First, one of the greatest treasures you can offer a woman is to beg her opinion, listen to her reply carefully, then heed her advice. Most often, females are ignored or considered ignorant in every matter other than running a household or performing those accomplishments expected by the ton. To be paid attention to is a rare treat and would set the man apart from all others.
Second, another treasure is to offer some of your private self to her. This shows you trust her. Trust me, dear brother, this increases the respect a female has for a man.
Third, and this is related to the last, is if she were to share a private thought with you. Cherish it, Fitzwilliam. For a lady to do so to a gentleman is a rare gem.
Finally, consider what interests you hold in common. Make this the subject of your discourse.
Pray, beware of offering false compliments or an excess of compliments. Instead of making a lady feel pleasure, it worries her that you only see what is on the outside of her, rather than her actual self. In truth, I fell victim to Wickham’s ploys as he showered me with little, practiced praise. Upon reflection, it proved his disrespect for me.
As you realize, I have enclosed in a separate package several gifts I believe your Miss Elizabeth would appreciate. This was, by far, the most challenging aspect to this task. I first needed to consider the sort of lady who would touch your heart. Please use them as you see fit, or not.
Wishing you success as you seek to please your lady’s heart.
Your devoted sister (who would love a sister of her own),
GD
Pulling at the string until it broke, Darcy unwrapped her offerings. Perfect! He would use each and every one of them. Bless you, Georgie!
Darcy had decided to wait until visiting hours before arriving at Longbourn. It was his hope Mr. Collins had already used his thirty minutes. He had.
It was a ruffled, irritated Elizabeth who greeted him in her father’s study.
Before they left for their walk down the lane, he addressed Mr. Bennet.
“Sir, I ask your permission to provide Miss Elizabeth an explanation of my dealings with George Wickham in written form. Should you feel the need to read my repetition of yesterday’s conversation, I will leave it with you as we walk.”
After indicating he had no desire to read the letter, Mr. Bennet pulled his watch from his pocket. “As a reminder, your time begins with the closing of the front door. You will be within my eyesight for the full thirty minutes. I suggest you use them wisely.”
Handing the parchment to Elizabeth, Darcy watched as her finger ran over the lettering of her name on the front before she laid it back on her father’s desk. “I shall read it when we return.”
Once she had her outerwear on, he checked his time piece as the front door closed. Again, he offered his arm. Again, he was rejected.
“Miss Elizabeth, might I inquire after your morning?”
She harrumphed.
“I see. Apparently, your interview with my competition did not go well.”
She rolled her eyes but still remained silent.
“Then I will offer you a token sent by my sister for you rather than conversation.” He worried he was acting too quickly. At the tilt of her head towards him, he was encouraged to continue.
From his inside pocket he pulled a white linen handkerchief with three small daisies embroidered in one corner. A simple loop pattern of some sort was woven around the edges of the cloth. He had seen far more elegantly fashioned handkerchiefs than this one, but the daisies were a wonderful touch—a simple piece of nature that conjured up summer strolls and picnics.
“This is lovely.” Elizabeth’s thumb rubbed gently over the flowers. “I love daisies. They are a happy flower.” She looked at him directly, a small grin on her face. “Pray, do thank her for me.”
“I will,” he said as he stretched out his arm towards the lane. “Should we continue?”
At her nod, they again started walking. “Might I suggest for the next twenty-four minutes that we quietly enjoy our surroundings—finding peace amidst the autumn day?”
“Please, Mr. Darcy. I would like that more than all else.”
“Then, lead the way. I will gladly match my stride to yours.” He gazed down upon her, wishing she would turn her face his way so he could see more than the side of her bonnet. However, he would not ask.
He did see the corner of her mouth tip up. She was smiling.
Vowing to be true to his word, he said nothing as they strolled the country lane between the trees. The turning of the leaves to yellows, oranges, and reds appealed to the senses. The crisp air somehow soothed him. Or, was it his companion?
Occasionally he checked his watch. At the allotted time, they turned around like dancers moving to the same rhythm.
When they were a few minutes from the house, she finally spoke.
“Thank you for your consideration, sir. I will not reveal the machinations of Mr. Collins to you as that would hardly be fair. Nevertheless, I will share that the half hour spent in your company was surprisingly refreshing. Again, I thank you.”
After a slight curtsey, she entered the house, leaving him on the front steps.
He was joyous! He had never had a courtship before, and he had done well. What a difference twenty-four hours had made. He could not wipe the smile from his face the whole way back to Netherfield Park. Deciding to avoid company, he again went to his chambers to plot and plan for the next day. After the success of the morning, how difficult could it be?
Chapter 6
How wrong he had been. Within two minutes of being in Elizabeth’s company the next morning, he knew his confidence had been misplaced. He knew the exact time, as he had checked his watch.
“Sir, as is the way with sisters, I placed your gift and letter on the side table in my chambers where I suspect it was Lydia who happened upon them. Deciding she needed the handkerchief more than I did, she placed it carelessly in her pocket.”
“Did she not realize it belonged to you?” he asked innocently.
“If it was indeed Lydia, she was fully aware the gift was mine. Her propensity to freely ‘borrow’ ribbons and such is known to all of us in the family.” Elizabeth took several steps before continuing. Her tone became sharp. “Needless to say, she was just as careless with your gift as she was in respecting my possessions. She must have shown the handkerchief to my mother.”
“I see.” He truly did not see. “Did your mother not like the pattern Georgiana affixed to the corner?”
“Mr. Darcy,” she huffed. “You do not see at all.”
Four more steps went by before, gratefully, she clarified.
“My mother, who is determined Mr. Collins shall prevail in this courtship contest, immediately absconded with the linen to show Mr. Collins. Therefore, this morning, I was gifted by him a package filled with yards of uncut cotton, skeins of the gaudiest colors of yarn, and needles the length and thickness of which I have never used before, nor ever will.”
“I see.” This time he really did comprehend her vexation. Not once when she took care of her sister at Netherfield did he see her pick up a needlework project to work on. “I take it that sewing is not your preferred means of spending your spare time?”
“No, it is not. But that is not the point.” She stopped. Using her index finger, she poked him in the chest. “Because of you, I now have in my possession enough fabric to clothe all five of us females in undergarments for the next several years. The yarn is thick and heavy, quite inappropriate for anything other than darning a man’s wool stockings. The colors Mr. Collins chose would need hidden at the bottom of the stocking by leather boots. The needles could be used in a sword fight with my worst enemy who, at this point, is definitely you!”
Although his inclination was to laugh aloud, Darcy mustered control of his expression.
“Worst enemy seems rather harsh for a gift of that nature, Miss Elizabeth.”
“You truly do not understand.” She flapped her arms and harrumphe
d. Poking him again, this time much harder than the last, she explained, “I despise needless needlework, Mr. Darcy. I would much rather fill my time with a good book, a sewing project that would be beneficial to someone in need, or good conversation. Now, I will be required to soothe Mr. Collins’ ego and my mother’s demands by spending hours in pointless activity using materials I would not have chosen in my lifetime. Do you now understand my situation?”
“You poor soul.” He could no longer contain himself. Laughter burst from him into the stillness of the day. When she smacked him on the chest with her hand, he clasped it to him, then moved it to the crook of his elbow.
Walking on, he looked to see her response when he regained control. Her smile lit the autumn day brighter than the sun. Boldly, he moved a bit closer to her as they strolled down the lane.
“Miss Elizabeth, I see I shall need to reconsider today’s gift.”
“You brought another gift, sir?” She chuckled. “I do hope it is not poetry or I will be spending thirty miserable minutes tomorrow after breaking my fast listening to Mr. Collins’ version of an ode to stir my affections towards him. I simply will not have it, Mr. Darcy.”
He could not keep a blush from creeping up his neck. Indeed, a small volume of Shakespeare’s sonnets was already in his coat pocket. It was Georgiana’s second gift she had sent. This particular book was precious, as the bookplate attached inside was addressed to Lady Anne Darcy from his father. It was given with love on the first anniversary of their wedding.
“Sir, are you well?”
There was nothing for him to do except pull the sonnets from his pocket and hand them to her.
“Oh!”
“Yes, oh.” He sighed. “This was also sent by my sister. She genuinely believes that if left solely up to me, I will fail in my attempts at romancing a worthy woman. Georgiana desires my happiness as much as I desire hers.”
“That was very kind of her. Nonetheless, I was serious about not accepting gifts, especially if they are not coming directly from you. For I will become better acquainted with your sister than you. I believe that would defeat the purpose of the few days we have remaining.”
Blast! Now, what was he to do? He returned the book to his pocket after accepting it back from her. Looking at his watch, he found it was time to return to Longbourn.
“Miss Elizabeth, if you would accept the following, I would be appreciative.” He stopped before turning back. Bowing, he placed his hand over his heart and recited, gazing into her eyes through the entire sonnet:
“Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark,
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.
Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error, and upon me prov’d,
I never writ, nor no man ever lov’d.”
“Unfair!” she exclaimed, looking away from him. When she imitated his stance, putting her hand over her own heart, he was almost undone.
Some message, a universal truth, passed between them until Darcy realized he would never view her the same as he had done before the recitation.
“Mr. Darcy, we must speak of something other than poetry, I pray you. For, I am unprepared for the power of the Bard’s words spoken with such feeling.”
He grinned, but only to himself. He had been romantic! His chest began to swell with pride when something she had mentioned earlier stopped him in his place.
“Miss Elizabeth, you mentioned that Miss Lydia found both the handkerchief and my letter. Pray, tell me she did not read its contents.” Blind panic flooded his chest until all tender emotions vanished.
“Be at ease, sir,” Elizabeth started walking back to Longbourn. “She did not.”
“Did you?”
“Yes, every word.”
He silently waited for more. Elizabeth had never failed to express her opinions freely in front of him, so he was surprised she withheld her impressions now. He began to be uncomfortable. They were nearing the dreaded front door.
His palms began to sweat. The letter exposed Wickham’s sins, Georgiana’s almost elopement, and his own indolence at allowing Wickham to get away with his crimes. It was not until he had completed the four pages and reread what he had written that he realized how culpable he had been. There was no honor in allowing others to be hurt. Going behind Wickham and cleaning up after the rake was admirable to a point. Yet, stopping the cur in the first place should have been done years ago. If he recognized how bad the missive made him look, Elizabeth’s sharp mind would have immediately known the same.
Although the letter did not advance his suit with the lady, it had to be done.
“You are too kind to trifle with my feelings,” he began. “If, because of my disinclination to take Wickham to task you would reject me, pray, let me know now. I will depart Hertfordshire to never return.”
He held his breath. It had not been his intention when he opened his mouth to leave her with an ultimatum. It was too soon. His courtship had been less than one hour. Half of that had been spent in pleasant silence.
“No, do not let me know. Instead, please forget I said what I did.”
Kindly, she asked, “Would you, then, explain yourself?”
“Yes, thank you.” He inhaled deeply. “From your comments at the ball, I understood you had been captivated by Wickham’s many charms. Few are able to resist him. My account of his activities and proclivities had to hurt you if you did not believe my words to be true. To an innocent, as you are, my charges would appear like the vilest slander against a favorite. They could be perceived to sprout from bitter jealousy that he is far more capable of making friends than I. If this is your situation, Miss Elizabeth, I offer my sincerest apologies.”
“Do not, sir.” Elizabeth swallowed. “When I started with the first page, I was angry. At you. Where he had acted the gentleman, you had not. Thus, it was almost an insult against all I stood for to find out my ability to sketch a character, my perceptions and opinions, were flawed far more than anything I had mentally accused you of being.”
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Is Miss Darcy well?”
“She is...recovering her trust slowly.”
“I would ask, and pray forgive my impertinence, which of the Bennet daughters, myself included, is your sister most like?” Tilting her face up to him, he saw the turmoil in her eyes.
“She is gentle and quiet like your eldest sister, a great reader like you, and as concerned about ribbons and lace as your youngest, I believe.”
“I see.” Elizabeth rested her index finger on her chin. “The accounts about her are exceedingly unequal.”
“How so?” It angered him to find others freely spoke about his sister.
“From Mr. Bingley’s sisters, I understood Miss Darcy to be a paragon of accomplishments and grace; far too serious in her achievements to be concerned about a simple country miss like myself. Mr. Wickham described her as proud and arrogant.” She stopped when he sucked in a breath. “However, she cared enough for a stranger to send me daisies. That speaks more of my Jane than the rest of us girls. Thus, I believe Miss Bingley does not truly know your sister’s character and Mr. Wickham used his comments to fuel my hatred of you.”
He had no idea how to respond. Therefore, he said nothing. He was grateful when she continued.
“Sir, when my father told me two days ago that I had to accept thirty minutes from Mr. Collins and thirty minutes of company from you, I was beyond upset. I felt it was penance and I had don
e nothing deserving of such treatment.” She shook her head at herself. “Now, I discern his wisdom, for not only am I coming to know both of you gentlemen better, I am coming to know myself as well. I am not happy with my father’s interference, my mother’s pushing Mr. Collins at me like he is my final hope, and the arrogant beginning you had in my company. However, I do appreciate the opportunity to become more self-aware. This will service to benefit me in the future, I believe.”
She took the last few steps to the door. “Because of this, I fully accept your letter as truth.”
The air left him in a noisy huff as relief gave birth to a seed of hope.
She reached for the handle before he thought to move.
“Sir, did you speak to my father of all you wrote in your letter? Has he been warned about Mr. Wickham’s character?”
“Yes, he knows all the details in full.”
“Then, I do hope one or the other of you will act quickly to protect the good citizens of Meryton, especially my younger sisters.” She dipped in a small curtsey. “Good day.”
With that, she was gone.
Chapter 7
When he returned to Netherfield Park, Bingley was waiting for him. Darcy would have been unsurprised had his friend taken him to task for being absent as Darcy knew he had been a poor guest.
“Darcy, the express rider has been busy. You have another letter and a small package from Darcy House.” Bingley offered them into Darcy’s willing hands. “By the by, would you want to go over the estate books this afternoon? I am willing if you are.”
“Actually, I have an important conversation to hold with Colonel Forster. One of his militia men is unworthy of the uniform. Instead of withholding proof, which I have in abundance, I am honor bound to reveal him for the miscreant he is before too much damage to the community is done. As the primary landowner in the county, I would appreciate your company while I complete my errand.”
Bingley stood taller for being asked.
Within a short while, the men rode towards the encampment. By hour’s end, Mr. George Wickham was under arrest. Sixty long minutes later, Darcy and Bingley returned to Netherfield Park. Darcy was poorer for having settled Wickham’s outstanding accounts, but richer for doing what he should have done years prior.
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