by Suzan Lauder
Lady Catherine’s hands flew up, and Mr. Collins cowered. “Look what your lust has accomplished! You have killed my daughter! Darcy, come here and help your intended.”
“She has swooned, no thanks to your constant interference, never mind the expectations you caused her to imagine because you refuse to give her a life beyond useless dreams with your clergyman!” Mr. Darcy’s tone was exasperated as he strode over to Miss de Bourgh. As her weight was transferred from me to him, his fingers brushed my arm, and even though it was covered by my morning gown, the stimulating touch was enough to stun me for a few seconds. Mr. Darcy must have noticed it too because, as Miss de Bourgh fell onto him, his eyes bored into mine, dark and questioning.
I could not bear to watch him holding her in his arms when he looked at me in such a deep manner. He called out, “Does anyone have salts?”
As if summoned, my mother rushed into the room. “Forgive me, I have just now learned of our guests. Oh, my word, what has happened?” She glanced around as if searching for someone to blame for what she encountered. Her eyes rested upon me, squinting a little, but moved ahead to pause on Mr. Collins in a rather admiring gaze, and finally, they stopped their perusal when she saw my father. She was rightfully shocked to see him among the morning callers; he never made an effort at good graces. “What are you doing here? You should be in your library!”
And—bless him—my father was true to his nature of finding folly in his fellow human beings. “And miss the fun?” He grinned as he sat with arms crossed whilst leaning back in his chair.
“Pardon me, Mrs. Bennet, but do you have salts for Miss de Bourgh?” My mother drew out her vinaigrette with the same alacrity shown for every exciting moment of her adult life. She offered it up almost reverently, as if providing an article of great value to Mr. Darcy.
The care Mr. Darcy took for his betrothed affected me, and my throat became constricted, my palms cold and damp, and my eyes burned. I was nothing in comparison to her. She was a small, delicate, rich lady of his higher circle. I was not handsome enough to tempt him, too thin according to my cousin, too tall and too much a hoyden according to my mother—who had moments ago spent an extra half-minute trying to determine my guilt in the scene—and my portion was so small, it might as well be a governess’s salary.
Yet when Mr. Darcy looked up and into my eyes, his demeanour changed from grave and slightly irritated to genuine concern. His sweet lips mouthed the words, “What is wrong?”
I shook my head and mouthed back, “Nothing.” How could I state what I desired? I long for you to embrace me like that. My heart aches when I see you with the lady you love. A tear nearly escaped one eye, but I was quick enough to catch it with the back of my hand.
Mr. Darcy leapt to his feet and crossed the room to my side. It was fortunate that his cousin was now alert and no longer required his support because he dumped her on Mama. Curiously, Miss de Bourgh’s expression did not change; she evidently was not affected by the loss of his embrace.
“Miss Elizabeth, may I be of assistance?” Mr. Darcy’s voice was quiet and gentle.
“No, please, sir, do not be concerned for me.”
Our sweet moment was broken by none other than Lady Catherine. “Mr. Collins, I cannot sit by and watch this travesty. Darcy, you will go to your lodgings and gather your possessions. You and Mr. Collins will return with me to Rosings Park immediately.”
Mr. Collins’s eyes and mouth went round. Mr. Darcy’s brow furrowed, and his eyes glowered. “We shall not. Mr. Collins will stay here and complete his sojourn. Bingley, may I invite my relations to rest at Netherfield?”
Mr. Bingley nodded. “I shall send a servant ahead to have rooms prepared so Miss de Bourgh may have time to revive, um, refresh herself.”
Miss de Bourgh spoke up. “Mama, I want her—Miss Elizabeth Bennet—to accompany me. She seems a sensible sort of girl, and she is not one of my William’s former paramours.”
“Of course,” said Lady Catherine. She pointed at me. “You, pack a bag. Mr. Bingtree, have a room prepared adjoining my Anne’s so this lady can serve as her companion during our stay at your estate.”
What a horrible situation! The idea of being forced to act as a sort of temporary servant while listening to Miss de Bourgh’s lamentations on either Mr. Collins or Mr. Darcy could not be borne! Yet I had no choice as I could hardly confess the reasons for my protests.
Confusion reigned within the parlour for a few minutes as the officers suddenly begged to take their leave with various expressions from widened eyes to satirical smirks—the latter for Mr. Collins. Men! They admire when any man can get ahead with the ladies, even my imbecile cousin. My very attractive imbecile cousin. As handsome as Mr. Darcy.
Chapter 11
Nothing ever goes as smoothly as one expects, particularly following every sort of revelation of the heart and loins. The exit from Longbourn was one such situation.
Whilst I was instructing our lady’s maid regarding clothing to pack and send to Netherfield Park, raised voices came from the hall below where Lady Catherine, her daughter, and Mr. Darcy awaited me. Once again, Mr. Collins was stirring up trouble with his inability to keep his mouth shut. I could not make out the conversation, merely the raised voices of my distraught cousin and an angry Miss de Bourgh.
As I descended the stairs, his words became clear: he was cajoling her. “Dearest Annie! Though I deserve every ounce of your anger towards me, I humbly appeal to your sense of charity to desist this argument and remain as friends. My comfort of mind and the future of Hunsford parish depend upon your generous nature, and I do not want to part with difficult emotions separating us.”
“You are a fool, William, if you think I shall be friends with you after you have chosen a hussy. Fever, indeed. You told me my lips were soft—the petals of a summer rose.”
“But I never suckled your lips to know my mistake. I prefer honeysuckle.”
I had to stop my descent while the image of being kissed like that by a different man created warm sensations in me. Why do I not carry a fan? I squeezed my legs together to help alleviate the odd sensation in my nether regions prior to continuing down the stairs.
Before I reached the bottom step, Miss de Bourgh shrieked. She gave a mighty push to Mr. Collins, almost knocking him over, and darted out of the house as fast as her little legs would take her.
Lady Catherine offered Mr. Collins the blackest of grimaces with her lips pinched and her hands gathered into fists before she sailed out the door behind her daughter.
“Miss Bennet?” Mr. Darcy offered me his arm, and the warm feelings came back once again. My cousin was correct: the heat resembled a fever. Those feelings that had stopped me on the staircase were magnified in a way I never could have imagined possible. And all for Mr. Darcy! Who would believe that my estimation of this man had undergone such a profound change?
Before we were able to quit the room, Mr. Collins addressed Mr. Darcy. “Sir, I am distraught over your cousin’s lack of sensibility. She knew I fell in and out of love often. But if she and Lady Catherine are set against me, what shall my Charlotte and I do? Mr. Wickham mentioned a living at Kympton. Is it—or another in your charge—to become vacant soon? I could even take a lesser position in order to provide a happy home for my Charlotte.”
How could the man be such a fool to make this outlandish request yet still have my sympathy because of his deep devotion to my friend? In my frustration, I wanted to tear my hair out. Apparently, Mr. Darcy was similarly affected.
“Sir, as you know, I sympathise with your difficult situation, but I believe yours is a true love match. Every man wishes for affection—feelings for himself rather than his position or possessions. I shall see what I can do to help you if required. But be patient. My cousin and aunt will see sense as easily as you have.”
What a profound statement. To think Mr
. Darcy was sensitive about being pursued for considerations other than his character. Well, for the longest time, I was convinced he was too proud and conceited to care for the feelings of others, but he had shown me differently, and it changed my opinion of him as well. It is regrettable that his heartbreak must come from knowing his cousin had feelings for Mr. Collins. I hated to think of someone so sensitive in a loveless marriage, but it seemed to be his destiny.
When we stepped out of Longbourn, we were met by a frightful-looking Lady Catherine. “She did not go to the coach! She has fled, and I do not know where!”
“Anne?” asked Mr. Darcy.
“Yes! You must organize a search for her!”
“Be patient. I imagine she went into the garden or perhaps along a pathway from Longbourn. She cannot have gone far.”
Mr. Collins joined us. “Of what are you speaking?”
“You scared her away, you stupid fool! I shall have my work cut out for me in trying to restore your character when we get back to Rosings. It seems you have lost your mind here in Hertfordshire. You will learn the meaning of the words humility and chastity.”
Mr. Darcy took control. “Mr. Collins, since you know the way to Lucas Lodge, would you go in that direction and look for Miss de Bourgh?”
A sound erupted from Lady Catherine’s nose that was clearly intended to be derisive. It reminded me of Lydia, though more often than not, my sister made that noise in sarcasm and laughter. Mr. Collins agreed and promptly scurried away.
“Lady Catherine, do you see that little bit of wilderness there? Perhaps that is where she went. Would you humour me and look there?”
Lady Catherine declared the woods pretty and muttered she did not mind perusing the area, but she could be of better use. Even so, she shuffled towards the copse.
“Miss Elizabeth, you showed me the path to Oakham Mount, so if my cousin ran in that direction, I can ensure she finds her way back. Do you have any other ideas of where she may have gone?”
“Yes. Another path makes for a shortcut to Meryton. ’Tis faster than the road if one is on foot, and it is the way I walked to Netherfield to see Jane several weeks ago. I shall go that way.”
He gave me a brilliant smile that was more than warranted given the situation, and I could not help but grin back, overcome by the appearance of those dimples. How many was the smile count now? My mind went blank for a few minutes as I could not for the life of me remember numbers. I chastised myself. Shame on you, Elizabeth Bennet, so enamoured of the man that you forget a poor woman could be in harm’s way!
Harm’s way was a correct estimation. I was no more than three minutes along the path to Meryton when familiar voices came from behind the hedgerow to my right. The path was split there, and apparently, Miss de Bourgh took the route to a disused cabin. More to the point, so had Mr. Wickham! I stopped to attend to their conversation for a few minutes.
Mr. Wickham must have been the master of soothing because Miss de Bourgh no longer used the shrill tones of one overcome with disappointment and grief. Instead, she was as flirtatious as my sister Lydia. “I do remember you, silly man, even though I was only thirteen years of age. How could I forget someone so fine looking? But were you not to become a steward or something? I do prefer a man in a uniform!” She purred at the last.
“Ah, no, you must be mistaken. I was for the church, but the living was given to another.” That old line? How often did he try to get away with the sob story to win the hearts of ladies?
I rounded the curve as Miss de Bourgh tapped her fan on Mr. Wickham’s chest while fluttering her lashes. They stood far closer than propriety would insist. “I am sure you prefer marching to making sermons. Your figure is utterly fit!” She giggled before she saw me, and her mouth dropped open with surprise. She blinked at me with a blush on her cheeks that made her look more attractive.
Obviously, the heiress Mr. Wickham had attempted to elope with was not Miss de Bourgh—yet. But he wore one of his usual self-satisfied smirks while his eyes raked up and down my form. The lecherous scoundrel would never stop looking at women!
“Miss de Bourgh!” I was short of breath from running, and I panted my words as my body hung heavily from my bones. “You are wanted in Lady Catherine’s coach. We are ready to depart for Netherfield. As you requested, I shall join you.”
Like her flirtation with Mr. Wickham, Miss de Bourgh’s eye roll reminded me of Lydia. “Oh, pooh. Must I?”
I nodded. “It is for the best.”
She regarded Mr. Wickham with a sugary smile. “You are welcome to call tomorrow morning.”
“You may depend upon it, miss.” Right in front of me, he took her hand and kissed it. “Good day.”
The lady lifted her shoulders to her ears while the edges of her lips rose impossibly high and her eyes sparkled beneath fluttering lashes. “Good day, Mr. Wickham.” She looked almost pretty.
I forced my lips to twist into a shape resembling a smile to Mr. Wickham as I bent my arm for Miss de Bourgh to take. I cannot be held responsible for the fact that I could not control the toe of my slipper as it tapped impatiently until she took my arm. Similarly, when we began our walk back to Longbourn, I took no notice of her complaint that I was walking rather fast for her short legs.
“There you are!” declared her mother when we came within sight of the coach. “Where did you rush away to?”
“I required air for my nerves,” Miss de Bourgh replied with an insolent tone and a pout.
“You look well. Nothing to fuss over. Now we must call Darcy back. The sooner we can get away, the better.”
I volunteered to seek Mr. Darcy out on the Oakham Mount path, and Lady Catherine’s nose gave a slight twitch when she dismissed me for the task without gratitude.
By the time I reached the fork where Mr. Darcy and I had earlier enjoyed our revealing conversations, he was not to be seen. He must have been farther along the path than expected. Which direction had he taken? Then I heard his deep voice calling his cousin’s name, and I followed it to the right. Jealousy quickly rose within my breast as I wished I could engender similar tender regard from him as could Miss de Bourgh, but it was not to be.
By the time I caught up with him, I was tired from running along both paths and stopped to observe him for a moment. He trod carefully, perusing the sides of the walk. What a great deal of dedication for Miss de Bourgh! I called his name, and he halted his progress, turning back to offer me a wide smile in greeting that wiped away the hurt I had allowed myself to feel. I returned it with a genial grin. His stride was long and confident when he rushed to meet me. Of their own volition, my hands went forward so he could grasp them.
“Has she been found? Is she well?” Had he assumed this was the reason I was happy to see him? My face must have clouded over as he immediately reacted: he dropped my hands, and his smile changed to a mask of concern. “What happened? Is she injured?”
Once again, I wanted to be the person for whom his sensibilities overflowed. I had to tell him about Mr. Wickham, and neither of us would find pleasure in the conversation. “No, no. She is well…except for the company she was keeping.” The words came out in one great exhalation. Although it was unpleasant to replace the moment of happiness in our greeting with this sour topic, it had to be done. “She happened upon Mr. Wickham or the other way around. I know that you despise him for good reason and would be loath to allow even a casual acquaintance, yet they seemed to speak like old friends.”
“Yes, I must ensure the protection of my cousin that I did not for my sister.”
“Your sister?”
He grimaced. “Yes, the young lady with whom he attempted to elope was my younger sister, Georgiana.”
“But she is…fifteen? Sixteen? No older than Lydia!”
“Yes, yet he convinced her that she was in love with him and they must be off t
o Scotland. Thank God for her integrity and her faith in my support. Georgiana hesitated long enough for me to intervene before it was too late for her reputation. His object, aside from her fortune, was to injure me. His revenge would have been complete had he been successful. It would be less so with my cousin, but I expect he is working his old ways with her. I must warn Anne, or she will be his next marriage prospect.”
“Importuning Miss de Bourgh was probably on his mind, in particular because stealing your betrothed would pain you as much or more than attempting to elope with your sister.”
His brows dropped in the middle at the same time as his sweet lips dropped on the outer corners. Was he cross with me? Although I had learned to read his expressions, I still had a great deal to understand concerning his moods.
“You do not believe that story, do you? With what we have…? Excuse me, I suppose I must make myself clear so you are not misled by tales generated by those who fail to listen to reason.” He moved closer to me, so close that I had to tilt my head at a sharp angle to gaze into his face. “I am not, nor have I ever been, engaged to Anne de Bourgh. I am grateful for that fact because my heart—in spite of my struggles to keep it from becoming entangled—has been tempted and finally captured by one whose condition is so dramatically different from what I expected. So much below my own that I am overwhelmed at the potency of the tender feelings that developed within my heart.”
By this time, he had me fully confused. But his expression had changed. Softness dominated his chocolate-coloured eyes as well as his lips. I could not help myself and stared at those soft, sweet lips. A quick glance upward into his gentle eyes showed his gaze upon my lips and his mouth getting closer—much, much closer—to mine!
“I do not understand.” My voice did not sound at all like mine, and my statement came out on a sigh. My cheeks heated. I regretted how silly I was to be overwhelmed by his closeness. His head snapped back from its trajectory towards the kiss—at least, I thought he was going to kiss me.
