by J P Christy
At the shock of her question, Darcy dropped his glass. Staring at the spot where the thick Aubusson rug soaked up the brandy, he said, “I do not have the pleasure of understanding you.”
“Yes, you do. You like her. I’m not certain that she shares your feelings, but beggars—even gentlewomen such as herself—cannot be choosers. Mama said Miss Elizabeth rejected Mr. Collins’s proposal last year. And Mr. Collins has told us he will inherit her family’s estate when her father dies. He also predicted in his pious-yet-spiteful tone that Miss Elizabeth is unlikely ever to receive another proposal. So, I wager she would accept you.”
That is a wager you would lose. After a long pause, Darcy said stiffly, “How flattering. How reassuring. Apparently, I am as good as married.” He picked up his glass, refilled it with brandy, and walked briskly to the door. “Good night, Anne. Kindly tell your mother I have a headache and will not be down to dinner. And tomorrow, let us come together to disappoint her fondest dream: the joining of Rosings and Pemberley.”
≈≈≈
Sleep did not come easily to Elizabeth that night; disturbing thoughts circled painfully, seemingly beyond resolution. What will I tell Charlotte, although she is too kind a friend to remind me of her recommendation for Jane to openly show her regard for Mr. Bingley. Or will I tell Charlotte anything at all? I will not expose my dearest sister to more ridicule regarding her inconsistent suitor. Oh, Mr. Bingley, were you a cad or a fool?
As for Darcy’s proposal, a small part of Elizabeth was flattered (pure vanity, she scolded herself) by the gentleman’s intent rather than the mode of his disastrous offer. Still, she doubted his regard for her. What gentleman would declare he had come to love a lady against his will, his reason, and his family obligations?
When Elizabeth came to Rosings in mid-March to stay with the Collinses, she had not seen or thought about Darcy in months. Nor was she aware that Darcy and his cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam would soon arrive for what was apparently their annual visit.
From the moment the colonel was introduced to Elizabeth on a sunny morning at the end of March, he showed himself to be an amiable man whose friendly manners were universally admired at the parsonage. Darcy, however, was much the same as he had been last year when he accompanied his friend Bingley to Hertfordshire: taciturn, unsmiling, and exuding a disapproving air.
Yet, this afternoon, scarcely three weeks into his visit to Rosings, Darcy had stunned her with his declaration, “In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you, Miss Elizabeth, how ardently I admire and love you!”
When her astonishment left her without words, he took the opportunity to explain how, after much struggle, he had overcome his reticence with regard to her societal inferiority and the fact that uniting his superior family with hers would be a degradation. After concluding his proposal with criticisms of her parents and sisters, Darcy looked at Elizabeth as if expecting gratitude for his liberality of mind. However, it was his turn to be rendered speechless upon hearing her angry response.
Elizabeth declared, “I have never desired your good opinion, and you have certainly bestowed it most unwillingly!” As she detailed Darcy’s faults, his expression was, by turns, incredulous and outraged. Picturing him now, she told herself, No, I cannot believe there was even a hint of a whisper of genuine love.
His behavior was so contradictory as to be nonsensical. To offer for her while discouraging his friend’s attachment to her sister? To follow his declaration of ardent admiration with a litany of the inappropriate behaviors he had perceived in her family? What arrogance! No, in pursuing a woman who obviously did not want him, Darcy showed that his vanity was engaged, but his heart was not. Clearly, he is confused by the unfamiliar experience of thinking well of someone whom he considers beneath him. But he does not feel a true and abiding love, and if I cannot have that from a husband, then I will forego having a husband.
Believing she had solved the mystery of Darcy’s proposal, Elizabeth now found herself reflecting on her own behavior in their conversation. An intense blush made her face flame scarlet. Such fury, so unladylike—her words, her tone! Even before he had concluded his proposal, she had very much wanted to hit him—and with all the force as she could muster.
Oh, dear, my rejection demonstrated the truth of every bad thing he believes of my family—that we Bennets are so ill-bred! Well, not Jane, certainly, but he does suspect she is mercenary, based solely on his conviction that money is the root of all marriage. Insufferable man! I am grateful I could confront him about his treatment of Jane and of his former friend, poor Mr. Wickham. My only regret is that I cannot prove to Mr. Darcy how wrong he is about me!
≈≈≈
Sleep did not come easily to Darcy either. Elizabeth flirted with me at Netherfield! I’m certain she did. Even Bingley’s dreadful sister Caroline saw it; why else would that lady have behaved with such jealousy? For Elizabeth to abuse me so unjustly this afternoon after I revealed my heart to her… she was a harridan, a fishwife!
“Such extraordinary rudeness!” he muttered, recalling her furious words:
I have every reason in the world to think ill of you.
You dare not, you cannot deny that you have been
the principal, if not the only means, of dividing
my dear sister Jane from your friend Mr. Bingley,
thereby exposing one to the censure of the world
for caprice and instability and the other to the world’s
derision for her disappointed hopes.
For the first time, Darcy wondered whether he had been wrong about Jane Bennet’s feelings for his friend. While I was encouraging Bingley to quit Netherfield because I believed Miss Bennet was indifferent, is it possible the lady had true regard for him? The sort of regard I believed Elizabeth had for me?
If Elizabeth’s condemnation of his behavior had stopped with Jane and Bingley, Darcy believed he could have salvaged the situation. Unfortunately, she then accused him of dishonorable behavior in the extreme toward their mutual acquaintance George Wickham. That she would believe Wickham’s lies about me is irrefutable evidence of her inability to recognize both the truth and a man of quality. I am grateful she refused me! My only regret is that she does not know how misguided she is about Wickham’s character and mine!
Darcy ignored the twinge of conscience reminding him that his father and his sister, Georgiana, had also been deceived by Wickham. Instead, he reflected on his initial impressions of Elizabeth Benet. At first, he had scarcely acknowledged her as pretty, looking at her without admiration; when next they met, he looked at her only to criticize. But no sooner had he told his friends that she hardly had a good feature than he began to find her face rendered uncommonly intelligent by the beautiful expression in her dark eyes. While he had detected more than one failure of perfect symmetry in Elizabeth’s form, he could not deny that her figure was light and pleasing. And although her manners were not those of the fashionable world, her easy playfulness captivated him.
“But,” he muttered, “her behavior this afternoon, her fierce disdain….” He trailed off when, suddenly, an image of Elizabeth in all her outraged glory filled his thoughts, and he wondered what it would be like to have her speak with such passion in defense of or out of love for him.
3
“Impertinence, thy name is Elizabeth Bennet.”
April 26, 1811
Despite having had only a few hours of sleep, Elizabeth woke at dawn as usual but lingered in the bed. Upon recognizing a reluctance to encounter Darcy, she chided herself, I must not be missish! Surely, he is as eager to avoid me as I am to avoid him. And in the highly unlikely event that feelings of honor or guilt compel him to explain his transgressions against Jane or Mr. Wickham—well, he simply would not explain himself because … because he is Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy. Tomorrow he and the colonel will return to London—and farewell and good riddance, I say! And yet would I explain myself to him if I coul
d? Would I take back anything I said yesterday? No!
But after a moment’s reflection, she admitted to herself, Well, I do wish I could make my tone and words less harsh, but solely for the sake of my character, my reputation as a gentleman’s daughter, and not for Mr. Darcy’s comfort.
Sighing, Elizabeth left her bed, pulled on her plainest walking dress, and quietly slipped out of the parsonage. However, she avoided her preferred paths, striking out in a new direction and praying no one would see her.
By the end of her longer-than-usual ramble, she had decided two things: She would not tell anyone of Darcy’s proposal, and she would put her turbulent thoughts into writing. Although she did not know what she would ultimately do with these scribbles, she hoped putting her thoughts on paper would free her from endlessly reliving the unpleasant conversation.
≈≈≈
Fitzwilliam was sitting alone in the breakfast room at Rosings with a cup of coffee before him and a newspaper by his empty plate. “Is your headache better?” he asked when Darcy entered.
“A bit.” Darcy poured himself a cup of coffee.
“Miss Elizabeth had the same malady, did she not? Is some illness going around?”
“Perhaps it is the delight of Aunt Catherine’s company,” he grumbled. Scowling at what was absent from the sideboard, he looked at his cousin’s plate. “Fitz, did you eat all of the scones?”
“I had only two. Kindly recall that three other people break their fast here every morning.”
“Ah, yes. Where are the ladies?”
“It is half past ten! They have eaten and wandered off to do whatever they do. No doubt Aunt Catherine is conspiring with other evil witches in the neighborhood to produce a love potion that will move you to finally offer marriage to Anne.”
Darcy ignored everything his cousin said except the time. “Half-ten? I must have forgotten to wind my watch.”
“Did not Powers wake you? Darcy, your valet is so perfect he is the standard for all of the other valets in the kingdom.”
“Powers did wake me at the usual time, but I said I wished to sleep. I believe he is seeing to my trunks now. Were you waiting to speak to me about something?”
“I wish to confirm that we are leaving tomorrow. As you have changed our departure date twice, I am not certain of your plans.”
“Yes, we leave tomorrow. There is but one task left, and Anne and I will take care of it this evening.”
“You and Anne? Oh dear lord, do not tell me you and she—”
“We shall inform Aunt Catherine that we will not marry. So, pack your bags, cousin.”
“Will you indeed?” Fitzwilliam said in amused surprise. “Excuse me while I make certain my battle gear is at hand.” Giving a Darcy a crisp salute, he left the dining room.
≈≈≈
As was their custom, Anne and Mrs. Jenkinson were relaxing in the small sitting room that adjoined Anne’s bedroom. On the small table between their chairs were cups of tea and some newspapers. “What I shall miss most when my cousins leave is that we will no longer receive their newspapers, Nora. I have enjoyed our discussions of world events,” Anne said, sighing.
“Yes. If only Lady Catherine would subscribe to a newspaper.”
“Even if Mama did, I doubt she would share it for fear it might upset my delicate constitution,” Anne said theatrically, and the ladies laughed.
“Will you not miss the gentlemen’s company?”
“They are scarcely company for me. Each year, Darcy is more reserved, and we’ve seen very little of Christopher this visit. He has been so busy with estate business.”
“Still, your cousins take good care of Rosings.”
“I am grateful to them, as I have no interest in such things, were it even possible to wrest this pile from Mama’s grasp.”
“Your father’s passing—I believe it preceded that of Mr. Darcy’s father.”
“Yes, Uncle Darcy passed shortly before you came here to stay with me. That was the only time Christopher visited Rosings alone.” There was a teasing sparkle in her eyes as she added, “Now I shall tell you something I have kept to myself, dear Nora.”
With a conspiratorial laugh, Mrs. Jenkinson leaned near. “Yes, tell me a secret.”
“The first year you were here, I felt jealous when my cousins visited. Not jealous of Darcy, but everyone likes Christopher; I was afraid you would prefer his company to mine.”
“Oh, my dear Anne, that will never happen! Make no mistake, I do like your cousins—well, I have barely spoken to Mr. Darcy, nor he to me—but the colonel has such an open friendliness about him. He reminds me of my brother, Peter.”
“I envy your having a brother and that he is a successful solicitor—how very useful! Perhaps someday when you and I go off on our annual escape to Bath, we can arrange a detour to Brighton so that I may finally meet this paragon.”
“I would like that as well.” For several moments, the women contemplated a pleasant future they called “someday.”
“Well, that day may come sooner than expected once Darcy and I disabuse Mama of the notion of our union.” Anne added tea to Mrs. Jenkinson’s nearly empty cup before refilling her own; it was the fond gesture of a close friend rather than that of a lady and her paid companion.
“I think you should strategize with both of your cousins to ensure a united front. When you confront Lady Catherine, it will be a battle, not a conversation.” In her thoughts, Mrs. Jenkinson routinely substituted “Lady Dragon” for “Lady Catherine”; however, she preferred not to think about her employer.
“You are right, as always. Oh, Nora, would you mind terribly asking Christopher and Darcy to meet with me? I would send a servant, but I do not want anyone telling tales to Mama.”
“Depend on me.”
“Darcy said it is past time that he married. Might he have a tendre for Elizabeth Bennet?”
“He cannot keep his eyes off her, but his mien is so severe, I dare not guess his intentions.”
Anne laughed. “He has never had Christopher’s ease in social settings. In some ways, Darcy’s and my situations are the same; because we are rich, we are fair game for fortune hunters. Yet, here in Kent, I am not pursued by marriage-minded mamas, as he is in London. And his sense of duty! How can one choose a bride when one fears disappointing the ghosts of generations past?”
“What do you think of Miss Elizabeth?”
“I like her. As you and I have observed, the lady’s ability to express herself with honesty, wit, and graciousness has quite vexed Mama. If Elizabeth offered lessons in impertinence, I would pay for her to teach me.”
“Perhaps this is precisely the quality which has attracted your cousin. She does not simper or flatter or demand his attention.”
“It would be just like Darcy to want the one lady who is not interested in him, rather than all the fashionable ladies who fling them themselves at his feet. I do feel sorry for him sometimes.”
≈≈≈
When the maid showed Colonel Fitzwilliam into the parlor at Hunsford Parsonage, Mr. Collins expressed his pleasure at being visited by the nephew of his patroness. “Good day, sir. You honor me with your attention. I am at a loss for words to express my admiration for the kindness and devotion you demonstrate to Lady Catherine with your annual visits to ensure the efficient management of Rosings.” Then, using far too many words (in Fitzwilliam’s opinion), he rattled on for several minutes saying nothing of note.
When the prattling parson finally drew a breath, Fitzwilliam quickly said, “I have a question, sir, and I am told you might be the most reliable source to address my inquiry.”
“You need only ask, Colonel.”
Holding up a slim bottle labeled Dr. Nicoll’s Miraculous Medication for De-Worming Horses and Other Large Animals, Fitzwilliam said, “This tonic was in the stable. I am told it was a gift from you.”
With as much false humility as he could manage, Collins said, “Yes. A paltry offering, I admit, but I am always seekin
g opportunities to express my gratitude to her ladyship for granting me the privilege of ministering to the flock here in Kent.” What he did not say aloud was, Ah-ha, the efforts of my brilliant brother have brought me to the attention of her ladyship’s nephew. Already my investment in Donald’s endeavors has reaped benefits!
“Did you purchase this tonic locally?”
“I did not, sir.” Does he want to invest in Donald’s business? But if he invests, my share would be reduced.
“Allow me to speak plainly, Mr. Collins. A bottle of this tonic was used in one of the army’s stables, and as a result several horses were sickened, and one died.”
Impossible! My brother would never harm a dumb animal! In a cool tone, Collins said, “You must be mistaken, sir. I cannot believe Dr. Nicoll’s tonic had any damaging effect.”
“I assure you it did. There is a very angry major general whose favorite horse is no more. Thus, I am curious, sir, as to your source for this tonic.”
After a silence, Collins said stiffly, “Alas, I have searched my memory, and I cannot recall.”
You, sir, are a liar! “Well, if the memory returns, Mr. Collins, His Majesty’s army wishes to be apprised. Good day to you.” With a short bow, Fitzwilliam left the study.
“I must tell Donald,” Collins muttered. Sitting at the desk where he composed his sermons, he wrote a hurried letter to his brother detailing the colonel’s assertions about the tonic.
≈≈≈
After nuncheon at the parsonage, Elizabeth excused herself, saying she wished to take a nap. Once in her room with the door securely closed, she sat at a small desk, sharpened three pens, and put her ink pot and writing paper within easy reach. During her morning walk, she had given much thought to what she wished to tell Darcy. She wanted to castigate him for his unkind treatment of Jane. She wanted him to know of her disdain for the arrogant, overbearing behavior he seemed to believe was the mark of a gentleman. And most of all, she wanted to prove that she was more ladylike than she had shown herself to be during their argument.
