A New Bride for Pemberley

by Anna Harlow

  “Oh! Mr. Darcy! Forgive me—I had no notion anyone was about.”

  “Miss Bennet, do you often walk out alone and unprotected, and then fail to notice when a man is standing right behind you?” he wanted to know. “That seems a bit concerning. Have you not heard that the militia will be here soon?”

  Elizabeth smiled. “Yes, sir, I believe their arrival parade is happening tomorrow. Why else would I be enjoying my last bit of freedom today? And you? What brings you out into the fields?”

  “I find it—difficult—to be confined, Miss Bennet,” he admitted. “I think my proclivity to have space, and to be unhindered, played an ample role in my departure the other day.”

  “Then you were not thinking of—your loss, sir?”

  Darcy grimaced. “I do not know you well, Miss Elizabeth, but I think you have misunderstood something I could easily correct. I was married for six years to my cousin, to whom I was betrothed at birth. We cared for each other, of course, but the match was never about love, and neither one of us exhibited any signs of it with regard to the other. Naturally, we became close, but it went no farther. No, I think you will find my skittishness to be a more personal matter.”

  “But does not such a trouble interfere with you running your estate, sir? I had heard from all the gossipers that your holdings are large and excessive. How can you be so shy of people, yet manage to maintain such a place?”

  “I also maintain stewards who oversee the individual properties,” he explained, shrugging. “It is much easier to manage seven men than it is to enter a ball room filled with two hundred. I’m sure you must see the difference.”

  “Yes,” Elizabeth agreed, smiling. “And it helps that these seven men are known to you, while the two hundred dancers probably are not.”

  “I see you comprehend me, Miss Elizabeth,” he said, smiling slightly in return. “Yet, this is not a place we should be conversing, do you not think?”

  “Sir, we are hardly in London, and we came across one another legitimately,” she told him. “I do not think anyone would find it improper to exchange a greeting. Yet, it is far and away time that I went home. I must dress for the dinner party.”

  “I, as well.”

  “Then you are certain of coming?” Elizabeth clarified. “I was not sure if you would be…ready for that either.”

  “You have offered to help,” he reminded her. “With a kind young woman at my side, perhaps the evening might be more easily endured.”

  “Yes, I should like that, sir,” she agreed. “I will see you later.”

  Now that they had spoken briefly, Elizabeth could not seem to shake the warm feeling that took ahold of her as she walked briskly home. A smile played about her lips, as she longed for the hour when the guests would begin to arrive. Of course, all it took to wipe the smile away was to step through the front door and be greeted by her cousin.

  “Cousin Elizabeth, there you are!” he said, capturing her hand and kissing the back of it. “I began to despair of you ever returning, and your sisters, while entertaining enough for a few hours, have not the ready wit I have come to enjoy from you.”

  “Mary is quite learned in Biblical matters, sir, and takes great pleasure in playing the piano,” Elizabeth pointed out. “Either of those two traits could easily be enjoyed. I fear that I make a poor companion once the season becomes warmer.”

  “Yet tomorrow, as I understand, we shall all walk out together to Meryton, to see the officer’s parade and greet the troops,” he reminded her with a smile. “I am looking forward to it, dear cousin, for I am also an excellent walker. I am certain I will be able to keep up with you.”

  “Mr. Collins, my own sisters cannot keep apace. I will find no fault in you if you cannot do so,” she assured him, even as she considered the notion of running, if it ensured he would not be beside her when she reached town.

  “Have no fear, my dear, I shall triumph in the matter.”

  “Excuse me, Mr. Collins, I must go up and see about my attire for the night,” she said then. “For, I have yet to decide upon the gown, and I must wash away the dirt of the road before I shall manage to wear it. Pray, forgive me.”

  In her room, Elizabeth waited while some of the servants prepared her bath. Unclothed, she soaked for a while, eliminating at least some of the stress from knowing that Mr. Collins would probably make her an offer. She would have to refuse him if he did so. She had vowed a very long time ago that only the deepest love would ever induce her to marry. And he was not the sort of gentleman who could ever induce her to such feelings.

  If there was such a man in the world, he would be tall, handsome, and intelligent—much more like Mr. Darcy. Not that she was thinking of marrying the handsome widower, of course. Certainly not. How could such a proper and serious gentleman ever make her happy?

  Yet, she knew she was not giving him a fair chance by dismissing him in that way. Oftentimes, a gentleman might seem one way in company, but be quite different when he was at his leisure. At least today he had actually smiled briefly. And, understanding that he disliked to be in a large group explained away his behavior from the other day. So perhaps, upon closer inspection, those aspects which she now viewed as faults might well fade away.

  “I am not interested in Mr. Darcy,” she muttered to herself, but it didn’t work. Her mind continued to dwell on the gentleman. When she dressed for dinner, it was not Mr. Collins whose tastes she hoped to please, but those of Pemberley’s Master.

  And what was wrong with that? Bingley’s advice may not have been meant for her ears, but it was just as valid. If she did not step forward, how would she ever know whether or not there was any potential? How was she ever to fall in love if, when presented with a man who managed to meet more than one of her criteria, she did not attempt a search for more?

  “Lizzy, there you are!” said Lydia. “Mr. Collins is driving the rest of us to distraction, waiting on you. Oh, and you look quite well, too. Are you finally going to try to catch his eye?”

  “I have no desire whatsoever to catch our cousin’s eye, I can assure you,” Elizabeth replied. “Mr. Collins does not suit me, nor would I suit him if he would open his eyes.”

  “Still, I really wish you would try, for the sake of us all,” Lydia said with a sigh. “The sooner he leaves, the happier he will make me!”

  Chapter Eight

  It had been a long time since Darcy felt so nervous or excited to attend a party. His chance meeting with Elizabeth Bennet left him hopeful that, if nothing else, he might pass the evening with a kind and intelligent young woman who was not his sister for a change. With Anne, he had never felt such uncertainty about where things would go between them. He had never felt much excitement about it, either. In that instance, it was simply duty. Nothing more.

  Yet now, he felt alive in a way he had never known before. It was more than a sexual attraction, more than a meeting of the minds. Something about her made every part of him stop and take notice. No matter where that feeling might lead, he was at least glad to know he was capable of feeling it, and that he was at liberty to do so.

  Georgiana opting not to come along was no surprise. She preferred to remain with Francesca. More often than not, his sister did not tolerated large companies any more than he did. He supposed the fault rested on his father, who had lost his wife in the birthing of his daughter and had never remarried. A single man, uninterested in seeking a wife, is not as likely to hold large parties, however suitable his manor might be for it.

  Darcy went to school in London and did his social duty as well as the next gentleman. He just did not particularly enjoy it. Though, he supposed if his next wife were inclined to such things, he would indulge her in it. He would not wish to deprive someone of a pursuit they truly loved.

  Already, as he thought it, Darcy found himself beginning to picture that wife as Miss Elizabeth Bennet, though he tried not to. He ought not to fall for the first pretty face he saw, but he could scarcely help it. Besides, he had seen several
pretty faces all in a row, and hers was the one that appealed to him the most. So, he should not scold himself. He should simply allow whatever was to happen. He always worried over things far too much.

  “Darcy, are you dressed yet?” Bingley complained at the door. “Some of us would like to be on the road by now.”

  “Yes,” he said, coming out into the hall. “I was a bit nervous and ruined my cravat, but I suppose I have remedied it now.”

  “Nervous, Darcy?” Bingley laughed. “What have you to be nervous over? I’m the one who is attempting to impress a girl. Unless you’ve something you want to tell me?”

  “Not at all,” Darcy lied. “I have no particular interest at Longbourn tonight.”

  Bingley smirked, clearly not believing him. “Well, then, you have certainly went out of your way to look nice for nothing, haven’t you?”

  “I am simply wearing what suits me for once,” Darcy grumbled. “You know that I am still confined to black, so why not do something to liven it up a little, at least?”

  “You look well, sir,” Bingley reassured him. “Do try to enjoy yourself tonight, won’t you? A dance may have been too overwhelming for your first outing, I admit, but a dinner party offers a better opportunity to meet some of the neighbors without so much anxiety. And the Bennets are quite lovely people, from what I have observed. It is certain you will not be judged harshly.”

  “Except, perhaps, by the mother,” Darcy replied, remembering her words from before. Bingley had not heard them since he had left with Miss Bennet for a dance, and they did not bear repeating, as far as Darcy was concerned, so his friend had never been told.

  Caroline was wearing a dress which would have been much better suited to a drawing room in London than in the country, but one could not tell if this was to show off the fact she could afford such a gown, or simply the fact that she’d had no time to order something more in the country style. In either case, Darcy was certain that the young ladies would envy her—and probably hate her for it as well. That was the manner of most females.

  They rode over in the carriage, since the coach was not necessary on such a warm evening. As they entered the park, Darcy was impressed by the size of the herb garden near the front of the building, and noticed they even had a hothouse. It was certain that many of the herbs must be sold at market—a most suitable undertaking for a house full of women.

  Though the estate was nothing compared to Pemberley, or even to Netherfield, the house was large and comfortable, more of a welcoming place than anything else, and Darcy immediately felt quite at home. Mrs. Bennet welcomed all three of them warmly, much to his relief, and did not revisit her disgust with him. But, he could only assume she was keeping the opinion to herself in order to be polite.

  “Good evening, Mrs. Bennet,” he said, bowing to her.

  “Mr. Darcy, you are welcome to our home. My daughter, Elizabeth, tells me that you were unwell the other evening. I hope you are feeling better now?”

  “Thank you, madam, I am quite recovered.”

  “I am glad to hear it, sir. Dinner will not be served for a little while yet. We have all gathered in the parlor. Please make yourself comfortable.”

  Darcy would have loved to do so, had there been a place beside Miss Elizabeth available. The last person he expected to see was seated there. Mr. Collins, the man his aunt has recently installed in the Hunsford parsonage. He looked up, and recognition dawned in his eyes.

  “Mr. Darcy? Of all the people!” he exclaimed, coming over to shake his hand. “I had thought you’d still be at home, sir, pining for your beloved Anne.”

  “I have never been one to sit idly, sir,” Darcy said with a slight shrug. “My wife had been sickly most of her life. It is no great surprise that the birthing of a child should take her—I warned my aunt of it many times. But pray tell, what are you doing here?”

  “Longbourn estate is the home of my cousin, John Bennet, sir,” he said. In a lower tone he added, “Since there is no son, it is entailed to me, but I am hoping to soon remedy that trouble, if you take my meaning.”

  The slight smile, along with a look in Elizabeth’s direction, could leave no doubt what he meant, though Darcy could wish otherwise. He asked, “You have an understanding, then?”

  “No, sir, I have not yet made my offer. But in this case, I am confident of the reply.”

  “I see,” Darcy said as all his dreams for the evening came crashing down around his feet. “If that is the case, sir, then allow me to wish you happy.”

  Glancing over the man’s shoulder, his eyes met Elizabeth’s, and she rolled hers. Darcy suppressed the bubble of joyful mirth and maintained an even countenance, merely nodding at her.

  “Forgive me, sir, I must return to her side, before anyone else tries to sit with her. Elizabeth is such a sweet girl. She would never think of turning away another person, and I would be left to my own devices, as I have been before.”

  Darcy was forced to endure an evening of watching Mr. Collins not even realizing he was failing badly, and Elizabeth doing her best to tolerate him despite the fact he was clearly getting on her nerves. Worse, during the meal he was situated between Caroline and Mr. Bennet, and each of them wanted one of his ears. Mr. Bennet wished to talk of hounds, horses, and shooting birds. Caroline wished to whisper about the inelegance of the décor, their misfortune at finding Mr. Collins at dinner, and the cheap, country fashions worn by each of the girls.

  It was not until the meal ended, the men took their port, and the party was all gathered again in the parlor that things began to look up. The servants had brought in several tables so they could all play cards, and Bingley insisted that Darcy must partner him at a table, and informed him that Jane’s partner was to be her sister, Elizabeth. If Darcy was given to displays of emotion, a huge sigh of relief would soon have followed, for Caroline was already eyeing him hopefully, and he wanted nothing more to do with her.

  “I shall, of course, join your table, sir,” he said, bowing slightly toward the two sisters. “I cannot think of a more agreeable set of companions.”

  “Nor can I,” Elizabeth agreed. “My dinner companion has been prattling on about furniture incessantly—and besides, I happen to know he does not know a heart from a spade. I hate to speak ill of anybody, but in this case—”

  “Do not worry, Miss Elizabeth, I cannot blame you. I know precisely what you mean.”

  Chapter Nine

  Mr. Collins was seated quite nearby, Elizabeth realized. Giving each other a slight grimace, she and Mr. Darcy glanced over to see if they had been overheard, but the gentleman was listening attentively to Mary as she instructed him on the rules of whist. As to whether or not he fully comprehended them remained to be seen, since he certainly made mistakes with every other card game she’d attempted with him before this.

  “How long has Mr. Collins been visiting, if I might ask? I only inquire because he is a recent addition to the clergymen near my aunt’s estate, and it was through her patronage that he was instated there.”

  “I’ll grant that he is excellent at giving longwinded sermons,” Elizabeth replied, smirking. “If reading to us from the Bible for hours is his behavior in a domestic setting, I must wonder at anyone escaping the church at a decent hour.”

  “I would not know,” Darcy admitted. “I have not yet had the pleasure. My aunt came to Pemberley for a while, before returning home to mourn. She had but one child, and completely doted on her. I know not how she manages now that she is gone, for I have had no letter in the month since her departure.”

  “I wonder that you have come out into the world at all, Mr. Darcy, with such a recent loss.”

  “In truth, Miss Bennet, I believe I have been away from the world too long,” he explained. “My wife was quite sickly throughout her life, but never so sick as she became after the birth of our daughter. Though she lived on for six months, she never fully recovered, and she could not even feed the child herself. She had very little to do with her. My sister
Georgina volunteered to come home from her finishing school to care for Francesca, since Anne could not. It had always been expected that she would improve, but such was not the case.”

  “Such a melancholy topic for a card game,” Bingley pointed out. “Why do you not tell Miss Elizabeth about your daughter instead? There’s a topic that will brighten him up. Never have I seen a more devoted father than Mr. Darcy.”

  “How old is your daughter now, sir?” Elizabeth asked him.

  “She has just turned ten months old,” he said, and there was an affectionate light in his eyes.

  “And what progress does she make, sir? Sitting up? Crawling? Walking?”