by K C Kahler
“Sorry,” Lydia muttered, settling herself in the bed.
“Why can’t you sleep? I should think you exhausted.”
“I had a bad dream.”
“Do you wish to tell me about it?”
“No. I wish to hear again about your secret morning meetings with Mr Darcy.”
“Very well. The first time we met, I did not hear him approach…”
Her eyes. Darcy kept coming back to her eyes. Of course her skin was exquisite, her graceful throat, delicious, and her lips—her lips were a revelation. But it had always been her eyes, and his mind was full of them for the rest of the afternoon, even as he completed his unpleasant tasks. Likewise, he thought of her eyes on his ride back to Netherfield (restored to his own mount), during his bath, and throughout dinner with far too many people, none of whom were her. Now, Darcy tried to keep his mind more agreeably engaged, sitting silently through Anne and Lady Catherine’s incessant bickering. Alas, some voices cannot be easily ignored.
“This is not to be borne. Darcy, I insist we announce your betrothal to Anne immediately, thus putting an end to the ambitions of every low-born country miss you encounter, not to mention Anne’s ridiculous notion of marrying Christopher Grantly.”
Now he must speak. “Let me declare the impossibility of your aspirations for us once and for all. Anne and I shall never marry. I wish my cousin much joy with Mr Grantly, as should you. He is a good man.”
She made a dismissive gesture. “Nephew, you are to understand that I came here through all this mud with the determined resolution of carrying my purpose. I have not been in the habit of brooking disappointment.”
“That will make your situation at present more pitiable, Mother, but it will have no effect on Darcy, nor me.” Darcy suspected Anne was enjoying herself just a bit too much.
Lady Catherine acted as if Anne had not spoken, still addressing Darcy. “You and Anne are destined for each other by the voice of every member of your respective houses, and what is to divide you? The upstart pretensions of the second son of an obscure gentleman farmer without family, connexions, or fortune? Will he, rather than you, be master of Rosings Park? Is this to be endured?” She turned suddenly to Anne, “It must not, will not be! If you were sensible of your own good, you would not wish to quit the sphere in which you have been brought up.”
“In marrying Mr Grantly, I should not consider myself as quitting that sphere. He is a gentleman, I am a gentleman’s daughter; so far we are equal. The same can be said of Miss Bennet and Mr Darcy.” Anne used to possess more subtlety than this; Darcy braced for his aunt’s reaction.
Indeed, Lady Catherine’s suspicions began to awaken. “Why do we speak of Miss Lydia Bennet again? What has she to do with any of this? She may be a gentleman’s daughter, but who was her mother? Who are her uncles and aunts? Do not imagine me ignorant of their condition.”
“Whatever her connexions may be,” said Darcy, his anger increasing with every word, “if I do not object to them, they can be nothing to you.”
“Has that insolent girl actually drawn you in? Have her arts and allurements made you forget what you owe to yourself and to all your family. Have you taken leave of your senses? I am ashamed of you! Heaven and earth! Of what are you thinking? Are the shades of Pemberley to be thus polluted?”
They were interrupted by an insistent knock on the door of the sitting room they had borrowed for this pleasant little family discussion. Louisa Hurst entered, “I am terribly sorry to interrupt, but I feel it necessary to warn you. You must lower your voices. Mrs Hurst—my mother-in-law—is of a mind to come speak to you herself, but I convinced her to let me instead.”
Lady Catherine inhaled sharply, looking alarmed. Perhaps she had already had the misfortune to rouse that great lady, Regina Hurst, in defence of Mr Hurst. From the look of Anne’s hidden smile, that was precisely what had happened.
“I apologise, Mrs Hurst. We shall mind our voices henceforth,” Darcy said. “How is Mr Hurst?”
“He is a little better, I think. Mr Robertson is pleased with his progress.”
“I am very glad to hear it.”
“I never thanked you, Mr Darcy. I have never been much use in a crisis, and seeing Reginald that first day… Well, I thank God you were here. You were much more valuable to him than I.”
Darcy heard the regret in her voice. Perhaps this misfortune would be a new start for the Hursts. “I may have been of service during those chaotic hours after the accident, but you will be the most important to him during his recovery, Mrs Hurst.”
“That is my hope. Now, I shall leave you to your…discussion. Mother and Grandmother promised to tell me childhood tales of Reginald.”
She left them, and Darcy turned back to Lady Catherine. “Where were we, Aunt? Oh yes, I believe you were accusing me of losing my senses.”
“Nephew,” her tone took on a forced sweetness wholly incongruous with her character, “I am almost the nearest relation you have in the world. Will you promise me never to enter into an engagement with Miss Bennet?”
“I shall make no promise of the kind. I am my own master and shall marry where I wish.”
Her mask fell, but she was careful to keep her voice low. “I am shocked and astonished. I expected to find you more reasonable. You have no regard, then, for the honour and credit of your family! Unfeeling, selfish fool! Do you not consider that a connexion with Lydia Bennet must disgrace you in the eyes of everybody?”
“Lady Catherine, I have nothing more to say. You know my sentiments.”
“You are then resolved to have her?”
“I have said no such thing. I am only resolved to act in that manner, which will, in my own opinion, constitute my happiness.”
“You refuse, then, to oblige me. You refuse to obey the claims of duty, honour, and gratitude. You are determined to ruin yourself and become the contempt of the world, by marrying not only a girl of inferior breeding and fortune, but a mere child! Why, she is younger than Georgiana!”
He finally had to concede this much. “I have no intention of marrying Miss Lydia.”
Lady Catherine was the very picture of relief. She moved to speak again, but Darcy held up his hand.
“You will do well, however, to remember the kindness that so-called inferior family, the Bennets, offered to you and your daughter today, after enduring what I can only imagine was the most insulting behaviour conceivable from you. I have come to learn there is much more to ‘good breeding’ than family and fortune. There is kindness, grace, and compassion, and let us not forget humility, Aunt. Every one of Mr Bennet’s daughters possesses these fine qualities in excess of you, no matter your title.” She sat, open mouthed, while Anne smirked.
“Now, Lady Catherine, I expect you to speak only complimentary things of the Bennets for the remainder of the night, as my friend—your host—Mr Bingley, is engaged to marry Miss Jane Bennet. When we visit Longbourn tomorrow, I further expect you to thank the Bennets for their kindness to you and behave in a manner in keeping with your good breeding.”
She snapped her mouth shut. “Naturally, I must thank them for the use of their carriage, yes.”
“Very good. Shall we join Mr and Miss Bingley now?” Darcy was eager to be away from her. He wanted to blurt out that he would marry Elizabeth—no one but Elizabeth. However, since he had not been able to ask Mr Bennet’s consent, he thought it better not to mention their understanding yet. Anne directed several curious looks at Darcy, but they could not speak freely. He must thank her a thousand times for her intervention today.
The three of them made their way to the drawing room, where Bingley and Miss Bingley waited with coffee. Miss Bingley, eager to impress her most distinguished guest, proceeded to engage Lady Catherine in conversation. She soon learned precisely the right combination of subtle agreement and unabashed flattery. It took less than a quarter of an hour under this manner of treatment for Lady Catherine’s spirits to be restored.
Darcy took advan
tage of the distraction afforded by the forging of this new friendship by seating himself at the writing desk. He had just begun to request Georgiana join him at Netherfield before Christmas when Anne came to him.
“Fitzwilliam, I gave you ample opportunity to tell Mother of your engagement. Did you not meet Miss Elizabeth today?”
“Yes, thank you for sending her running out into the cold without her gloves.” He did not mean that sarcastically at all. Really he did not.
“Well?” she asked impatiently. “Did you not finally ask her to marry you?”
“Yes, I did.”
“She could not have refused you. I shall not believe it—not after speaking with her today.”
“She accepted me.” Darcy was powerless to keep the raw enthusiasm out of his voice.
Anne grinned, then said in a scolding manner, “Then why did you not tell Mother? She is directing all of her ire at me for my engagement. You must have your fair share.”
“I am sorry, Anne. I have not yet spoken to Mr Bennet.”
“But you were gone so long today. Whatever were you—Fitzwilliam! You could not have been doing that for so long out in the mud and cold.”
“Please.” Darcy winced, not wishing to think about what Anne knew of that, nor to discuss it with her. “There were some unexpected complications. I shall speak to Mr Bennet tomorrow and then happily inform Lady Catherine.”
“Oh, Fitzwilliam, you have set up a very wicked joke. Mother will learn your happy news at Longbourn! Though she sorely deserves the mortification, I do not think the Bennets deserve her temper.”
Darcy was far too preoccupied to have considered it. “Do you think she will cause a terrible scene?”
Anne shrugged. “Most likely. I shall try to mitigate her outbursts, if I can.”
“We must impress upon her beforehand the need, the expectation, to be civil.”
Anne gave him a dubious look, then eyed his letter. “To whom do you write?”
“Georgiana. I hope she will join me here before Christmas. I suppose I should ask Bingley though.”
“He looks as though he would appreciate being called away from Mother’s monologue. I shall sacrifice myself and send him over.”
She did as she promised, and Bingley was only too happy to break away. “Darcy, your aunt is rather…”
“Opinionated?”
Bingley cleared his throat and sought some means to change the subject. “You are no longer planning to leave us in two days’ time, are you?”
“No, I wish to extend my stay if I may.”
“Of course; I shall be pleased. It goes without saying that Caroline will be delighted as well, though perhaps when she learns what I suspect is the cause of your change in plans, she will be far from delighted.” Bingley grinned at Darcy like a fool, and Darcy grinned back like a bigger fool.
“Will you extend your hospitality to Georgiana as well? I wish her to come before Christmas.”
“We shall be doubly delighted.”
“Please do not mention it to Miss Bingley until tomorrow, though, after I have spoken with Mr Bennet.”
“Ah, the interview. Do not expect him to make it easy for you.”
“I never presume to know what to expect from any of the Bennets.”
“Then you are well prepared. Hurry up and finish your letter so that you may join in the fascinating conversation.”
Bingley re-joined the ladies, leaving Darcy to finish writing to Georgiana. He hoped Lady Catherine would be fatigued after her journey; he was hardly in a state of mind for social niceties. He also fully expected to have some very satisfying dreams tonight. Indeed, he was feeling rather fatigued himself.
* * *
Darcy paced back and forth as much as his hiding spot behind Longbourn would allow. He hoped—very, very much—that Elizabeth planned to walk this morning. So here he was, before sunrise, skulking behind the house where he might catch sight of the back door through the trees.
He tried to think of all he must tell her. She would wish to know how Hurst fared, and he must remember to tell her about Mrs Regina Hurst and her sister, Mrs Piper, not to mention their mother, Hurst’s grandmother, Mrs Fenton. Darcy knew Elizabeth would delight in his descriptions of those three formidable ladies. He supposed he must also tell her about Wickham, though he loathed bringing up that unsavoury subject. She at least must know that all went according to plan. He must warn her that Lady Catherine would probably behave rudely to her family, no matter how much he and Anne wished otherwise. He must tell her that Georgiana would be coming to Netherfield. Similarly, he must ask her how Miss Lydia fared.
As he catalogued the subjects to be covered, he heard a door shut. He barely caught a glimpse of Elizabeth as she sprinted through the garden, for she was already on the path that cut towards the road. He intercepted her, startling her in the process.
“Fitzwilliam! You frightened me!”
“I apologise. It is too muddy at Oakham Stream. I wanted to save you the walk.”
“You are forgiven. I hoped to see you this morning; I was unsure if you would ride today.”
Darcy found it very hard to remember what he wanted to say. “You need never doubt I would ride anywhere at any time for the slightest chance of seeing you.”
“How you flatter me,” she said as she smiled up at him sweetly.
Her eyes—always those fine eyes. He simply was not strong enough to resist their lure. The list of subjects to be covered must wait; he had forgotten it all anyway. With a reverently whispered, “Elizabeth,” he took her into his arms and lost himself in her again.
Lydia had feigned sleep when Elizabeth slipped out the door to meet Mr Darcy in the pre-dawn light. She found she was barely jealous. After yesterday’s terrifying ordeal in the woods, she saw the people around her with greater clarity. The way Mr Darcy looked at Elizabeth! She should have known he was in love with her sister at the ball, possibly even before that. All this time, Lydia thought herself more astute, more observant than Kitty, but in the case of Mr Darcy, she had been completely blinded by self-interest. Not once had she ever truly given a thought to how Mr Darcy might be feeling—as if his feelings were not even a consideration!
In truth, she had not truly given much thought to her own feelings. She sought a prize—that of a handsome, rich husband—without considering what would happen after she won it. Would she spend the rest of her life with a man of whom she knew so little? Did she really want to leave her mother, her father, her sisters, and her friends so soon?
When John had proclaimed he would marry her, rather than let her marry Wickham, Lydia had been so very tempted to accept. As Mrs John Lucas, she need not leave her family and friends at all. But she knew John did not love her, not in the way a man ought to love his wife. Oh, he cared for her in a protective, brotherly sort of way. It might be enough, if not for the possibility that he was in love with Elizabeth, a thought Lydia wished not to dwell on more than she must.
But while Lydia may have been selfish enough to let John rescue her reputation through marriage, she would never forgive herself if he was hurt, or worse, in a frightful duel. Thank heaven, Mr Darcy was so clever and resourceful. No one need marry her to save her reputation now.
This morning, she would begin to repay Mr Darcy the only way she could: by lessening some of the mortification and confusion he and Lizzy must face when their secret was finally revealed to Mrs Bennet.
Both Mr and Mrs Bennet were surprised to see their youngest daughter join them at such an early hour. Mr Bennet looked up from his book as Lydia poured herself a cup of tea and sat next to her mother.
“You look much improved this morning.” Mrs Bennet nodded her approval. “I should hope you have learned not to follow Lizzy’s example and go about walking all over creation no matter the weather.”
Yesterday’s misadventure was the very last thing Lydia wished to discuss. “Isn’t it wonderful news about Mr Darcy, Mama?”
“Indeed, my dear; he is neither
injured nor engaged. Perhaps you may still catch him.”
“I am sure Mr Hurst is thrilled to be so accommodating of your matrimonial schemes,” Mr Bennet said with a grim frown.
“Papa,” Lydia remonstrated, “of course I am very sorry Mr Hurst has suffered this terrible accident. But he does not have an orphaned sister to care for.”
He gave Lydia a long look. “No, he does not,” he agreed before turning back to his book.
“Mama, about Mr Darcy, I no longer wish to catch him.”
“Why ever not? He is just as handsome as before—he will not have any scars like Mr Hurst.”
Lydia winced. Had she ever sounded so small-minded? “I do not wish to marry so soon. Besides, I am younger than Mr Darcy’s sister. He would never think of me as a potential bride.”
“Of course you wish to marry—all girls do. You must keep at it. The biggest fish cannot be caught so easily, Lydia. If you want him, we shall keep trying to get him for you.”
“I do not want him.”
Mrs Bennet gave Lydia a conspiratorial smile. “I see. Someone else has caught your eye. Is it that handsome and gallant Mr Wickham?”
Lydia gripped the arm of her chair as the blood rushed in her ears. Her mother was still speaking, “I do understand, but you are much better off with Mr Darcy. He is so rich, and you are fond of him still, aren’t you? Remember his dimples.”
“I…I esteem Mr Darcy. I think he is clever and honourable. But we have very little in common. I do remember his dimples. I also remember that I have been an appalling failure at making him smile. It should not be such a difficult task, not if we were really meant to be together.”
Mrs Bennet sighed in resignation. “I warned you he was very dour. You did not seem to mind it after the picnic.”
“I mind it now, Mama.” Here was Lydia’s chance to rouse her mother’s suspicions. “Have you noticed,” she began as she spread jam on her bread, “that Elizabeth has had the most success in making Mr Darcy talk and laugh?”
