Copyright
To Conquer Pride. Copyright © 2018 by Jennifer Altman.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means—including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods—without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Front cover image: Madame Charles Maurice de Talleyrand Périgord (1761–1835) by François Gérard (circa 1804). Public domain.
Cover by Susan Adriani at CloudCat Design.
Dedication
To the one and only Jane Austen,
for creating such memorable characters,
and for allowing me to take them down a slightly different path.
Amor vincit omnia. ~
~ Love conquers all.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Thank You
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Chapter 1
UNDER DIFFERENT CIRCUMSTANCES the rocking of the carriage might have been soothing; however, on this brisk November day, the motion offered little comfort to the compartment’s sole occupant.
Fitzwilliam Darcy stared out the frosted windowpane, but his thoughts were far removed from the passing Kent countryside. From the outset, he had dreaded this journey. Indeed, if it were up to him, he would not have come within fifty miles of Hunsford for as long as he lived. But despite the accusations leveled at him in that very village, Darcy was a man who knew his duty, so when Lady Catherine had requested—nay, demanded—his assistance, he had come. Even so, he kept his visit as brief as possible, arriving yesterday morning and working late into the night. He spoke to no one, save his aunt’s steward, going so far as to take meals in his chambers. And not his usual chambers, either. No, he had made a point of requesting a different apartment. Never again would he step foot in the room where he had dared to dream of a life spent happily with Miss Elizabeth Bennet. The room where he had poured out his soul in that ill-conceived letter…
Releasing a rough sigh, Darcy pressed his forehead to the cold glass. Seven months. It had been seven months since his previous trip to Rosings. Seven months since he had last seen her.
Darcy’s head fell back against the cushions. Just thinking about Elizabeth was like a spill of salt to an open wound—and yet he could do nothing to stop thinking. God knows he had tried.
Oh, it had not been difficult at first. After leaving Rosings, he had gone straight to London to set things right with Bingley, and then there was Wickham to contend with. That endeavor had proven a bit more challenging, but at least it had kept Darcy from dwelling on his disappointed hopes. By mid-summer he was back at Pemberley, and though he made every effort to throw himself into the management of his estate, even the brandy he had taken to consuming on a nightly basis did little to dull his memories. For no matter what he did, Elizabeth Bennet haunted his dreams, both sleeping and awake. Sometimes she would appear to him the way he wished to remember her—her smile radiant, her expression bright with humor. But other times he recalled the way she had looked at him the day of his disastrous proposal—her fine eyes dark with anger.
Had you behaved in a more gentlemanlike manner…
An icy wind swept into the carriage and Darcy started, realizing they were no longer moving. Turning to face the open door, he regarded the footman silhouetted against the lead-gray sky. When Darcy spoke, his voice was tight.
“Why are we stopping? I thought I made it clear I wished to travel straight through.”
Despite his master’s black expression and clipped speech, the footman’s countenance remained carefully composed. “I beg your pardon, Mr. Darcy. This is the last coaching inn before we reach Town. I believe Mr. Johnson thought it prudent to check the state of the roads.”
Darcy lifted his gaze, cursing under his breath as he took in the fat white flakes rapidly descending to join the thick snow already blanketing the ground. Blast! His mind had been so preoccupied; he had not even noticed the worsening conditions.
Turning to his footman, Darcy immediately relaxed his tone. “Of course. Forgive me, Thomas. I had not perceived the change in weather. Johnson was correct to stop.”
His man offered a deferential nod and Darcy moved to the door, exiting the carriage. In the near distance, he could see the retreating form of his driver, heading for the mews. Addressing the footman, Darcy issued instructions to have the horses watered and rested before stalking off in the direction of the inn. Despite his protestations, he was glad to escape the confines of the coach. His legs needed stretching, but more than that, he required a distraction. Anything to keep from continuously reliving those horrible moments at the parsonage.
No, he did not welcome the delay, but perhaps a change of scene would help banish Elizabeth Bennet from his thoughts, even if only for an hour.
***
Elizabeth Bennet pressed through the thickening crowd, the note clutched tightly in her hand. She should have known something was amiss when her uncle was not waiting to meet her. Moving to the nearest window, she stared out at the blowing snow and her shoulders slumped. What had she been thinking, releasing the carriage without being certain someone had arrived to collect her? But before the thought was fully formed, she already knew the answer. She had simply been grateful to get away. Away from Hunsford. Away from Charlotte’s happiness. And most of all, away from the parsonage, where she could still see Mr. Darcy standing before the empty hearth, professing his admiration and his love.
Of course, he had said other things, too. Hateful, horrible things. About her sister. About the inferiority of her connections.
And she had replied in kind.
Elizabeth shook her head and a soft sigh escaped her lips. More than half a year had come and gone since that awful day, and Mr. Darcy clearly had no intention of being in her company ever again. So much so that he had not even bothered to attend the wedding of one of his closest friends.
Not that this had come as a surprise to Elizabeth, given his feelings about the match.
Well, there was nothing to be done for it. Mr. Darcy was out of her life, and despite her desire to leave the area as soon as may be, she would have to remain at the Bell until tomorrow, along with what appeared to be half of Kent.
Elizabeth’s gaze swept the cramped parlor, but every seat was taken. Circling back the way she’d come, she threaded her way towards the outer corridor. Perhaps she would have better luck in the dining room.
***
Entering the Bell, Darcy paused, allowing his eyes to become accustomed to the dim light. The air around him felt overly warm after
the outside chill, and a steady clamor of voices reverberated off the low ceilings. Darcy frowned, already regretting his decision to come inside. Although the inn was no worse than most, and quite a bit better than many, this type of public room filled with strangers never failed to make him uncomfortable.
Shouldering his way through the crowded vestibule, he headed for the saloon, pacing to the front window and staring out at the falling snow. He could only hope the road to London was still passable. He did not wish to be stuck in Kent one moment longer than necessary.
A chorus of restrained titters at a nearby table drew his attention and Darcy turned away from the glass. A congregation of women stared back at him with obvious interest. Darcy’s skin prickled, and he pivoted on his heel, hastily retreating to the relative quiet of the corridor. He would find the proprietor and hope that in spite of the weather there was still a private chamber where he could rest and take tea, or possibly something stronger, while he waited for news.
Crossing into the dining parlor, Darcy scanned the tightly clustered tables. As if by instinct, his gaze shifted to the corner of the room and an odd buzzing filled his ears. Darcy blinked. Were his eyes deceiving him? Could merely thinking about Elizabeth Bennet have conjured her into existence? His gaze settled on the delicate curve of the woman’s neck and a bitter laugh rumbled in his throat. No. If he had such a power, surely Elizabeth would have been thrown into his path long before now.
The woman turned, and Darcy’s heart lurched inside his chest. He stepped forward, and before he could think better of it, her name was on his lips.
***
At the sound of her name, Elizabeth’s eyes lifted and the fine hairs on the back of her neck immediately stood on end. Merciful heavens! Mr. Darcy!
Staring back at her, Darcy momentarily froze before propriety propelled him forward to offer her a rigid bow. Elizabeth returned the greeting, her cheeks warming with a vivid blush.
Darcy looked away and Elizabeth suspected their thoughts were both on that long-ago April morning—the last occasion they had been in one another’s company. The day he had handed her a letter, his expression as dark and stormy as the windswept sky.
Elizabeth forced a shallow smile. She knew that one of them must speak, and if past interactions had taught her anything, the first overture would likely need to be hers.
“Mr. Darcy, this is an unexpected surprise. I had no notion you were in Kent. You are visiting your aunt, I imagine?” Even to her own ears, her voice sounded unnaturally bright.
Darcy frowned, answering in the affirmative. Several seconds passed before he seemed to realize something more might be required of him and he haltingly explained that an urgent matter at Rosings had necessitated the trip.
His voice trailed off and Elizabeth studied him from the corner of her vision. “I see,” she answered, wondering if the urgent matter had anything to do with the cousin he was expected to marry.
They stood in silence for some moments before Mr. Darcy cleared his throat.
“You are well, I hope?”
“I am, sir. And yourself?”
“Quite well. I thank you.” Darcy paused, tugging at his coat. “And your family? I hope they are all in good health? Your parents… and all your sisters?”
Elizabeth tilted her head. Despite the awkwardness of the situation, she could not prevent the half-smile that captured her lips. “Yes, they are all well.” She hesitated before saying, “Perhaps you have heard that my eldest sister is newly married?”
Elizabeth thought she saw him color, but when he spoke, his voice was unaffected.
“Yes, of course. Pray, allow me to offer my congratulations.”
She attempted to read his expression, but as was often the case, his face was an inscrutable mask. Elizabeth lifted her chin. “I thank you, sir. Jane and Mr. Bingley are very happy.”
“I am glad to hear it.”
Once again, conversation faltered and Darcy’s gaze drifted to the edges of the room. “Are you traveling to Hunsford?” he finally inquired.
“No, I am just returning. My cousin and Mrs. Collins have recently welcomed a baby boy. Lady Lucas was kind enough to allow me to accompany her on a brief visit.”
“Ah, I had not heard. I hope you will give Mr. and Mrs. Collins my best wishes.”
Elizabeth indicated that she would and the air around them grew still.
The scrape of cutlery mingled with the clatter of dishes at a nearby table. Somewhere across the room a glass shattered and the din was punctuated by a sudden burst of laughter.
Darcy shifted his weight. “Forgive me for taking up so much of your time, Miss Bennet. I am certain you are anxious to rejoin your companions. Would you allow me to escort you to them?”
Elizabeth’s stomach tightened, and she quickly looked away. “I thank you, no… That is, there is no one with me at present. Lady Lucas and Maria will remain at the parsonage for several more weeks. I chose to leave early so that I might spend some time in London with my relations.”
Darcy’s brows drew together. “You are alone? Are you traveling by post? I did not see a coach outside.”
“No. Mr. Collins was able to procure a carriage to deliver me to Bromley. My uncle was to have met me here, but I have just learned that he has been delayed due to the poor weather. He will not be able to send for me until tomorrow.”
Darcy’s frown deepened. “Is there not a maid or a footman accompanying you?”
“No, sir. Mrs. Collins sent one of her maids with me as far as the Bell, but she has departed with the carriage.” Elizabeth could see the tick of a muscle in Darcy’s jaw.
“Miss Bennet, surely you do not plan to stay here overnight, unchaperoned?”
She stared back at him, slowly raising one delicately arched brow. “It would appear, sir, that it is not a matter of choice.”
Turning away, Darcy expelled a breath. “That will not be necessary. I am returning to London and will escort you in my carriage. We will depart as soon as I am assured it is safe to travel.”
Elizabeth stiffened. “I thank you, Mr. Darcy but I am afraid I cannot accept your generous offer. My uncle has already made arrangements to collect me tomorrow afternoon.”
Darcy lifted his hand, raking his fingers through his hair before pacing several feet away. When he returned, Elizabeth noticed that his expression had softened. “I beg your pardon, Miss Bennet, but I cannot leave you in such difficult circumstances. If you will not accept for my sake, think of your family. Bingley would never forgive me if I did not offer you my protection.”
Elizabeth’s resolve wavered. As much as she resented being ordered about, she had to admit there was sense in his suggestion. And it did seem rather silly to refuse him out of spite. No doubt the journey would be uncomfortable, given their history, but if Mr. Darcy was prepared to treat her with civility, certainly she could manage to do the same. Still…
“Mr. Darcy, truly, that is not necessary,” she began, but the words were scarcely out of her mouth before the gentleman interrupted.
“Forgive me, Miss Bennet, I beg to differ. If you will not allow me to accompany you to Town, you leave me no choice but to remain here until your relations arrive tomorrow.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened. Would he really do such a thing? But she could already see by the firm set of his countenance that he most certainly would. His honor demanded it, and he would brook no argument.
Seeming to notice her hesitation, Darcy stepped back. “Pray, take a moment to consider. I am traveling alone, but I would be happy to engage a maid to act as chaperone. In any case, allow me to speak with my coachman.”
Before Elizabeth could respond, Darcy bowed, striding towards the door. Elizabeth followed at a gentler pace, trailing after him until she reached the vestibule. Shaking her head, Elizabeth turned away from the window. What curious twist of fate had placed them both here at the same moment, after so many months apart? And now it seemed she was destined to remain in Mr. Darcy’s company fo
r the foreseeable future. It was only up to her to determine whether it would be a few short hours in a carriage, or an entire night spent together in this inn.
Moving to a wooden bench tucked into a nearby alcove, Elizabeth sat. For seven months, she had anticipated this encounter with equal parts desire and dread. But now that the initial meeting was over, Elizabeth reflected that Mr. Darcy seemed, at least in essentials, much as he ever was: aloof, arrogant, overbearing. He had certainly been indignant when he learned that she was traveling unaccompanied. No doubt further evidence of her total want of propriety.
And yet he had been, if not kind, unquestionably polite—inquiring after her family, congratulating her on her sister’s marriage, extending his best wishes to Mr. and Mrs. Collins. And of course, offering his protection. Insisting upon it, despite everything she had done. How ironic that the man she had once accused of behaving in an ungentlemanlike manner turned out to hold a stronger code of honor than anyone she had ever known. Oh, how that comment must have rankled!
And she had noticed something else in his behavior today, a sort of quiet sadness, a strange sense of vulnerability. Or, perhaps it was remorse.
When the front door opened a short time later, Elizabeth’s mind was made up. Standing, she walked rapidly in his direction. “Mr. Darcy, I have decided to accept your offer of transport, if you are still agreeable?”
The gentleman rewarded her with a curt nod. “I am. And my coachman assures me the roads are passable. I shall speak to the proprietor about securing one of his maids.”
He turned to go, but Elizabeth reached out, catching his sleeve. “I thank you for your concern, sir, but there is no need.” Glancing around the bustling entryway she added, “I doubt a maid could be freed from her duties under the present conditions.”
Slowly, Darcy lowered his gaze, staring down at Elizabeth’s gloved hand, which still rested upon his arm.
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