The Elizabeth Conspiracy

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The Elizabeth Conspiracy Page 16

by Jennifer Joy


  "Did you, or did you not, call at the parsonage on Thursday last?" she finally asked him.

  Darcy felt Richard's stare on him. A bead of sweat trickled down the middle of his back. The room was an inferno. "Yes, I did."

  Aunt Catherine tapped her fingernails against the staff of her cane. "Who else was at home?"

  She very well knew the answer to that question. "None of the residents. As you will recall, Mr. and Mrs. Collins were invited here for tea along with Miss Lucas."

  She asked Elizabeth, "Where were you that afternoon?"

  If Elizabeth clasped her fingers together any tighter, she would crush her fingers. "I had stayed behind with a headache."

  "You were unattended?" Aunt pressed.

  Elizabeth nodded.

  "Speak up, girl" Aunt ordered.

  "That is correct, your ladyship. I was alone."

  "Until my nephew called. What was said?" Aunt Catherine said, leveling her glare at Darcy.

  Darcy held his head erect. He was unashamed, though if he could turn back time, he would have spoken differently. "I asked Miss Elizabeth Bennet to marry me."

  Out of the corner of his eye, Darcy saw Richard cross his arms and drop his chin to his chest.

  Aunt Catherine cracked her cane against the floor like a gavel on a judge's bench. Darcy had acted foolishly, and he was unafraid to face the consequences. He would accept responsibility for his actions as he always had. He only prayed Aunt Catherine would not unleash her fury against Elizabeth. Of that, she was undeserving.

  "Explain yourself," Aunt Catherine hissed, her knuckles white on her cane and her face red.

  "The spy you employ at the parsonage must have explained everything worth hearing to you. I know very well there is nothing I can say to appease you." He ought to have taken greater care that the maid not overhear him. As controlling as Aunt Catherine was, he should have known she would have someone at the parsonage to report to her.

  She pointed her cane at him accusingly. "I am ashamed to hear how this opinionated snipe had more sense than my own nephew," she said, flicking her cane over to Elizabeth. "How dare you propose marriage to someone so far below our circles, and while engaged to my daughter! Would you bring ostracism on our name?"

  "Ostracism? Miss Bennet is a gentleman's daughter," he defended her as if he still had a chance. Realizing how ridiculous he sounded, he added, "And I was never engaged to Anne."

  Aunt scoffed. "She is a calculating, manipulative young woman who has used her arts and allurements to make you forget what you owe to yourself and your family. She has drawn you in, but it is nothing more than an infatuation."

  Darcy heard a noise like fingers crunching coming from Elizabeth. Though he could never marry her, he could not allow his own relative to abuse her when he could prevent it.

  "You speak of Miss Bennet as if she cannot hear you! Is that the accepted conduct of a lady in the first circles?" Darcy parried.

  Richard cleared his throat and opened his mouth, but Aunt Catherine sliced her cane through the air to point at him. "You are merely here to remind your errant cousin of his obligation toward his family. I trust you to help me save Darcy from the inconveniences of a most imprudent marriage."

  The very words he had used to separate Bingley from Miss Jane Bennet. He despised ever having uttered those detestable, interfering words! Darcy swore to himself he would never again involve himself in a decision not his own.

  Taking a deep breath, he said, "I am capable of deciding with whom I wish to spend the rest of my life. You take too much concern in my interests, and I thank you to respect my choice and concern yourself no further."

  Would had Bingley said as much to him. He had always been too trusting of those whom he considered of a superior mind. Darcy didn't feel so superior now.

  "I am almost the nearest relation you have in the world, and am entitled to know all your dearest concerns," Aunt Catherine snapped — as if she had ever cared about anything other than her own comfort and prestige.

  "I am under no obligation to you. My happiness is dependent upon myself alone." Not that he had done well for himself on that score, but that did not mean he would surrender his freedom to his self-serving aunt.

  "How convenient for you that Anne should die," she hissed. "From infancy, you were intended for Anne. It was the favorite wish of your mother. While in your cradles, we planned the union. And now I learn that, at the moment when the wishes of your dear, departed mother would be accomplished in your marriage, it was to be prevented by a young woman of inferior birth, of no importance in the world, and wholly unattached to the family? No, I will not allow it! Do you pay no regard to the wishes of your friends? Are you lost to every feeling of propriety and delicacy?"

  Darcy raised his voice. "How is it improper for me to make an offer to the daughter of a gentleman? In birth, we are equals. As for Anne, I have never made it a secret that I did not wish to marry her."

  "I will not be interrupted! Hear me in silence! You and Anne are descended, on the maternal side, from the same noble line; and on the fathers', from respectable, honorable, and ancient — though untitled — families. Your fortunes are splendid. You were destined for each other by the voice of every member of your respective houses … and what divided you? The avaricious pretensions of a young woman without family, connections, or fortune. Is this to be borne?"

  "A division cannot be made where there was never an attachment," he answered, hearing Elizabeth's gasping breath and seeing her face pinch out of the corner of his eye. She looked about to burst.

  Aunt Catherine ignored him. "It must not, shall not be! If you were sensible of your own good, you would not wish for Miss Bennet to quit to the lower sphere in which she has been brought up."

  In a flash, Darcy saw Mrs. Bennet in his mind, the daughter of a merchant who had the good fortune to marry a gentleman. He recalled Elizabeth's uncles, men in trade. Hearing the objection, the same as one he had presented before the woman he claimed to love in his proposal, come from his aunt's mouth made his stomach churn.

  Darcy interrupted his aunt's speech before Elizabeth could say something she would later be made to regret. "If I have no objections to her connections, what is it to society to forbid me from marrying for love?"

  He felt Elizabeth's eyes on him. He had over-spoken.

  Aunt Catherine said in an ear-piercing pitch, "Because honor, decorum, prudence — nay, interest! — forbid it."

  Darcy could not believe his ears. "Interest? How is it in my best interest, or any young lady's, to deny ourselves of the opportunity to live happily?" He wanted to turn to Elizabeth, take her in his arms, and kiss her until she promised to marry him … at the same time he knew he could never act on the wishes of his traitorous heart. She had lied, he reminded himself. She was untrustworthy though he defended her.

  "Yes, Darcy, interest. Do not expect Miss Bennet to be noticed by your family or friends if you willfully act against the inclinations of all. She will be censured, slighted, and despised by everyone connected with you. And it would be your doing. Your alliance would have been a disgrace … had she accepted you," Aunt Catherine huffed.

  He replied as flippantly as he could to her jab. "A heavy misfortune, for a certainty. I would ensure my wife would have such extraordinary sources of happiness that she could, upon the whole, have no cause to repine the loss of society."

  Richard snorted, and Elizabeth stared into her lap.

  Aunt Catherine snapped, "You are no different from your father — unwilling to see reason. My sister never neglected her duty nor troubled us by putting her own desires ahead of her family's. I am shocked and astonished at your replies thus far, Darcy. You have failed your family, and your ungentlemanly behavior in my household will not go unpunished. Do not deceive yourself in believing that I will ever rescind. I will see you suffer for your disregard for Anne's memory."

  Her threat angered Darcy. "I am not to be intimidated into anything so wholly unreasonable as a promise
made by two sisters with more care for their ambitions than for their own children. You have gravely mistaken my character if you think I can be worked on by such persuasions as these. I am sorry for your loss, Aunt Catherine, but your persistence in using Anne against me as if she were still alive is not only unreasonable, it is diseased. Allow us to mourn for her, grateful that we are still blessed with life."

  He rose to depart, as did Richard and Elizabeth.

  "Not so hasty, if you please," his aunt called out. "I have by no means done. Heaven and earth! Of what are you thinking? Are the shades of Pemberley to be thus polluted?"

  Darcy clenched his fists at his sides. How dare she insult Elizabeth, implying that she was a disgrace, a pollution. Every muscle in his body tensed as he struggled to justify his own accusations against Elizabeth with his need to rise in her defense.

  But Elizabeth did not need him. She stood on her own before his aunt. "You have insulted me to my face and before witnesses in every possible method and can now have nothing further to say. As such, I will take my leave."

  She stepped toward the door, Darcy and Richard falling in behind her — a buffer between the two ladies at odds.

  "You have no regard, then, for the honor and credit of our family! Do you not consider that a connection with her must disgrace you in the eyes of everybody?" Aunt Catherine said.

  Darcy wished for nothing more than to distance himself from the woman who would speak ill of one whose conduct was above reproach … or was it?

  With a frustrated sigh, he turned. "Aunt Catherine, I have nothing more to say. You know my sentiments."

  "You are resolved to have her?"

  Darcy froze. Elizabeth paused in the doorway.

  His heart was resolved where his mind firmly refused to bend, tearing at Darcy with a conflict of his own making.

  Dare he ignore the warnings plaguing his mind and expose himself to the painful impulses of his heart?

  Chapter 29

  He spared Elizabeth's vanity without extending any false hope, saying with the deepest regret, "As you have pointed out, she will not have me."

  Darcy watched Elizabeth pass through the door to the hall until she was out of his sight. If only he could know for a certainty she was trustworthy.

  "She only refused you to increase your affection. It is the way a cold-hearted lady without means of her own secures a fortune," his aunt called out.

  If Darcy believed that to be true, he would not love her still. There had been no artful trickery in Elizabeth's firmness when she had refused him, and he would not do her the injustice of believing her dishonest. In every way, she had spoken honorably.

  He walked to the door.

  Aunt Catherine's voice cracked across the room. "You refuse, then, to obey the claims of duty, honor, and gratitude? You are determined to ruin yourself in the opinion of all your friends and make yourself the contempt of the world?"

  Darcy felt absolutely defeated, but he could not allow his aunt to have the final say. "I am not in the habit of giving consideration to what others think of me. In this matter, I will not budge."

  Just ahead, he saw Richard waiting for him in the corridor. Darcy could not bear to look at him just yet.

  "This is your final reply? Very well. I shall now know how to act. Do not imagine, Darcy, that your dream of marrying for love will ever be gratified. I had hoped to find you reasonable, but depend upon it, I will carry my point."

  "Do what you will. There is nothing left to say." Darcy's feet felt heavy, but he left the room and brushed past Richard toward his room.

  More than anything, he wanted to be alone. He craved silence and peace of mind … but it was not to be. Not five minutes after closing his bedchamber door, Richard informed him that their aunt insisted they wait for her in the second drawing room.

  Elizabeth was there too.

  Darcy made his way to the chimney, the one Mr. Collins had impressed the people of Meryton with by proclaiming its value to be over eight hundred pounds.

  He needed to act. He wanted to strike his insecurities with the energy of his doubts until his body could take no more. Then, maybe, his mind would stop tormenting him.

  Instead, he was trapped in a room guarded by footmen and the two people who could wreak the most havoc on him.

  How easily he had risen to Elizabeth's defense. He could not have acted any other way, though it had pained him to no end.

  And Richard… Darcy had meant to spare his own pride by not telling his cousin of his failed proposal, but he could see now what a great mistake that had been. His only trustworthy ally had every reason to distrust him … which put Darcy in the same position as Elizabeth.

  He could easily justify her treachery had it not involved his beloved little sister. And yet, Elizabeth had forgiven him for his interference in her dearest sister's future happiness. Could he not extend her the same kindness and forgive her?

  Darcy groaned and leaned against the chimney, burying his hands in his hair and resting his elbows on the mantelpiece. He needed some space to think, and with Aunt Catherine's resolve to keep them under lock and key together, he did not expect to be granted his wish anytime soon.

  He sensed Richard's presence at his side before he tilted his head to see him.

  His cousin's customary jovial expression was gone, replaced with a deep furrow in his brow and an equally deep frown. "You ought to have told me, Darcy," he said.

  "I know it. Never before have I suffered from my pride as much as I have this past week."

  Richard harrumphed. "If your reason for not telling me of your proposal — and its outcome — was to spare your pride, I can assure you, you acted as any man would have done under the same circumstances. I would have teased and tormented you mercilessly over it. However, the moment Anne died, things changed. You ought to have told me of your history with Miss Bennet."

  Oh, did Darcy know it. His stomach roiled at the consequences. "Aunt is intent on revenge, and she would sooner turn against a young woman who would interfere with her daughter's happiness than accuse her own nephew. I fear for Elizabeth."

  Richard's voice dropped. "You still love her."

  Darcy squeezed his eyes shut. "I do not know how to stop."

  "And the only thing preventing you from loving her freely is your belief that she betrayed your confidence, thus putting Georgiana's reputation at risk?"

  Darcy opened his eyes. "If she has lost my trust, my respect is soon to follow. And with that my love for her will eventually wither. It feels impossible now, but I know it will come and I should very much like to marry for love … even if it is nothing more than an impossible dream."

  Richard cracked a smile. "I had not thought you to be such a romantic, Darcy. It does an old soldier's heart good to hear such poetic expressions."

  The door opened and Mr. Collins and his wife entered the drawing room. Thankfully, Elizabeth intercepted the clergyman before he could make his way to Darcy.

  Richard greeted them briefly, but it was clear that Elizabeth and Mrs. Collins had many things to discuss — things of interest to Mr. Collins.

  Returning to him, Richard looked between Elizabeth and Darcy with a puzzled expression. "There is one thing I do not understand. I can see clearly that Miss Bennet admires you, and yet she refused your offer. I cannot believe Aunt Catherine's accusations against her when I have observed her to be too honest in character to use feminine arts against you, and yet there seems to be no other explanation."

  Darcy leveled his eyes at Richard. "Do you really wish to know?" he asked.

  "Of course! How am I to be of assistance to you if I am unaware of your strategy?"

  Darcy scoffed at the irony of Richard's offer. "You have been enough help already."

  The worry in Richard's face softened his reply. Shaking his head and relaxing his shoulders, Darcy said, "Do not worry, Richard. There were other forces at play. My own abominable behavior did little to recommend my suit, and had you heard my proposal, you woul
d have wanted to run me through with your sword." Darcy continued hurriedly to avoid repeating the incident in detail to his curious cousin. "Do you recall how I requested that you confirm my history with Wickham to Elizabeth?"

  Richard frowned. "I had forgotten about that ingrate."

  "Already having a poor opinion of me, Elizabeth believed his story. She saw me as the worst sort of villain, depriving him of a living and condemning him to a life without the advantages my father had promised to him."

  "That must have been a bitter tonic to swallow."

  Darcy continued, "Had that been her only objection, I could have more easily overcome it."

  "What? There is more? By God, Darcy, what else could you have done to make her detest you?" Richard asked in astonishment.

  Poor Richard. He had no clue. Darcy told him plainly, "An individual of noble character, whose charm inspired immediate trust in Elizabeth, informed her that I was the ruiner of her eldest sister's happiness. He told her how I had separated Mr. Bingley from a young lady to whom I held strong objections."

  Richard's eyes grew as his understanding did. "That was her sister? Now I understand fully!" he exclaimed loudly enough to draw curious eyes over to them.

  Calming himself and hushing his voice, Richard said, "I had no idea, Darcy, and I cannot tell you how sorry I am. However, it explains everything, does it not? If you were to learn the lady had interfered with the future happiness of your sister, you would have acted in the same manner." His face fell. "Which is exactly what you have been doing." He shook his head as he scratched his chin in thought. "This is a bad business, Darcy. I cannot say I agree with your decision, but it pains me to admit I can understand it."

  Having Richard's sympathy did little to ease the burden weighing on Darcy.

  In fact, he would have sooner kept his silence when Richard exclaimed, "There is only one thing left to do. I must assist you once again."

  "Pray, do not trouble yourself," Darcy pleaded.

  "It is no trouble at all." Richard clapped his hands and rubbed them together. Then, before Darcy could stop him, he joined the party conversing with Elizabeth, leaving Darcy little option but to join them. If nothing else, he would attempt to control whatever damage his cousin caused this time.

 

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