The Trials: A Pride and Prejudice Story

by Timothy Underwood

  He desperately wanted to talk to Elizabeth. She would say something to make him feel better. She might have wisdom to help him. Darcy turned towards the house to find her.

  Richard came out of the house at a furious pace. Darcy watched him, but he knew there was nothing he could say now to comfort his cousin.

  Darcy understood the pain of losing the one you loved.

  However, when Richard saw him he turned to walk towards Darcy. Richard had a flat cold face, and he gestured for Darcy to walk with them. The two went out of the garden and through the hedges till they were hidden from the house.

  “Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn.” Richard still carried his riding whip and he snapped it about, and with every curse he slashed at the blooming flowers, destroying a blossom.

  Darcy did not like to see the pointless destruction of the flowers, but he did not have any right to criticize Richard at the moment.

  A bee buzzed past them, but kept a respectful distance from Richard. A brightly colored yellow and black butterfly was not so wise, and when he saw it Richard tried to strike it several times from the air, succeeding with the third slash.

  Darcy put his hand cautiously on Richard’s shoulder. The man turned and snarled at Darcy. Then he deflated and threw the leather whip to the ground.

  “Damn her. How did she get you?”

  “Georgiana. Lady Catherine knows about Wickham, and she — she thinks it was far worse than it is, and she will tell Chancey a lurid tale if she does not get her way in this matter.”

  “That! That’s all? Are we still paying for your sister’s folly after all these years?”

  Darcy looked back stiffly. “It was my folly and yours, we were her guardians. It was our duty.”

  “And she shouldn’t have been turned by the first handsome face she saw.”

  “If she was, the fault was in the education I — we provided her.”

  “Now she is to destroy several more lives — but truly, is that all? Lady Catherine — whatever her other faults, she has always been steadfast in her adoration of our family name. She would not do it in the end.”

  Darcy looked to the side, over a line of trees heavy in their summer greenery, the branches flapping in the wind. He remembered his aunt’s voice and mannerisms. Her throne. The shouted command to sit.

  “Go into the house and tell her that you are calling the bluff — there will be some scandal since the marriage has been announced, and it will look poorly upon you — but those things do not last forever, while marriage does until death.”

  “I tried!” Darcy clenched his jaw angrily. “Do you believe I would have consented to this under any circumstance if I had not been fully convinced Lady Catherine would carry out her threat?”

  “And destroy the reputation of her sister’s daughter? Hardly.” Richard’s eyes took a calculating, menacing glint. “Are you certain you do not just wish an excuse to change your mind about Anne’s fortune? Now that you have spent so many years deciding you do not wish to marry a prettier or more personable creature?”

  “You love her, and yet you speak of her so?”

  “I know her inner value. But you — you want to marry her. That is why you will not prove the threat is empty.” Richard half raised a fist as though in preparation to strike Darcy.

  “What the deuce is wrong with you? Richard, gain a hold of yourself — I begin to think you may be mad as our aunt — and she is quite mad. She raved. She said she did not believe Georgiana to truly be of Fitzwilliam blood. And I do not know what idea she has concocted to gain that notion — but she will speak.”

  Richard blinked at Darcy. The moment hung in the thick, warm air. There was a smell that promised a thunderstorm, and the clouds had already gathered in the east. Richard unclenched his hand and ran his fingers through his balding hair. “Forgive me. I — I know you do not seek an accession of fortune. But — do not let protecting Georgiana destroy your own happiness.”

  “You wish to tell me that I should let Lady Catherine blacken my sister’s name, because of something I failed at.”

  “Perhaps. She is to be an adult. She must learn to deal with consequences.”

  Darcy turned away from Richard and walked a dozen feet down the road.

  Richard followed him.

  Darcy looked back. “It shall not destroy my happiness. I have sources in myself of happiness. Besides, Anne is not…” In truth Darcy found the prospect of marriage to his cousin deeply distasteful. He forced himself to not glance down to seek a word, but instead looked to the side. He pulled off one of his gloves. It was too warm for even the thin leather. “We will be able to live together peaceably.”

  “Live together peaceably! That is how you speak of a wife? But I forget — you have never been in love.”

  Darcy felt a sick anxiety open under him. It was something he’d closed away and forced himself to not feel or touch in his mind. He didn’t want to marry Anne. He wanted to find a true companion who he could enjoy speaking to and looking at, and who would make him feel alive. He desperately wanted to try to convince Elizabeth to alter her opinion of him. He loved Elizabeth.

  “Do not… Do not say that. I have known love. I have known what it is to have my heart broken, and I have known what it is to recover.”

  There was an edge of franticness in Darcy’s thoughts. He had a strange panic he’d never known before. A sense of walls closing off, and his life being robbed of opportunity.

  Richard sneered at him. “What is this? Some boyish infatuation you pretend was love, real love? I have never been told anything of this story.”

  “I fell in love with a girl, and she refused my hand. It was not so many years ago, but…I had reasons for refraining from speaking to you before, and after…I did not wish to think about it and my shame.”

  Richard stared at Darcy. Slowly the hardness in his look vanished. “This cannot go on forever. We are men. Our aunt forgets this. A man will snap eventually. You can only push a man worth being a man so far before he will slash you in return.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Try it again.”

  Emma frowned and glared at the sheet music. Elizabeth had just, ineptly, played the piece, to show something closer to how it was supposed to be done than Emma could manage. Neither of them had the patience or taste required to be truly proficient musicians, but Lady Catherine had several times complained about Emma’s slow progress in the art, and rapped the girl’s hand for it. So they had struggled with the keys for an hour each day for the past week, except that wonderful Sunday when Darcy walked with them in the park.

  Both of them had made steady progress. However, Emma should have a proper master if she was to get a really good notion of fingering and timing, rather than Elizabeth’s simple ability to play for the pleasure of the activity. However, Lady Catherine had full control of the money Emma inherited from her mother, and while Lady Catherine had hired a governess, she was unwilling to expend the money for a piano master to be brought regularly to Rosings.

  Emma played the tune once more, this time producing an almost respectable sound. Elizabeth decided it was time to encourage her with praise, so she clapped her hands and hugged the girl.

  “A vast improvement! Soon you shall play so beautifully everyone who hears will weep with emotion.”

  “Even Mr. Darcy? I liked him very much.”

  “Even him! Though I do not think he will weep easily. So you shall need to become very skilled with the piano to achieve that. So again.”

  Emma sighed, and, as she always did on these lovely summer days, she stared longingly out the window.

  “None of that. I wish to be outside as well, but you need to play.”

  Emma was halfway through the piece when Pamela entered the nursery. “You shall not believe the newest gossip.” She gestured out the nearby window. “Did you see the rider who came upon us an hour ago?”

  “I did not.” Elizabeth glanced at Emma who had stopped playing to listen, drawn, as Elizabeth had
been as well, by the magical promise of gossip.

  “It is the lady’s other nephew, or one of them. She has two more. But his name is Colonel Fitzwilliam, and he—”

  “Colonel Fitzwilliam!”

  “You know him too? Well he is not so handsome as Mr. Darcy.”

  “No, hardly, but he is a charming man. One whose conversation is quite able to set a woman at her ease and make her laugh. I liked him.”

  “The poor man.” Pamela lowered her voice and looked each way. “It is so shocking… I ought not tell you, but they were quite loud. I heard clearly from inside the servant’s passageway…”

  “Pamela! I will not listen to a story gained by overhearing. You know it is quite wrong.”

  Pamela pouted. So did Emma. Elizabeth added, “I am sure it is a story worth repeating. But I shall enjoy the curiosity all the better for not knowing.”

  “It relates to Mr. Darcy.”

  Elizabeth paused. Hesitating.

  “Ha! That perked your interest.”

  Elizabeth knew she certainly should not listen to something Darcy had said in confidence to his cousin. She shook her head.

  “I shall not let you tell me. It would be quite dishonorable.”

  “You are no fun! Quite boring. Boring. Booooring.” The young and rather disrespectful maid laughed, and turned to leave the room.

  She was stopped by Mr. Darcy entering the room. He was pale and his hair was disordered. His eyes darted to Elizabeth and then around the room. Elizabeth felt anxiety in the pit of her stomach that she was quite sure was being transferred by some spiritual connection from Mr. Darcy to her.

  Pamela curtsied deeply and immediately went to leave the room. Elizabeth said as she went out, “Emma, do go down to the kitchen with Pamela. Please, tell your aunt to give Emma some of that pastry she prepared this morning.”

  Pamela nodded, and Emma, with a lingering curious glance at Darcy, left the room.

  Darcy pulled a hand through his hair, leaving his locks piled high atop each other in a mess. He paced to the window and looked out. Then he shook his head and muttered something under his breath and turned as though to leave.

  Elizabeth stopped him with a calming hand on his arm. “Tell me. What is the matter?”

  “I…” He looked at her with his wide blue eyes. Then he stammered in a low voice, “You do not wish to hear. I am not sure I should say.”

  “Please. Unburden yourself. I want to know anything you wish to tell me.”

  “It is about my cousin. He is here.”

  “I was just told. But tell me what the matter is. If you cannot tell him, you have no one else here who you can give the story to.”

  Darcy looked back out the window.

  Elizabeth looked at her hand still on the shoulder of his coat. She began to feel awkward and wondered if she had been too forward.

  Darcy began to speak. “I knew. She told me that she was in love with another man. But… I do not think I believed her capable of it. I seem to think poorly of my betrothed. She said she could not refuse her mother in any case. Maybe Lady Catherine has some control over her such as she does over me. Maybe it is not just cowardice.”

  “What did you discover?” She pressed her hand into his arm. A reassuring touch.

  “They love each other. My cousin, my dearest friend, and the woman I must marry. They are in love, and I have no choice but to stay between them. I can see no other choice. What would you do in my situation? Elizabeth, I feel terrible.”

  Elizabeth saw the pain in his eyes before he looked away, as though he was ashamed of his vulnerability.

  Elizabeth had never felt so much affection for Darcy as she did in this moment when he came to her in his hurt. But she did not know what to advise him. She wished to tell him to end his engagement to Anne and marry her. But that would be selfish, and Elizabeth did not know if Darcy’s tender feelings towards her still existed. Even if they did, Elizabeth could not leave Emma.

  She said at last, “You are a good man.”

  “My cousin! I cannot — but he is also Georgiana’s guardian. He wishes me to end it with Anne. His duty goes in the same direction as mine. But…I do not wish this. I do not want to marry her. There is nothing I wish less at this moment. Richard suspected my motives and thought I wish Anne’s fortune. I know he is wrong, but I cannot be angry at him now. I know what it is to have a heart broken. A man is not himself at such a time.”

  Elizabeth touched his arm again. She said something reassuring in a quiet, soft voice, though she had no real sense of what she said.

  Darcy took her hand and pressed his own fingers into hers. “I do not know the right thing to do. Even were I to expose us all to Lady Catherine’s anger, Anne would not make her own choice to fight for her happiness. Her sole hope of happiness was that Lady Catherine would die before ordering her to marry. Richard sees it as my choice alone. She could have refused me. A woman can refuse, even against the wishes of her mother. It is not churlish to believe it is her responsibility to do so. You had no difficulty in making a refusal.”

  “No. I…” She felt as though she had made a terrible mistake then. “But I…”

  “Lady Catherine may be more formidable than your mother. But Anne is weak. She always has been.”

  Elizabeth squeezed Darcy’s hand.

  He let out a long breath and let go of her hand. He looked at the window and stood taller. “I am unhappy, but I will not wallow in such feelings.”

  Tears entered Elizabeth’s eyes.

  Darcy looked at her. He brushed at her cheek with one finger. “Don’t cry…please don’t. Not for me. Lizzy, I…thank you. From the depths of my soul I thank you. You were so kind to listen to me. But don’t cry.”

  “I cannot help it.”

  “I needed to speak with someone. With you. I am more settled. When I can speak to you in such a way…it does leave me feeling happy, and almost content. But I cannot be really happy, not now. If only…”

  “Yes.” They looked into each other’s eyes. Elizabeth breathed out her desperate wish for a world in which she could take back her foolish, youthful refusal and marry him. “If only…”

  The door opened again. When they heard the knob turn Elizabeth and Darcy unwillingly moved apart. Elizabeth felt sadder than she ever had before, and happier. She’d thought that she had experienced the full range of human emotions, but that was not true. It was new, and it was precious. This intense bittersweet emotion that filled her now that she understood Darcy still loved her.

  Colonel Fitzwilliam entered the room. “Darcy, I must apologize. I was distraught — I should never have spoken to you in that way — oh, pardon!”

  The past years had not improved his appearance. He was half bald now, and he had an ugly purple scar along his cheek. There also was a hardness that seemed to stick about him which had not been there in the fashionable young gentleman she remembered.

  Elizabeth smiled at him and held out her hand to him. “Hello, it is good to see you again.”

  He peered at her, before exclaiming, “Good God! Miss Elizabeth Bennet.” He took her hand and shook it. “What do you do here?”

  “I am the governess to Lady Catherine’s ward, Emma Williams.”

  “No! The illegitimate brat? And you a governess?”

  Elizabeth pulled her hand away coldly and frowned.

  Darcy spoke sharply. “She is a fine girl. A sweet and clever creature who Elizabeth is most attached to.”

  Colonel Fitzwilliam looked at Darcy and then back at Elizabeth. “I apologize, Miss Bennet. I should not insult your charge — a woman like you! You deserve better than such a post.”

  Colonel Fitzwilliam had left the door open, and Emma entered again, carrying something in her hand and with a bit of jam on her cheeks. She hurried over to Elizabeth’s side. “Mrs. Shore told me to give this to you,” she said handing Elizabeth a slightly crushed pastry. Half hiding behind Elizabeth she looked at the new gentleman with curiosity.

 
; “Emma, this is Colonel Fitzwilliam, another nephew of Lady Catherine.”

  “We did meet you once before. When you were first here.”

  Emma nodded and smiled at him a little before looking towards Elizabeth again.

  Colonel Fitzwilliam turned to Darcy. “I need a fencing partner, and I can think of no one else I’d rather swing a sword at than you.”

  Chapter Nine

  Dinner had been dreadful.

  It was always a terrible bore with Anne and Lady Catherine. About half the nights some guest had been invited, most often Mr. Hawdry the local magistrate, who was a close friend of Lady Catherine. Her guests were usually quite old, and they thought like Lady Catherine and admired her excessively. Dinner with Lady Catherine’s friends bored him almost as much as dinner with Anne and Lady Catherine.

  He’d been ordered by his aunt to stay at Rosings until the wedding, and he would stay. He would elaborately display that he had stayed at dinner each night.

  Richard’s presence added awkward to boring. Richard tried to keep conversation going, but it was desultory. He and Anne looked at each other constantly, sometimes without bothering to hide their gaze from Lady Catherine. Lady Catherine took the silence of everyone else as a fine reason to lecture Richard about his dress, about how best to manage his regiment, and about how they had made a terrible mess of things by exiling Napoleon again instead of executing him.

  “Mark my words! I do not care that he is stuck on an island in the midst of the vast ocean, and guarded by the whole fleet of Britain. That cunning creature will find some way to gain the loyalty of his jailors, and then he will take a ship back to Europe and raise another army and this time he will win. Wellington said Waterloo was a close-run thing — next time we’ll lose, and he will cut all our heads off.”

  Richard rolled his eyes. “The crown hardly asked my opinion — though I would never have suggested he be executed. He broke his parole, but in every other respect he proved to be an honorable opponent. He had no need for blackmail to achieve his purposes. He built up his family. He did not care who was the eldest and who was the second son. In some families people care for their relatives only if they are first sons and rich. But Napoleon gave his brothers responsible positions and kingdoms.”