Willow Hall Romance

by Leenie Brown

  “Yes, I have.” Darcy’s answer was short, which to anyone who knew the man as Philip and Lucy did was a sign that there was information he did not wish to impart at this time — perhaps later in a more private location, but not as they were in a group.

  “My father’s estate borders Netherfield,” Elizabeth explained feeling the need to fill the moment’s silence that followed Darcy’s answer. “It is not more than a three-mile walk.” Her heart was still racing, but her mind had begun to function more normally. They could meet as friends; surely he would be willing to do so. She cast a questioning look towards him, and thankfully, her mind fell upon a topic which might put everyone at ease. “Mr. Dobney, Mary Ellen,” she said turning toward them, “Mr. Darcy could tell you about Jane. I believe he knows her to some extent, and his opinions may be less partial than mine, for I do tend to see only the best in her.”

  Darcy looked startled for a moment. “I know very little of her. I fear I might do her a disservice.”

  “Not purposefully, I am sure,” Elizabeth said softly. “You seem the sort of man who would never injure another without cause. I am not wrong, am I?”

  Darcy searched her eyes. Did she mean what he thought? Had his letter served its purpose in correcting her misconceptions? Might she welcome his presence? “You are not wrong.”

  She smiled and her stomach flipped as he smiled in return and the wall that seemed to part them crumbled at her feet.

  “Miss Bennet, Jane,” he clarified, “is,” he paused, “an angel. She is both beautiful and kind. She seemingly keeps her emotions under good regulation. She did not complain once while she convalesced at Netherfield — and she was quite ill.” He tilted his head and looked at Elizabeth. “As far as I could tell, she has but two faults. She is altogether too pleasant, and she smiles too much.” He could not help the delight he felt as he saw Elizabeth’s brows raise and her eyes sparkle.

  “And it is a good thing she does,” Elizabeth replied, “or I would not have seen a smile the entire time I was at Netherfield.”

  Darcy chuckled. “Bingley smiles.”

  “Very true. I have been corrected once again.” She turned to Mary Ellen. “If it had not been for Mr. Bingley, my stay would have been very,” she tapped her lip as she considered her choice of description, “dreary.”

  “Dreary?” Darcy said in surprise.

  “Yes, Mr. Darcy, dreary.” Elizabeth tilted her head. “Or do you prefer dull, mundane or prosaic?”

  “Surely, it was not so bad as that,” interrupted Mary Ellen. “I cannot imagine Mr. Bingley allowing it to be so.”

  Elizabeth laughed. “Indeed. Mr. Bingley is as lively as he is pleasant.”

  Darcy agreed with the statement but refused to allow that he, himself, had been dreary. “I was not silent, and I did not stay in my rooms. I think I did an admirable job of being pleasant considering the circumstances.” He smiled at Mary Ellen who was looking rather confused. “Bingley’s sisters.”

  Elizabeth heard Marcus groan softly. Apparently, Hertfordshire was not the only place where Caroline and Louisa were not admired.

  “Ah, Mr. Darcy,” Mr. Abbot exerted himself into the conversation. “It is a pleasure to see you, sir. All is well, if that was the purpose of your call. The fence has been fixed and the sheep are happy for it.”

  “You must come in and have some refreshment, Mr. Darcy,” added Mrs. Abbot. “Travelling even a short distance on such a dry day can make one thirsty.”

  Darcy bowed and accepted her offer. He would call every day to check on Willow Hall and its tenants if it meant he could spend time with Elizabeth. He fell into step with her as they entered the house. “Why am I telling my friends of your sister?”

  “I have just had the most delightful letter informing me of her arrival in a week’s time.”

  “She is coming to Willow Hall?”

  Elizabeth nodded. “She is travelling with my aunt and uncle Gardiner. Aunt Gardiner and Mrs. Abbot are sisters, you see. Uncle had planned to take me with them on a trip around the lake district, but his plans had to be altered. So, I was sent on ahead, and now Jane shall be able to accompany them.”

  “Will you be staying long at Willow Hall?” he asked hopefully. If she were staying, he might have a chance to convince her of his worth.

  “Two months complete.”

  Darcy looked about the room. The others had taken seats and were in discussion with each other, but he still spoke quietly even though they were a few paces away from the others, standing just inside the door to the room. “Might I call on you and introduce you to my sister?”

  A small amount of peace washed over her. He was not averse to remaining acquaintances. “It would be an honour, sir.”

  “I must return to London next week, but at the end of the month, I shall return. Georgiana will stay behind at Pemberley. Lucy will see that she is well, and if you will visit, I shall not worry about her being bored or lonely while I am gone.”

  Elizabeth could hear the care and worry in his voice for his sister.

  “You should know,” he continued after a short pause, “Bingley and his sisters will be with me when I return.”

  “Mr. Bingley?” Elizabeth’s eyes grew wide, and her hand flew to her heart. “But, Jane…oh.” She had hoped that a tour of the country and a stay at Willow Hall might be beneficial to Jane’s state of mind, but if Mr. Bingley were to be here…

  “That is why I am telling you,” Darcy said softly. “Shall we join the others?” He asked motioning toward where a lively story was being shared by Mary Ellen.

  Lucy rested her chin on her shoulder and watched Darcy and Elizabeth conversing. It was obvious to her that they were good friends, if not more. She had never seen Darcy stand so close to a lady or speak at such length. Elizabeth must be the lady about whom he had written to Philip. Her brows furrowed. Those letters had not spoken of a happy man. Philip had been quite uneasy about sharing parts of them with her, but he was equally as uneasy about what he feared was his friend’s state of mind. However, there was no sign of that desperate man here. Elizabeth was lovely. It was not hard for her to imagine Darcy losing his heart to such a lady. They would make a good pair. Mary Ellen’s laugh brought her back to the conversation. She sighed. Hopefully, Mary Ellen would be content to have Elizabeth for a neighbour instead of a sister, for after the help Darcy had given her in ridding her of her uncle and achieving her current happiness, she would do her best to see the favour returned.

  Chapter 3

  Darcy paced beneath a large oak tree, stopping now and again to cast a glance down the path toward Willow Hall. Elizabeth had mentioned taking a walk each morning on this path. Unfamiliar with the area, she dared not venture too far from the house, so Mr. Abbot had shown her this pleasant path that would take her to the lower field where the remains of a wall stood. It was, she said, much better than repeating the same small circuit in the garden. She had laughed at the idea of growing dizzy with all the turning.

  Darcy chuckled at the thought as he made a circuit of the tree and then continued pacing. Perhaps he should have told her that he planned to meet her, but the idea had not come to him until last night when he was sitting in his library wishing she was there.

  He removed his hat and ran his hand through his hair. He knew it was dangerous to be allowing himself to hope as he was, but she had seemed welcoming yesterday. She had even agreed to meet his sister. Surely, if she were set against him, she would have refused, or so he thought. Again, he took a circuit of the great old tree, and this time, as he rounded it and faced Willow Hall, he saw her. He immediately put his hat on and then took it off. He ran his hand through his hair once again and replaced the hat, only to remove it a few seconds later as he waited for her to come close enough to greet.

  “Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth called, a smile lighting her face as she approached. “I see you still practice the exercise of walking each morning, although, it would seem you have wandered very far from your home.”
<
br />   He chuckled at the teasing tone of her voice. “I was actually riding,” he said as she joined him.

  She peeked around him. “Is your horse behind the tree then?”

  He shook his head and offered her his arm. “No, I left him at the wall and walked up here in hopes of seeing you.” He placed his hat back on his head. “I hope I was not being too forward in doing so. I do not want to intrude on your solitude.”

  “Your presence is not an intrusion, sir.” Elizabeth watched the path before her. If she was to be honest, she had hoped to meet him on her walk, for there were things which she needed to say to him, things that could not be discussed in company, things she had wished to say for months now. “I must apologize,” she began.

  “No,” he interrupted. “You said nothing that I did not deserve to hear.”

  “That does not make it right,” she argued.

  “Neither one of us was without fault on that occasion,” he conceded. “I had hoped we might move forward as…” He stopped walking and looked at her, the corner of his bottom lip pulled between his teeth in uncertainty. “I had hoped,” he began again, “that we might move forward as friends.” He noted how the light in her eyes faded and her lips no longer smiled as widely. “I was certain when I left Rosings that I would never see you again, and then yesterday, when you were here, and you welcomed me, I began to hope…” His voice trailed off, but his eyes held fast to hers.

  “As friends?” The word dug at her heart.

  “It is not what I would truly wish,” he said softly, “but, I am determined to be happy with mere friendship if you would allow it.”

  She tipped her head to the right, and her eyebrows drew together just slightly as she looked at him. “What do you wish?” Her heart drummed fast and heavy in her chest as she voiced the question.

  He smiled sadly. “My wishes and desires remain as they were.”

  Her cheeks reddened, and she had to look away as she asked, “And what if my wishes have changed?” She looked back at him briefly before looking away once again. “Is there any hope that we might ever be more?” She shook her head. “I know I do not deserve it, but might I have a second chance?” Nearly before she had finished speaking the words, she found herself wrapped in his embrace, and then just as quickly, she was standing on the path looking at his back.

  “Forgive me. I should not have — ”

  “I am uninjured, sir,” she interrupted.

  “But I had no right — ” Her smile as he turned toward her snatched all thought from his head.

  “I am uninjured, sir,” she repeated. “In fact, I find I am quite well — more well than I have been in months.” She began walking for fear that if she stood still he might embrace her once again, which was an action she would happily allow and even return.

  Elizabeth heard Darcy’s hurried steps as he came to walk beside her. Joining her, they continued on down the path for some minutes in perceived silence, but although there was no word of conversation spoken, their closeness and the comfort of such nearness spoke where words could not as each considered the other with varying degrees of delight. Hope filled each heart.

  As they approached the wall that stood in the field just beyond where the trees ended, Darcy finally spoke. “You would welcome my addresses?”

  She nodded and peeked at him, thankful for the brim of her bonnet that kept him from looking at her directly. It was not that she was necessarily shy, but speaking of one’s heart to the object of that heart’s desire was naturally uncomfortable when one had never done such a thing before. In fact, this was the first time that Elizabeth’s heart had ever desired any person and his good opinion as it desired Darcy and his opinion. “I would, very much.”

  Her hands twisted together slightly and her heart kept its loud and rapid beat in her chest as she continued, for though the topic was a new one, she would not retreat from it, no matter how much her mind begged her to do just that. “I have long regretted my words and my refusal. No, do not acquit me of my words or behaviour. I must speak what I have been contemplating.” She looked at him, and he nodded. “My discernment of your character was so faulty that I am truly ashamed of what I said.”

  He held his arm out to her as they exited the trees. “Please?” he pleaded as she looked at his arm with indecision. “I shall control myself,” he murmured.

  A small giggle escaped her, and she placed her hand on his arm. The contact of her gloved hand on his jacketed arm and the small act of drawing closer to him did nothing to calm the beat of her heart, but it did bring a peace and reassurance to her mind. “Your words were not untrue. My family has its faults, and my standing is not so great as yours. My relatives do not hold titles or large amounts of land. My father, while I love him dearly, is not so attentive to his duties as he should be. He finds too much enjoyment in the follies of not just others but also his family. Though I have tried, I cannot absolve him of his guilt in the behaviour of my mother and youngest sisters. I have attempted since that day when we last spoke in Kent to sway his opinions and provoke him to action, but I have not succeeded.”

  Darcy did not miss the pain in her voice and, in response, covered her hand with his free one, squeezing lightly in an attempt to comfort her. His comments about her beloved father were the ones which had caused him the deepest amount of regret. Had someone said such things, whether true or not, about either of his parents, he would have been, at least, as angry as she had been.

  “The one thing which I still struggle with to some degree is your interference with my sister.” She felt his arm tense beneath hers. “I cannot fault you for seeing to the care of a friend, but I cannot forget the despondence of Jane. On this matter, I still find my mind divided.” She paused. “As for the last matter,” she looked away and shook her head, “my self-reproach is most severe. I know better than to listen to tales and take them as fact without allowing for a careful examination of both sides. How you could ever forgive me for such behaviour only accentuates my deficiency in considering your character wanting.”

  They had reached the wall by this time and stood there with her hand still clinging to his arm, and his hand holding it there firmly. Neither wished to part from the other even for a moment.

  “You need not explain your actions to me,” Elizabeth continued. “Your letter has done so each day.” She pulled the well-worn paper from her pocket. “It has been both my reproach and my comfort for these many months, for it is both a reminder of my foolishness and a soothing substitute for your presence because it is your voice I hear as I read it.” She put the letter back in her pocket. “I have, since the third or fourth reading of your letter, longed to be able to withdraw my refusal, to turn it on its head and happily accept, but I dared not hope for such good fortune until now.”

  She drew a deep breath and released it, then turning to face him and taking both his hands in hers, she said, “I have been as foolish as any member of my family. I cannot promote myself to you as worthy of your status or your name, and my portion is not great. However, if you will have me, I can promise to always strive to bring you the honour you deserve and to continue to love you as I do now, most ardently.”

  “I fear I have lied,” he said with a smile.

  Her brows drew together as she searched his face. Confusion created by the gravity of his words and the joy of his smile was clearly written on her face. He freed one hand from her hold and placed it softly on her cheek. “I have lied,” he continued, “for I am uncertain that I can keep myself under regulation when such loveliness stands before me offering herself to me. I can think of nothing in this world that would keep me from accepting you.” He brushed his thumb across her cheek. “I would marry you this day, if I were able.” His thumb brushed her cheek once more. “But,” he continued, “first, I must speak to your father.” His eyes grew worried. “Will he allow it?”

  A smile lit her face. “If he does not, mention it to my mother, and he shall soon change his mind.” She laughed with him
at the thought, but then sobering, she added, “I shall write to him, so that he might be assured that this is my wish.”

  “You truly wish this? You would have me, arrogant man that I am?”

  “I would.”

  He tossed his hat on the ground and taking her face in his hands, bent to kiss her.

  The sensation of his lips pressed against hers took Elizabeth by surprise, and without her willing it to do so, her body leaned into him and her arms wound around his waist as if they knew exactly what to do. It was no wonder some ladies found themselves in compromising positions when their senses were so attacked as to be wholly outside their own power Elizabeth thought, as she stood some moments later, wrapped in Darcy’s arms, her head on his chest. Her mind even now knew that standing here, embracing and being embraced, was not proper, but her body was not willing to listen to anything but the beating of his heart, which matched her own rapid pulse. It was with regret that she followed his lead and slowly stepped away from the embrace when finally both hearts had returned to a more normal rhythm.

  “I must go on,” said Darcy, “and you must return to Willow Hall.” His hand caressed her cheek, and his smile looked almost sad. “I will call later at a proper time, if you are agreeable.”

  She nodded. “I would be happy to receive your call, Mr. Darcy.”

  “Fitzwilliam.” His voice was soft. “You must call me Fitzwilliam for I intend to call you Elizabeth.” There was a stubbornness to the set of his mouth and eyes as if he were prepared to defend his decision.

  She raised an impertinent brow and attempted to keep from smiling but could not. “Will it not seem strange to the Abbots if we address each other so informally?”

  He chuckled. “Indeed it would, but I do not intend to call you Elizabeth save when we are alone as we are now. I have referred to you as such in my thoughts for some months now.” He shook his head. “Nay, nearly a year.”

  “A year?” She looked at him in question, not only because of the length of time that he had considered her, but because in contradiction to his words of needing to leave, he had tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and was walking with her back toward Willow Hall.