Believing in Darcy: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

by Renata McMann

  She crossed the room, leaning down to examine the entry. It was written clearly, for her father. Elizabeth wondered if he truly couldn’t read it, or had seen her feelings and elected to change the subject. If so, she was happy to go along. “The barley is doing well in the rock field despite it not having rained in a fortnight,” she read.

  “The rock field?” he asked with raised eyebrows.

  His eyes were a rather pleasant shade of green, Elizabeth noted, straightening from peering at the ledger. “It has a big rock in it. Too big to move.”

  “So, all I have to do is find the field with the big rock,” he said with a smile.

  Elizabeth answered with a smile of her own, her first real one in days. “It could never be that simple.”

  “No?” he asked, his green eyes alight with amusement. “Why am I not surprised?”

  “The rock has been there for ages. For longer than the field, I imagine. When I was small, my father tried to move it. He brought horses and ropes, and they dug down, looking for the widest point to tie the ropes around.” Elizabeth knew the story well. She could all but hear her father’s amused voice as he told it. “The farther the men dug, the bigger the rock became, until it was as large as a table and only growing. Unwilling to be defeated, my father had them take picks to it. They chipped away the top and covered it with dirt. I think the rock is at least a foot and a half underground. They plant over it, but the crops on top of it are always stunted. I can show you where it is.”

  To her surprise, Mr. Collins stood. “I should like nothing better.”

  “Now?” Elizabeth asked.

  His expression turned sheepish. “It’s that or keep hiding in here. I’m terribly afraid of your mother.”

  Mr. Collins’ look was so expressive of mock fear, Elizabeth was nearly moved to laugh. “Well, we can’t have you closeted here the entire day.”

  “Mr. Collins, I was--” Kitty broke off as she saw the two of them standing across the desk from each other. She frowned. “Elizabeth. Why are you in here?”

  “Your sister has agreed to show me where the rock field is,” Mr. Collins said with an affable smile.

  “I know where it is.” Kitty’s tone was oddly aggrieved.

  “Perhaps you would care to accompany us, Miss Kitty?” Mr. Collins asked.

  “May I?” Kitty asked, looking at Elizabeth.

  “I can’t imagine why not. I’m sure fresh air will do us all good,” Elizabeth replied, unsure why her normally impertinent sister was asking her permission. She turned back to Mr. Collins. “We’ll get our hats and meet you in the foyer.”

  “I’ll be waiting,” he said with another smile.

  ***

  The Lucases insisted Darcy stay with them. He was pleased to accept. He could have gone to the inn in Meryton, but his servants’ investigation of it informed him he wouldn’t care for the establishment. At Netherfield, Darcy would have enjoyed greater comfort than could be had at Lucas Lodge. He knew Bingley’s servants would let him reside there, but it seemed wrong to take advantage of that.

  Darcy also admitted to himself that he didn’t want Bingley’s servants to report he was spending time in Hertfordshire, as he’d been party to insisting they leave the area. If Darcy went to Netherfield, Bingley’s servants would be obliged to inform him. As it was, Darcy had no means of preventing them from passing along the information. He doubted local gossip was part of any typical correspondence with their master, though.

  Settling into his loaned room, Darcy took in the rather austere surroundings and assured himself he was not, of course, residing in Lucas Lodge because of the proximity to Elizabeth. That would be foolhardy indeed.

  When Darcy joined the family for breakfast the first morning of his stay, he was surprised to find the table less crowded than he’d expected. Thinking back, he couldn’t recall exactly how many children the Lucases had, but he felt there were fewer now. He greeted Sir William and Lady Lucas, as well as Mrs. Collins and Miss Maria Lucas. He was reintroduced to the eldest son, John Lucas, and two youngsters named Susan and Arthur.

  Darcy seated himself. Curious, but aware sometimes seats were empty due to tragedy, he said, “I thought you had more children living at Lucas Lodge.

  Lady Lucas shook her head. “Not today. Our other two grown sons, whom you may recall. Benjamin and Frank, are in London. They’ve both decided to go into business. Benjamin is with Sir William’s former partner and Frank is with my brother.”

  “What brought that on?” Darcy asked, endeavoring to politely carry his end of the conversation. It was the least he could do given their hospitality and, perhaps, Mrs. Collins would mention his good manners to Elizabeth. He longed to have her know she was wrong about him being excessively snobbish.

  “After Charlotte married, the boys asked if her leaving meant there would be more for each of them,” Lady Lucas said.

  Beside Darcy, Sir William shook his head, whether at his wife’s words or his sons’ hopes, Darcy didn’t know.

  “Sadly, there really isn’t,” Lady Lucas continued. “With seven children, there really can’t be more, especially if John is to have enough money to keep Lucas Lodge. That leaves only Maria, Susan, and Arthur for us to provide for.”

  “It was generous of you to offer to take in Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy said. He hadn’t realized how generous until then.

  “It’s the least we can do, what with her saving our Charlotte.” Sir William smiled at his daughter before reapplying himself to his plate.

  “I’m sure it won’t be much of a strain on us,” Lady Lucas said. “She’s pretty enough so I expect her to marry in a year or two, at most. So many suitors were put off by her family, but we won’t frighten them away.”

  “Hush, dear,” Sir William said. “That’s unkind to our old friends.”

  “Unkind, but true,” Mr. Lucas said. “No man in his right mind could meet her mother and still wish to wed her.”

  Darcy should have felt vindicated by Mr. Lucas’ statement. Instead, he found himself eyeing the younger man with mild suspicion. Did Lucas mean himself? He wasn’t ill put together, and he would inherit Lucas Lodge, a place which must be dear to Elizabeth. Once she was under his family’s roof, would the deterrent of her mother still apply?

  “Elizabeth and her sister Jane are delightful people,” Mrs. Collins said. “They will both marry well.” A smile flittered across her face. “It was difficult to miss the look on Mr. Collins’ face as he took in Jane, Elizabeth and Kitty seated at the table yesterday. A man couldn’t ask for a more appealing selection.”

  Darcy noticed she left Miss Mary Bennet out of her list, though she’d been at the table as well.

  “If their mother didn’t scare him off,” Mr. Lucas said.

  “John.” Sir William’s tone was quelling, effectively ending that line of conversation.

  Darcy let his manners lapse, his thoughts drifting to Elizabeth. Even now, she was in the same house as the man who might inherit Longbourn. She must already realize, as he now did, that her situation wasn’t as stable as he’d hoped. The Lucases could easily decide they had enough of Elizabeth after a while. Part of him whispered that it served her right. She had the opportunity for financial stability, but she threw it away.

  Somehow, he couldn’t take satisfaction in that.

  “Mr. Darcy,” Mrs. Collins said. “If I may impose on you, would you be willing to visit Longbourn after breakfast? I want to make sure Mrs. Bennet isn’t giving Mr. Collins too much trouble, or refusing to leave. I have the suspicion you’ll get a more favorable reception than I would.”

  “Of course,” he said, trying not to sound as eager as the request made him feel. He took a sip of coffee, wondering how he could remove the longing to see Elizabeth that sprang up in him.

  “Thank you. It’s very kind of you to act on my behalf.”

  Darcy nodded. “I’m here to do so.”

  That decided, it was all Darcy could do to remain at the table a polite length of t
ime. As soon as he was free, they set out for Longbourn. It was a fine day, though a touch warm, but Darcy had little mind for the weather.

  Chapter Nine

  There’s little sense in passing judgement on oneself.

  Darcy was halfway to Longbourn when he spotted Mr. Collins looking out over a field of turnips. On either side of him stood Elizabeth and Miss Kitty. They didn’t see him approaching, seeming quite engaged in their conversation. Darcy tried to tamp down his resentment over the easy manner Elizabeth appeared to have with her cousin.

  “. . . previous year there was barley and next year will be wheat,” Elizabeth was saying as Darcy drew near. “It’s turnips this year, but won’t be again for four more. Instead, they’ll be planted in the second field we saw.”

  “The Norfolk four-course system,” Darcy said.

  The three of them turned around, all looking slightly surprised.

  Darcy bowed. “I don’t mean to intrude.”

  “Not at all.” Mr. Collins offered an amiable smile.

  “Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth greeted, her expression unreadable.

  “Hullo Mr. Darcy,” Miss Kitty said, smiling.

  Darcy nodded to both.

  “You know this Norfolk system, Mr. Darcy?” Mr. Collins asked.

  “We employ it on some of the farms.”

  “I’m dismally ignorant about farming. I’m lucky the Miss Bennets are so well informed, and amiable to enlightening me.” Mr. Collins’ smile was rueful. “I can barely milk a cow.”

  “You got some practice last year,” Darcy said, recalling that was one of the charitable tasks Mr. Collins had engaged in for his parishioners.

  “I did it badly.” Mr. Collins offered a self-deprecating grimace.

  “I believe I heard something to that effect.” Darcy kept is tone light, though he was almost angered by how likeable Collins was, and how Elizabeth was looking at the man with interest.

  “I didn’t think you realized who I was,” Mr. Collins said, the statement nearly a question.

  “I saw no reason to mention it.”

  “How do you know him?” Miss Kitty asked.

  “Mr. Collins has a living in East Lambton,” Darcy explained. “It’s a very small town, not far from Pemberley. Some of his charitable works came to my attention.”

  “Really, it’s not much of a tale,” Mr. Collins cut in. “I’d much rather learn more about this Norwich farming system.”

  “Norfolk,” Elizabeth and Miss Kitty corrected in unison.

  “What charitable works did Mr. Collins do, Mr. Darcy?” Miss Kitty pressed, watching Mr. Collins.

  Darcy took in Mr. Collins’ discomfiture, and the budding adoration in Miss Kitty’s look. It was enjoyable to be able to speak of someone behaving well, he realized. Especially someone who didn’t seek or want praise, and who Miss Kitty appeared to care for more than Elizabeth did. “A family fell ill. First a child, then the mother and then the father. Mr. Collins went to their farm every day, milked the cows and took care of their other livestock. Then he came down with it.”

  “I recovered,” Mr. Collins said, unnecessarily, still looking embarrassed.

  “But he spent so much time helping them, he hadn’t planted his own garden. Then it rained a good deal. The parsonage has a reasonable amount of land with it, but the ground is both hilly and rocky. He’d spent a lot of the winter using the rocks to terrace some of the ground. It would have been a shame to see that forethought and his charity both go unrewarded.” Darcy stopped, suddenly a bit embarrassed himself.

  “In what way was he rewarded?” Elizabeth prodded as silence drew out, her assessing eyes on Darcy.

  “Equitably,” Darcy replied, hoping that would be an end to the conversation.

  As if sensing it was Darcy’s turn to suffer for his good deeds, Mr. Collins grinned. “Mr. Darcy sent out a crew of men to finish the terracing and plant the garden. I was, and remain, exceedingly grateful for his help.”

  Darcy shrugged. “You wrote a very nice letter thanking me.”

  “I suppose the family was grateful too,” Miss Kitty said, gazing at Mr. Collins.

  His smile turned into a wince. “Somewhat. The man complained I didn’t milk the cows enough, which meant they didn’t give as much milk when I was done.”

  “It was still very good of you,” Elizabeth said.

  Mr. Collins looked embarrassed again. He gestured to Darcy. “Mr. Darcy did something extra for me. His men came out the next day and planted four apple trees. One has two apples on it.”

  Collins’ ploy to put the sisters’ attention back to Darcy only partially worked. Elizabeth did turn to him. Her thoughtful expression was oddly warming to Darcy.

  Miss Kitty still watched Collins. “You’re lucky. It usually takes a couple of years to get apples. It must be your reward for being so kind to that ungrateful farmer. If you were kind to me, I should never be so rude about it.”

  Looking uncomfortable, Collins turned back to the field of turnips. “You were showing me the fields. I already forgot the name of this one.”

  “That one is North Field,” Miss Kitty said, also turning.

  Mr. Collins glanced around at the sun and shadows. “But Rock Field is farther north than North Field.”

  “Rock Field was purchased later. Come, I’ll show you where the old property line was, so you can see why the south and north fields have their names.”

  With a gesture, Miss Kitty set off along a narrow strip of grass beside a low rock wall that separated two fields. Mr. Collins followed obediently. Instead of joining them, Elizabeth turned to Darcy.

  “It’s nice of you to help Mr. Collins,” Darcy said.

  Her lips turned up ever so slightly at the corners. “I was about to say it was nice of you to help Mr. Collins.”

  “He seems to inspire helpfulness, doesn’t he?” Darcy gestured toward Miss Kitty and Collins.

  Elizabeth shrugged, not turning. “Yes, but our help doesn’t cost us anything.”

  “As I said, I didn’t think it would be right for him to be punished for a good deed.” He refrained from adding that the expense had meant little to him. She would take that as bragging.

  She nodded, looking as if she would turn away. Darcy didn’t want to rejoin the others. He wanted Elizabeth to himself, even knowing nothing could come of it. “Where is Pine Cottage.”

  Elizabeth turned, pointing. “Over that hill. You can’t see it from here.”

  “Dare I ask if it’s recognizable because it has pines in front of it?”

  “Oh, no. It was named after a Mr. Pine.”

  “Really?”

  “No,” she said with a touch of mischief in her voice. “There are no pines, though. Not anymore, at any rate. The last one was struck by lightning a few years back. It was a huge tree, towering over everything around it.”

  They lapsed into silence while he sought something else to say. She started to turn, as if to rejoin her sister and Mr. Collins, who were increasingly small splashes of color in the distance.

  “I’m sorry for the loss of your father,” he said. He forced his face to be expressionless, not wanting her to mistake the meaning of his ire. It was for his own lack of polish.

  “Thank you.” She looked down, all joy leaving her.

  Darcy pressed his lips into a thin line. He wished he knew how to express the depth of his unhappiness on her behalf. His sorrow was both for the loss of the father she clearly loved, as well as for the loss of financial security. Seeing her standing there, downcast, he wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms and comfort her.

  He shook his head. That would never happen.

  Elizabeth let out a little sigh. “Since we’re speaking on unhappy subjects, I feel it is right for me to apologize for believing the lies Mr. Wickham told. I’m embarrassed to say it, but I was fooled by his pleasant manner into believing he was an honorable man. In doing so, I decided you were not. I’m sorry to have misjudged you.”

  “I’m
sorry you did as well.”

  She raised her eyebrows.

  “That is, rather, thank you for your apology,” he amended, though he could tell by her expression he’d blundered again. “It is accepted.”

  “It wouldn’t have been needed if you had explained the nature of your relationship with him, instead of simply glowering all of the time,” she said, sounding annoyed.

  “I’ve never felt the need to explain myself. I was taught, and believe, that actions declare a man’s worth more truly than appearances.”

  “But unless people know of your actions, they judge by appearances.”

  “They shouldn’t,” Darcy said.

  “Oh?” Her tone was crisp. “How do you judge people you know nothing of, Mr. Darcy? Say, an assembly of people you’ve just met, in a town you’ve never been to before?”

  Darcy remained silent, thinking that over. How had he judged the people of Hertfordshire that first night? By what he supposed about them based on where they lived and how fine their attire was. What was that if not appearance?

  “I am not outright condemning it.” Elizabeth’s tone had softened. “People judge by what information they have.”

  “Appearances?”

  “Yes, appearances. It’s what they have.” She leaned nearer, her expression earnest. “It’s reasonable, and acceptable. What is neither of those things is later failing to amend an opinion when new information is at hand but, as I said, that information must be provided.”

  “Even if we are told, ‘But when thou doest alms, let not thy left hand know what thy right hand doeth?’” Darcy quoted.

  She smiled slightly. “Is that what you do, Mr. Darcy? Good deeds in secret?”

  “Not in secret,” he mused, not entirely sure himself why he was so uncomfortable with praise for good deeds. “I simply don’t care to bandy them about.”

  “Like what you did for Charlotte.” Elizabeth’s look was thoughtful. “How many people know about that?”

  “Quite a few.” Worried she might misunderstand what he meant, he continued. “You know, as does Miss Lucas. The servants at the rectory know. I told Lady Catherine, my cousin Anne, and Colonel Fitzwilliam. That probably means most of the servants at Rosings know. I wrote my attorney asking what legal repercussions there might be for me. Because I wanted to act before I received a reply, I also consulted an attorney in Kent. I told my valet and coachman, and they probably told my other servants. Mrs. Collins let her family know. I did not follow the Biblical injunction. Besides, I did very little.”