Win, Lose, or Darcy

by Jennifer Joy

  Jane squeezed her arm into her side. "Everything will look better after a good night's rest."

  Cheering at her sister's optimism, Elizabeth determined within herself not to increase her family's burden by adding to their melancholy. She would walk through the fields she had missed on the morrow and all would be well. They would begin again for as long as they were free. She would walk in the direction of Netherfield Park.

  Darcy wanted a bath almost as much as he wanted to see Elizabeth, but priorities were priorities. He and Bingley decided that they would ride by the Bennet's townhouse on the way to their own homes, though the detour was not exactly on their route.

  His heart pounded in his chest. What did he expect? That she would happen to be standing at a window facing the street and that she would grace him with a smile while reassuring him that she had refused Gordon? He smoothed his cravat and straightened his hat just in case, hoping that the maid had neglected washing the windows, so that Elizabeth would not have to see the stubble covering his chin or the dirt stains on his coat.

  He looked up to a lifeless window. Though the day was warm, no fluttering curtains were visible. Every opening was shut tight and the house looked empty.

  "This is the address, is it not?" asked Bingley.

  "Yes. This is their residence." Anticipating Bingley's next question, he added, "Though where the residents may be is a mystery to me." Darcy looked up and down the street, but he saw no sign of any of the Bennets.

  He turned his horse in the direction of Grosvenor Square. "It is clear that they are gone, and I know who will know where they have relocated, but first, we must clean up. Shall we meet at Gordon's in an hour?" Had the dandy proposed?

  Bingley hesitated, but ultimately agreed. Darcy understood. He did not want to take a break from their pursuit any longer than his friend did, but certain standards must be maintained. A man could not see the love of his life smelling like a sweaty horse.

  Bates, whom Darcy had instructed to return to London upon his departure from Pemberley, had water on the stove before he could dismount his horse. Working efficiently, Bates clipped and shaved in record time while polishing the scuffs out of Darcy's boots and seeing to a change of clothes.

  Within the hour, Darcy skipped up Gordon's steps and was seen into the parlor where Bingley also sat waiting, bobbing one leg up and down impatiently.

  “Have you been waiting long?” asked Darcy.

  “I have only just arrived.”

  Gordon walked in, his customary wide grin tempered by something more grave. “Ah, I expected you, Darcy. I did not know to expect you, Bingley. This is a pleasant surprise. For which Bennet sister do you carry a torch? Or let me guess… Miss Bennet. It could not be Miss Elizabeth, or Darcy would look at you as he does me— like he would rather club me in the nose.”

  Bingley nodded.

  “Do not tempt me, Gordon,” mumbled Darcy.

  Gordon sat heavily across from them. “I thought myself in love with Miss Elizabeth for a time. You and I are similar in nature, I think,” he said to Bingley. “We fall in love much too easily and out of it just as seamlessly until, with no warning, a lady— in my case, one whom I have known my entire life— becomes absolutely necessary in our life. So vital does she become, it feels impossible to wake unless there is the chance of seeing her that day.”

  Darcy melted in his chair. Leaning forward to brace himself against his knees, he said, “You are in love with Sophia?”

  The miserable aspect on Gordon’s face made Darcy chuckle.

  “I apologize, Gordon. I do not mean to be insensitive to your plight. Only it strikes me as… perfect. I wish you both very happy.”

  Gordon groaned. “If only I can convince Sophia it is not you, but me whom she wants.”

  Darcy said, “You will.”

  Stretching his legs out in front of him and leaning back in his chair, Gordon chuckled. “I am having a great deal of fun planning my attack. I know that she loves me, but it is devilishly difficult to have patience enough for her to figure it out!”

  Bingley laughed with him. “Now that sounds more like the Gordon I know. You had me concerned for a moment, and it is a relief to see that all is well in the world again.”

  Gordon sat up again. “Now that you are here, it will be. I know why you have come and so will inform you of certain events which happened in your absence.” He grew grave again, and Darcy braced himself for bad news.

  “Why are the Bennets gone?” he asked, giving Gordon a point from which to start his telling.

  “Do you remember Mr. Andrich’s bank?” asked Gordon.

  Darcy’s heart sank down to his toes. “It would have been difficult not to hear of it. It was all over the papers.”

  Gordon continued, “Mr. Bennet, evidently having some success investing with him in the past, put everything in his bank the day before Mr. Andrich tried to flee the country. He lost everything.”

  They sat in silence, mourning the Bennets’ loss.

  “Do you know where they have gone?” asked Darcy.

  “I found out from their coachman. You see, when I found out what had happened, I did good by my promise to you, and I found little ways to ease their burden. I canceled a couple of Mrs. Bennet’s outstanding gambling debts— one of which was to my own mother! I purchased their carriage and horses, allowing it to convey them back to their home in Hertfordshire before it returned to me today.”

  “Longbourn,” said Bingley in a dreamy voice. Darcy could see his mind at work like the gears of a clock. Slapping his thigh, Bingley said, “I will send the servants to Netherfield Park straight away to ready the house. In fact, I will go with them. If Jane is there, then that is where I must be.”

  Darcy struggled not to let his emotions get the better of him. He would march out to his horse that moment and gallop the distance to Longbourn so he could see Elizabeth that same day. But her family was in trouble, and he would make it his business to know how bad the damage was.

  “They arrived at Longbourn only recently, then?” he pressed.

  “They must have arrived last night,” replied Gordon.

  “It will not be easy for them to return thus humbled. Their situation would be worse off than before.” Darcy rubbed his tingling hands against his breeches.

  Standing, he thanked Gordon. “I appreciate what you have done. You are a good man, Gordon, and I wish you success in your endeavors.”

  Gordon stood and slapped Darcy on the shoulder in a mock embrace. “So long as my ‘endeavor’ cooperates. My, but the chase is diverting! She did get away from me once, but I do not think any harm came of it. I wish you the best in your ‘endeavor’ as well. And you, too, Bingley.” He slapped Bingley on the shoulder when he stood to join them.

  They departed as good of friends as they had ever been, each keen on his purpose. Darcy’s confidence bolstered at the knowledge that he was in good company, he turned to Bingley as the stable boy handed them their reins. “I have a call to make at Gracechurch Street. Will you join me?”

  Chapter 36

  “Mr. Bennet, I must insist that you write to Mr. Collins this very day,” said Mother as she followed Father around the house.

  Finally, Father turned to pay Mother the attention she sought. “Pray tell, Mrs. Bennet, why I am to write to a gentleman who proclaimed that he wanted nothing to do with our family?”

  Elizabeth watched the scene before her. It was infinitely more interesting than the cookery book she made herself read. She was convinced that her talents did not lie in the kitchen and that her family was doomed to subsist on undercooked potatoes and burned cuts of meat, but she had to try. They could not afford to keep a cook.

  Mother puffed a strand of hair off her forehead. “He must marry Lizzy, of course. He liked her enough to propose once, and I think that if we encouraged him, he would have no reason not to propose again.”

  Elizabeth held her breath and snapped the book of receipts shut.

  Father raised hi
s ink-stained finger in the air. “I will not write to Mr. Collins. Lizzy has already refused him once, and no gentleman, no matter how disagreeable he may be, deserves to be refused twice. Now, I must get back to work on my manuscript.”

  Mother blustered, “But she would accept him this time.”

  Father looked at Elizabeth, who violently shook her head.

  Placing one hand on Mother’s shoulder, he leaned forward until he matched her height. “I do not expect any of our daughters to sacrifice their happiness to cover over our mistakes, dear.”

  “Not even to keep us out of debtor’s prison?” she retorted.

  “I will not write to Mr. Collins, and that is that. What I do intend to do today is to ride over the property and converse with the renters once my chapter is complete. Mr. Phillips believes that I must establish better communication with them, and I think it is high time I heed his advice.”

  Elizabeth expected Mother to huff in disagreement over not getting her way, but instead, she watched over her shoulder as Father left, her mouth open and a look Elizabeth could not ever remember seeing on her face. Admiration.

  Mother walked to the open front door and waved to Father as he mounted their old horse. Father smiled at her display of affection and Elizabeth nearly toppled over in her chair when he blew Mother a kiss.

  With a giggle of pleasure, Mother caught his kiss in the air and blew one back at him.

  Elizabeth looked around the empty drawing room. She wanted to share her delight and surprise with someone, but everyone else was busy seeing to their new tasks around the home.

  Blushing like a schoolgirl, Mother breezed past Elizabeth to the garden behind the kitchen. She said nothing of Mr. Collins or of Elizabeth’s failure to marry during their short time in London. A sweet breeze flowed through the room, and Elizabeth could not help but feel that the wind had changed for the Bennet household. She had no reason to think it, but she felt that all would be well.

  The crunching of horses’ hooves and carriage wheels called her attention to the front of the house. It was an elegant coach with a family seal emblazoned in gilded letters on the side. Elizabeth watched as it passed, but was brought to her feet when, instead, it entered their drive and proceeded toward the house.

  Two servants wearing matching uniforms appeared. One opened the door and held his hand out while the other unloaded a bag from the luggage compartment.

  Elizabeth stepped outside just as the manservant handed Mary out of the coach.

  With a smile adorning her face, Mary skipped to Elizabeth and embraced her, rocking back and forth and adding to Elizabeth’s contentedness. Could this day get any better?

  Mother, Jane, Kitty, and Lydia soon joined them, and it grew difficult to hear anything over the chatter and flood of questions.

  “Let us go inside,” suggested Jane, leading Mary by the hand into the drawing room.

  Mary stepped into the middle of the room and turned around. “I have missed this place.”

  Elizabeth saw the room through Mary’s eyes. The furniture stood where it had been since she could remember. Every scratch and worn cushion was in the same familiar place. The paintings on the walls, faded with age and exposure to the morning sun through the windows, and the clutter of their attempts over the years to master the ladylike pursuits of embroidery and drawing, as well as their much younger attempts to make their own toys made Elizabeth feel cherished. Mother had kept every failed attempt and displayed them like works of art around their home. Odd how she had never appreciated that before.

  “What brings you home?” asked Mother.

  “Did they kick you out of the orphanage when they realized you had a family?” teased Lydia.

  Mary clasped her hands together and smiled. “I am engaged,” she announced.

  Exclamations of joy filled the room, but Lydia was none too pleased. “You? Engaged? And before me?”

  “Lydia!” chastised Jane. “We are happy for Mary’s good fortune and wish to share in her happiness.”

  Pouting, Lydia grumbled, “Of all of us, she was to be the spinster, and I was to marry before all of you.”

  Mary said with a straight face, “I am sorry to have disturbed your plans.”

  “Who is the gentleman? Is he rich?” asked Mother.

  Mary blushed. “He is not rich, but he stands to inherit a lovely estate someday.”

  “Someday? What do you have to wait for— someone to die?” pressed Mother.

  “I would no sooner wish to inherit an estate prematurely than I would wish for Father to die,” replied Mary.

  Elizabeth’s breath caught in her throat as the hint of a suspicion grew.

  Mother said, “I had hoped that Lizzy would marry Mr. Collins and secure our home should such a sad event occur…” She ended her sentence with a sigh.

  Mary reached over and held Elizabeth’s hand. She was so much more affectionate than Elizabeth remembered her to be. It was a welcome change.

  “Do not say that, Mother. Had it not been for Lizzy’s refusal of Mr. Collins, I never would have had a chance with him.”

  It took a moment, but Mother finally caught on to Mary’s meaning.

  “Mr. Collins?” she gasped, her hand hovering over her mouth. “You will marry Mr. Collins?” she repeated more to herself than asked to Mary.

  Elizabeth squeezed Mary’s hand. “I had no idea that you loved Mr. Collins.”

  “The day Mr. Collins proposed to you, I was the most miserable creature. I cannot say that I loved him, but I have always known myself to be best suited to marry a clergyman. Mr. Collins will benefit from my practical sense, and I will be able to help others as I have always desired to do with his position under a generous patroness. We will be happy enough together, I am certain.”

  “How did this come about? I thought Mr. Collins had returned to Hunsford to seek a wife,” asked Jane.

  Mother interrupted, “Oh, who cares how it came about! Mary is to marry Mr. Collins, and our home is secure!” She clasped her hands together and sighed in pleasure.

  Lydia huffed, curious despite her ill-humor. “I want to hear how it happened.”

  Mary, being happy to oblige and for once in her life having reason to be the center of attention, sat down to begin her tale.

  “As you know, Mr. Collins’ patroness is none other than Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Once a year, Lady Catherine travels to London where she inspects each of her charitable causes. Mr. Collins says that she does it out of a sense of interest in seeing how she can better help, but I think she does it to see how her money is spent and to criticize the institution if she feels that her patronage is not touted to her standards.”

  Elizabeth bit her lips together and chuckled. She did not know Lady Catherine, but she had heard enough about the great lady to concur with Mary’s assessment of her character.

  Mary continued, “It so happens that the orphanage I was at is one of her favorite causes. When it became known that she was to visit, I was assigned the privilege of showing her around and pointing out the various improvements. Many of them were her own suggestions— things like a new pianoforte to practice music on and a mirror over the fireplace in the dining room when the children had more use for new shoes and coats.” Mary shook her head at the superfluity of it all.

  “You did not butt heads with her, did you?” asked Kitty.

  Mary scowled. “Absolutely not. I behaved in a perfectly mannerly fashion, reciting passages of Fordythe’s sermons to calm my mind as the need arose. They have a rather soothing effect, you know.”

  “They always put me to sleep,” contributed Lydia. As it was nothing they did not already know, they looked to Mary to continue.

  “Lady Catherine was impressed with me and commented as much to Mr. Collins. After that, he saw me in a new light and did not delay but three days before he proposed.”

  Mother clapped. “Quick work, my dear! Well done!”

  Mary smiled at Mother. “It is my hope that you might allow me to sta
y here while the banns are read. I know that it is vain of me, but I should very much like to be present in our parish as they are read.” Looking down at her hands, she added, “I know it will come a great surprise to many to hear that I am engaged to be married.”

  “You are welcome for as long as you wish, my dearest daughter,” Mother exclaimed. Interesting how an engagement took her least favorite— no, second least favorite. The position of the least favorite surely belonged to Elizabeth— daughter to her dearest.

  “Is Mr. Collins to join us as well?” asked Jane. Elizabeth could see Jane’s mind working out the details of preparing the guest room.

  “He is honored to travel with Lady Catherine in her carriage on the morrow. She will stop in Meryton where he can lodge without adding any extra burden to our household.” Mary did not say that it had been her idea, but Elizabeth suspected it had.

  “Was the coach Lady Catherine’s?” asked Elizabeth, motioning outside to where the carriage had been.

  “No, Lord Winslow was good enough to let me use it after his arrival,” said Mary.

  “Lord Winslow?” asked Elizabeth. She had no clue as to who the gentleman was.

  Mary’s eyes widened. “You do not know?”

  “Know what?”

  “I will say no more on the subject, so you had best not ask. Charlotte can tell you herself tomorrow evening at the Meryton Assembly.” Mary clamped her lips shut and Elizabeth knew she would learn no more. Tomorrow would take an eternity to dawn.

  Darcy returned home well after dark. It had been a busy day, but also a satisfying one. He and Bingley would have to wait until the morning to leave for Meryton. After much discussion, they had agreed to forsake reaching Meryton early on horseback in favor of arriving clean in Bingley’s coach. Still, they would leave at first light.