him, Will was never far from my side.

  “Because of my health and the distance, I do not often visit the Darcy estate, but I have very fond memories of long summer days in Derbyshire. But, of course, now that Will is the master of Pemberley, everything is changed from when we were children. He holds himself to a very high standard. It is he who must visit all of the tenants. It is he who must know how many lambs were born in the spring and how much grain was gathered at harvest time. His tenants hold him in the highest regard, as do the villagers. He can hardly walk down High Street without people rushing out of the shops to greet him, and if you allowed him, the vicar would go on and on, singing his praises about his generosity and kindness to those in need.

  “And with all of these responsibilities, he tells me they are nothing compared to that of being his sister’s guardian. He is quite devoted to her. Georgiana is eighteen now, and as you can imagine, is very eager to come into society. He has done everything he can to prepare her. It was almost laughable to see him with her at the milliner’s shop. But she insists on hearing his opinion, as she is equally devoted to him.”

  Lizzy thought back to an evening at Netherfield Park when Caroline Bingley had asked Mr. Darcy if he admired her new bonnet. “Miss Bingley, as you well know, you will wear what is currently in fashion, and when it is out of fashion, you will stop wearing it. So if I said I liked your bonnet today, I might find come next spring that I must say that I do not like it. Wear what pleases you. I have no interest in such things.” And, yet, Anne was saying Mr. Darcy went with his sister to the milliner’s shop. Lizzy could just picture him, crossing and uncrossing his legs, and drumming his fingers on the top of his hat, when he was not pacing the floor. Lizzy wondered if he would have done the same for her if she had accepted him.

  “There are so many people who look up to him that I think the weight of his responsibilities has taken some of the joy out of his life. With so much to do and at such great distances, I have noticed he has less patience and his speech can be brusque and, therefore, easily misunderstood.” Leaning towards Lizzy, Anne added, with tears in her eyes, “He truly is the best of men, and it would pain me to think there was someone out there in the wider world who thought ill of him because they do not know him as I do.”

  Lizzy now understood the purpose of the visit. There was no doubt Mr. Darcy had shared with his cousin that he had made her an offer of marriage and her rejection of it. Her presence confirmed that he had related the details of the scene that had played out in this very parlor, and Anne was determined that before Lizzy returned to Hertfordshire, she would hear about the Mr. Darcy she knew and loved.

  Lizzy could hardly look at Anne. There was such longing in her face, and she wanted to reassure her. But what could she say? She sat quietly staring into the fire, and it was several minutes before the words finally came. When they did, they came from her heart.

  “Anne, I admit that when I first met Mr. Darcy he puzzled me exceedingly, and as you say, he can be brusque. But I have learned a great deal about him since those first days in Hertfordshire. I cannot speak for others, but I can assure you that I do not think ill of him.”

  Anne let out a sigh of relief. “I shall tell you, Elizabeth, that Mr. Darcy imp
roves upon acquaintance, and when next you meet, you will find him to be a much more agreeable fellow.”

  “That is a most unlikely event. Mr. Darcy and I do not move in the same circles in town, and it is my understanding that it is Mr. Bingley’s intention to quit Netherfield Park, which means I will not see him in the country either.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Life holds so many surprises,” Anne said, standing up. Although she was clearly tired from the visit, she looked quite content while Lizzy looked much less so. “May I write to you, Elizabeth?”

  “Of course, if I may write to you.”

  Taking Lizzy’s hands in hers, she said, “I shall not say good-bye because I am quite confident we will meet again.”

  As soon as Anne’s phaeton turned down the lane, Charlotte came rushing into the parlor. “Lizzy, what was that all about? When Miss de Bourgh asked if she could speak to you alone, I thought you had earned the ire of her mother, and she had come to warn you.”

  “No, nothing like that,” Lizzy said, shaking her head. “When Miss de Bourgh learned I was to return home, she wanted to visit with me before I left Kent.”

  “But you were in there for more than half of an hour. What was discussed?”

  “Little of importance, except how life does have its twists and turns, and that certainly is true. However, one can predict the future with some degree of accuracy based on one’s own knowledge of past events. And rare events do occur, but it is their lack of repetition that makes them rare.” Was it really possible that she would see Mr. Darcy again?

  “Lizzy, what on earth are you talking about?”

  “I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.”

  Chapter 8

  If the weather held, the carriage would arrive at the coaching inn at Bromley in about an hour. Once there, Fitzwilliam and Darcy would part company, and Darcy would be left alone with his thoughts. He had left Rosings Park an hour after he was sure Elizabeth had read his letter. He had seen her sitting outside the parsonage holding his letter to her breast, and he sensed that it had distressed her. And that memory would be the very last one he would have of her, and as Anne had predicted, he regretted having written it.

  “Darcy, you are contemplative this day,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said.

  “There are times when silence is beneficial.”

  Colonel Fitzwilliam and Darcy were exactly the same age, and the young Richard Fitzwilliam had spent many summers at the Pemberley estate. As young men, both had attended Cambridge, and from there, they experienced the Grand Tour of Europe’s great cities. Without a care in the world, the duo drank champagne at the Chateau de Crecy in Picardy, joined costumed revelers at Carnavale in Venice, saw Rome and its catacombs by torchlight, and danced into the early hours of the morning in Paris. They were traveling to the south of France when a rider intercepted them with a message from Pemberley: Darcy’s father was dead.

  In that one instant, Fitzwilliam Darcy went from being someone with few responsibilities to a young man who was now the master of a great estate. The staff, the tenants, the villagers, all would look to him to make decisions that would affect their everyday lives. But the greatest responsibility was that he was now the guardian of his sister, who had just celebrated her thirteenth birthday. Until Georgiana married, everything she wanted to do required his approval, and his decisions would chart the course her life would take. These changes in his circumstances had an immediate and permanent impact. Darcy was much more serious, and although Fitzwilliam was used to long rides with Darcy saying very little, even for him, no conversation at all was not the norm.

  “Darcy, it is quite obvious that something is troubling you, and I would like to think that you could speak of it to me.”

  “I have been preoccupied,” Darcy confessed. “As you know, since that episode with Wickham and Georgiana, I am ill at ease when we are apart. Once I am back in town and see that all is well, everything will be as it was before,” and Darcy turned his attention to the passing countryside.

  “Does your preoccupation have anything to do with Miss Elizabeth Bennet?”

  “What?” Darcy said, sitting up straight. “Why would you say that?”

  “On the evening Miss Elizabeth was at Rosings for dinner, I noticed how often you looked at her. She is a very attractive woman with an inquisitive mind and a sharp wit and is completely without airs. I was totally taken in by her. However, being the younger son of an earl, I cannot marry where I wish, so I do not form attachments for ladies with no fortune. On the other hand, you are rich, and you may marry whomever you please.”

  “Why are you speaking of marriage? You interpret my admiration for her technique in playing the pianoforte and a few glances in her direction as a prelude to a proposal. That is quite a stretch, Fitzwilliam.”

  “It will not do, Darcy. You were not admiring her technique; you were admiring her. And it was not a few glances. You could hardly take your eyes off her.” When Darcy said nothing, Fitzwilliam continued. “Let us suppose for the sake of argument that you are in love with Miss Elizabeth and that you would like to marry the lady.”

  “If I asked you to stop before you made yourself ridiculous, would you?”

  “No, because I think you want to hear me out. So let us examine what would happen if you chose to go down that path. Because of your position in society, you would be able to weather any storm that would ensue. You are rich and well connected, and as such, cannot be ignored no matter whom you marry. As for the matter of Elizabeth being the daughter of a gentleman farmer, theoretically, you are equal. She is the daughter of a gentleman, and you are the son of one. From my perspective, you lose nothing, but there is much to be gained.”

  “Richard, these are all fine arguments. But you obviously did not notice that Miss Elizabeth does not like me very much.”

  “That is because she does not know you as well as I do. She needs to see the man who cares so deeply for his sister or who will travel to Rosings to surprise Anne. She does not know of your kindness to me in keeping me out of poverty or in rescuing my brother from embarrassment. My advice to you is to seek the first opportunity that offers for the purpose of courting her.”

  The carriage pulled into the courtyard at the inn, and while the colonel waited for his horse to be saddled, he said, “If all I have said does not persuade you, think of my brother and sister-in-law, Lord Fitzwilliam and Lady Eleanor. You have seen them together, when they are together. Both have impeccable pedigrees, but they cannot tolerate each other and all of this was easily predictable. Will, pursue Miss Elizabeth. She will challenge you.”

  Pursue Elizabeth. Simple advice. But what Richard did not know was that he had already attempted to pursue her and was rejected with a vehemence that had stunned him: “I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry.” She would have accepted an offer from a dustman before she would have consented to marry him.

  Thinking back to that afternoon, he wondered at his own behavior, which was the antithesis of how he usually acted. It was spontaneous, irrational, and, in the end, self-defeating. He had never intended to ask Elizabeth to marry him, which was obvious by the mode of his declaration. He was working it through in his mind. Unfortunately, that process was spoken aloud, and not realizing that Elizabeth might find his musings to be offensive, he did not even look at her while he was pointing out her defects. If he had, he would have said no more. In his mind, he could now recall the pursed lips, the raised shoulders, the flashing eyes. He had seen eyes like that before, at Pemberley, when a bull had chased him out of a pasture.

  Well, what had been done could not be undone, so he would make his way to London. Once at home, his beloved sister would put him in a better humor.

  Chapter 9

  Darcy’s first opportunity to visit with his sister was in the early afternoon when she had finished her lessons with her German tutor. It was
not too long ago that she would have run across the room and thrown her arms around him, but within the last year, he had noticed that she walked in the measured steps of a lady before throwing her arms around him. These changes were inevitable, but he missed the complete lack of inhibition of her younger years.

  Georgiana was a talker, and although the intrigues of young ladies who had not yet come out into society were of little interest to him, Darcy listened to her as if she were discussing the debates in Parliament.

  “Will, must I continue with German? I hate it. I always feel as if I am spitting at someone. The only reason I have to study German is because the old king speaks it, and I very much doubt I shall ever have an occasion to address him in English or German. I have been declared to be proficient in Italian and French. May I please stop my German lessons?”

  “Yes, when you return to seminary after Twelfth Night, you do not have to study German.” He was entirely sympathetic on this point. He had never liked German lessons and did not do well at them despite his parents having employed a tutor from Saxony.

  Georgiana had been expecting her brother to insist that she continue and was thinking of additional arguments when he had given in. This was not like Will. A lot of discussion was required before any decision was made regarding her education. Looking at her brother, she wondered if something had happened at Rosings Park. She knew that a visit with Aunt Catherine was unpleasant because her constant negativity wore on everyone, but Will was very good at paying only enough attention so that he could answer a question if asked. He never engaged, as that only served to prolong the pain. Putting her hand on her brother’s arm, she said, “What is the matter, Will? You look so tired.”