To Conquer Pride

by Jennifer Altman

  Outside, a harsh wind whistled in the trees, but within the tiny cottage, there was only silence.

  ***

  Turning towards the hearth, Darcy focused his attention on the hiss and crackle of the fire. The throbbing in his leg was growing progressively worse, but he did not want to consume any more brandy. Being alone with Elizabeth was enough of a temptation without having his mind clouded by drink. His gaze wandered back to the place where she sat, bathed in the fire’s amber glow. He wondered what she was thinking. Despite her bravado, the situation they found themselves in had to be unsettling for her—stranded in a cottage in the middle of the woods with a man she vehemently disliked. Heaven knows, if anyone found out, her reputation would be ruined. Darcy sighed. Not that he would have any difficulty doing the honorable thing and marrying her, but for the first time since his failed proposal, the thought gave him little pleasure. As much as he wanted her, knowing he would be forcing Elizabeth into a union she found reprehensible would be his undoing.

  You could not have made me the offer of your hand in any possible way that would have tempted me to accept it. I had not known you a month before I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry…

  The soft timbre of Elizabeth’s voice drew him from his humiliating recollections and he pulled his gaze away from the flames.

  “I beg your pardon, Miss Bennet. I was not attending. What were you saying?”

  “I was just asking if you were too warm. Your face is flushed. Would you like to move farther from the fire?”

  Darcy could feel the color in his cheeks deepen. “No. I am well.”

  Elizabeth nodded and the conversation lapsed. But after several minutes, Darcy sat forward in his chair.

  “Miss Bennet, I realize the predicament in which we find ourselves must be distressing for you. I want to assure you that if it is within my power, no one will learn of this. Thomas will not speak of it, and with any luck we will be returned to the Bell first thing in the morning, with no one the wiser.”

  To Darcy’s surprise, Elizabeth appeared disconcerted by this shift in the conversation.

  “Thank you. I suppose I hadn’t really considered…” Addressing her comments to his last statement she continued, “I did not think it was in your nature to be deceptive, Mr. Darcy. Did you not tell me once that you loathed disguise of any sort?”

  Darcy looked away, squirming in his seat. Leave it to Elizabeth to remember every pompous statement he had ever uttered. Attempting to keep his voice even, he looked back at her, his expression earnest. “I did. But in this case, it cannot be helped. If anyone were to find out we spent the night here unchaperoned, your reputation would be beyond repair, and we would be compelled to marry. You do understand that?”

  Elizabeth’s eyes grew round and Darcy cleared his throat. When he continued, his voice had lost some of its edge. “Miss Bennet, as we are speaking of honesty, there is a matter that has been weighing on me. I feel I owe you an apology. For something I said to you, in the carriage.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. I am afraid I was not truthful with you about my reasons for missing your sister’s wedding. It was not business that kept me away.”

  Elizabeth studied him with an unreadable expression. “No, I did not think it was. But if there is an apology owing, it is to Mr. Bingley and my sister. I already knew you disapproved of the match, so it was no surprise to me that you chose not to attend.”

  “Is that what you think?”

  Elizabeth lifted her hand in a small wave. “Pray, do not trouble yourself about it now. I am only grateful you did not stand in the way of—”

  “Miss Bennet, again, you misunderstand. I did not keep my distance as a form of protest. I am very happy for Bingley and your sister. I was wrong about their affection for one another and I should not have interfered. I have told Bingley as much.”

  “But then, I do not understand…”

  Darcy clasped his hands, leaning forward so that his elbows rested upon his knees. “I stayed away because I did not wish to make you uncomfortable. After we parted in the spring, knowing your feelings…” Elizabeth flushed a soft pink and Darcy averted his gaze. “It is just that I understood the event would be a special celebration for your family. I did not want my presence to mar your enjoyment of the day.”

  “But Mr. Bingley asked you to stand up with him! I know he was disappointed when you declined.”

  Darcy shrugged. “Bingley is the forgiving sort. And I wrote to express my well wishes.”

  “Still, he wanted you there,” Elizabeth repeated. “You should not have stayed away because of me.”

  “Miss Bennet, I did not tell you this to make you uneasy. I merely wished for you to know that your happiness will always be of great importance to me. This will never change.”

  “I… Thank you,” she whispered.

  Darcy leaned his head against the worn upholstery. Briefly giving in to the pain, he allowed his eyes to slip closed for a moment.

  “Mr. Darcy, you must still be in a good deal of discomfort. Perhaps some brandy in a cup of tea?”

  Darcy opened his eyes. “No, I will save the brandy. But some tea would be welcome, if you will join me?”

  Elizabeth nodded. Making her way to the kitchen, she returned shortly with the teapot and another bundle of ice for Darcy’s leg. He watched as she poured out the tea, handing him his cup. Taking a small swallow, his mouth turned down at the corners.

  “Miss Bennet, what is in here?”

  Elizabeth tilted her head, regarding her own teacup. “It is willow-bark tea. I noticed it when I was going through the pantry earlier. My aunt used to make it when any of us were ill. It should help with the pain.” She took a sip, attempting to disguise her own displeasure. “I am sorry it does not taste better.”

  Darcy studied her over the rim of his cup. “No doubt you are missing the lemon,” he said, and Elizabeth gazed back at him with obvious surprise.

  “I recall that that was how you usually took your tea when we were at Netherfield.”

  Elizabeth continued to stare before saying, “You are correct, sir. I am inordinately fond of lemons. I used to eat them whole when I was a child, much to the amusement of the rest of my family. However, I now content myself with lemon flavored confections and the occasional slice in a cup of tea.”

  Darcy took another swallow of the herbal mixture, stifling a grimace. “You seem quite knowledgeable on the topic of medicine, Miss Bennet.”

  Elizabeth lifted one shoulder. “My aunt’s father was a physician. She picked up many useful remedies from him, which she has passed along to me. At Longbourn I am usually the one to assist when anyone is ill or injured. My mother is far too nervous and my father and youngest sisters have never taken an interest in such matters. Mary and Jane are some help, but I am afraid Jane gets faint at the sight of blood. So, you see, that leaves me. But I have always found it fascinating.”

  Darcy smiled. “Well, as the recipient of your expert care, you have my gratitude.”

  “And I am happy to be of service to you, sir,” Elizabeth replied.

  For some time after that, they sat gazing at the fire, each thinking their own thoughts. Darcy continued to sip his tea, slowly growing accustomed to the taste. Whether it was the herbal remedy or the brandy he had consumed earlier he could not say, but he found himself relaxing as the ache in his leg and ribcage gradually receded. As the quiet stretched on, Darcy remembered how Elizabeth had chastised him for his silence during their dance at the Netherfield ball. I should say something, he thought. Something to put her at ease.

  Casting about for a neutral topic, he roughly cleared his throat. “Miss Bennet, you spoke of your aunt. Do you refer to the relations you are now traveling to visit in Town?”

  Elizabeth looked up, clearly startled by this shift in the conversation. “Yes, sir. My uncle owns a business there. Jane and I have spent a considerable amount of time with them, ever since we
were quite small. Though I suppose that will change now that Jane is married.”

  “Oh? Only Mrs. Bingley and yourself?” Darcy inquired. “What of the rest of your sisters?”

  “No, only the two of us. It is rather a long story. I would not wish to bore you.”

  “Please. I would like to hear it.”

  Elizabeth studied him as if to judge the veracity of his words. “Very well.” Nesting comfortably into the corner of her chair, she continued, “I suppose it began when my sister Kitty was born. My mother’s confinement was a difficult one… To tell the truth, she was so ill the midwife insisted she have absolute peace and quiet. So, Jane and I were bundled off to stay with our Aunt and Uncle Gardiner in Town. Our younger sister Mary, who was still in the care of a nurse, was sent to our Aunt and Uncle Phillips, so that she might be closer to home. Kitty was delivered safely, but my mother took much longer to recover. Jane and I stayed in Town for the better part of a year, visiting home only briefly.

  “Of course, my parents were warned not to attempt another child, but Mamma was determined to deliver a boy, since Longbourn is entailed to Mr. Collins, as you know.” Darcy nodded and Elizabeth paused before saying, “By the time Jane and I were ready to return, our mother was increasing again and the situation was much the same. The nurse stayed on to care for Kitty and Mary, and Jane and I remained with the Gardiners who had become almost second parents to us by then. When Lydia was born, the midwife said it was a miracle Mamma survived.” Elizabeth took a sip of her tea. “There were no more children after that. Eventually, Jane and I returned home, but by then our family relationships had permanently shifted. I think that is why Jane and I have always been especially close, having at one time been one another’s sole companions. It is the same for Lydia and Kitty—Mamma has always doted on them as neither was expected to survive.” Elizabeth sighed. “I am afraid poor Mary has always been wedged in the middle. I fear it has been difficult for her.” Elizabeth finished her story, staring into the fire.

  Darcy followed her gaze. Well, that explained a vast deal. Suddenly, Mrs. Bennet’s nerves seemed more than justified. Of course, the woman’s manners still left much to be desired, but Darcy could not help but admire her determination—both to produce an heir and then, when that failed, to see her daughters well-settled and adequately cared for. Aloud he said, “I can see how that must have been difficult for you.”

  Elizabeth glanced up at the sound of his voice. “No, I am grateful for the time I have been able to spend with the Gardiners.” Tipping her chin up a notch she added, “They are wonderful people. Jane and I continued to visit them often, even once we had returned to Longbourn to live.”

  “You were traveling with your aunt and uncle earlier this summer, were you not?” Darcy asked. “I believe Bingley wrote about a trip to the Lakes?”

  To Darcy’s surprise, Elizabeth flushed.

  “I… yes… That is, we were to travel to the Lakes, but my uncle was detained on business, so we were not able to journey quite so far as we had originally planned.”

  “Oh?”

  Elizabeth’s finger traced a slow circle around the edge of her cup. “Yes. We only went as far as Derbyshire. My aunt wished to visit the town where she was raised.”

  Darcy’s eyes widened. “Your aunt hails from Derbyshire, Miss Bennet?”

  “Yes. From Lambton, sir,” Elizabeth answered, watching as the significance of this statement registered in his eyes.

  “But, that is only five miles from Pemberley!” Darcy could not believe what he was hearing. Had Elizabeth been in the nearest village when he had been holed up at Pemberley, despairing of never seeing her again?

  “Yes, I know. Although I believe you were from home at the time we visited. At least that is what the housekeeper indicated.”

  Darcy startled. “You visited Pemberley?” he asked, and Elizabeth nodded.

  “My aunt had toured the grounds several times as a girl, but had never been inside the house. She was eager to see it, and she thought I would enjoy the gardens there.”

  Darcy found himself leaning forward in his chair, the pain that had been practically unbearable a short time ago all but forgotten. “And did you?” he asked, hoarsely. “Enjoy the gardens, that is?”

  Once again, Elizabeth’s cheeks colored. “Yes, of course! But I think there are few who would not enjoy them. They are amongst the finest I have seen.”

  “And did you have the opportunity to tour the public rooms?” Darcy pressed, eager to hear everything. “I hope you found them to your satisfaction?”

  Elizabeth’s eyes brightened. “Oh, yes! The views from the music room were breathtaking. I am certain I would never get any practicing done if I had such a lovely prospect to distract me. And I especially enjoyed the portrait gallery.”

  At the mention of the gallery, Darcy recalled a conversation with his housekeeper shortly after his arrival at Pemberley the previous summer. Mrs. Reynolds had spoken of a small party that had toured the house the day before, mentioning that a young woman had claimed an acquaintance with him. At the time, Darcy had given the story little credence. He was used to unmarried ladies of the ton and their match-making mammas claiming a connection when no such relationship existed. But as he thought about it, he seemed to remember Mrs. Reynolds saying the young lady had taken a keen interest in the gallery, particularly in the portraits of Georgiana and himself.

  Darcy looked up in confusion, realizing Elizabeth had been speaking to him. “My apologies, Miss Bennet, what were you saying?”

  Elizabeth flushed. “Not at all, sir. I only wished to assure you that we never would have trespassed on your privacy had you been at home. I… I hope the idea of my visiting Pemberley does not distress you.”

  “On the contrary. You will always be welcome at Pemberley. My only regret is that I was not there to acquaint you with the estate myself. Perhaps another time…” his voice trailed off and Elizabeth looked away.

  “Thank you.”

  The two sat quietly for several moments gazing at each other in the fire’s golden glow.

  “Mr. Darcy, if you are not feeling too fatigued, perhaps you could tell me a little more about Pemberley?”

  “Certainly. What would you like to know?”

  Elizabeth indicated that she was happy to hear whatever he was willing to share, and Darcy thought seriously for several moments before speaking.

  “You mentioned your enjoyment of the gardens. Had I been present, there is one in particular I would have wished to show you. It is a walled garden some distance from the house, and one that is not open to the public. It is less formal than the gardens you toured, but we grow a wide variety of vegetation there. My mother had it designed when she first came to the estate as a young bride.” Darcy smiled. “She spent many happy hours within those walls. She used to call it her refuge.”

  “It sounds lovely,” Elizabeth murmured. After a moment she added, “You were close to your mother. I can tell.”

  Darcy nodded, his throat suddenly tight. “She was an extraordinary woman. Kind and generous. She adored art and music and nature in all its forms. She would take me on long walks when I was a boy. She taught me the names of all the plants and flowers. Though I learned the management of the estate from my father, I believe it is from my mother that I get my devotion to the land.” He paused before continuing softly, “I still miss her very much.”

  “I cannot imagine the heartache of losing a parent,” Elizabeth answered.

  Darcy gazed back at her, but his mind was far away. “For many years I could not stand to visit that garden. After my father’s death, I locked the gate. It was only this past summer that I began cultivating it again. I think it would make my mother happy to see it returned to its former glory.” Darcy did not add that it was Elizabeth’s refusal at Hunsford that had inspired him to revitalize his mother’s garden. It had given him a purpose, a distraction at a time when he most needed one, and oddly it had made him feel closer to the woman he lo
ved when he worked on it, alongside his gardeners. Somehow, he always pictured Elizabeth there, amongst the brightly colored blooms, her eyes sparkling with laughter. He turned his attention to the flesh and blood Elizabeth who smiled sleepily.

  “Tell me more. How long has the estate been in your family?”

  “Oh, many generations. My great, great, great grandfather purchased it on the occasion of his marriage. He came here from France…”

  Elizabeth eyelids drifted shut, but Darcy continued to speak in a low murmur. The soft hum of his voice mingled with the crackling of the fire, and a profound sense of tranquility settled over the small parlor—as if all was exactly as it should be.

  Chapter 5

  THE FIRE HAD long since burned down and the room was becoming cold. Darcy glanced over at Elizabeth, asleep in her chair. Several chestnut curls had escaped their pins and now rested against one rosy cheek. Even in repose, she was the most beautiful creature he had ever beheld. His eyes roamed her body, and warmth ignited in his chest. He would have liked to say that what he felt was a chaste sort of tenderness but strictly speaking, that would be untrue. He could not look at her—long lashes impossibly dark against her fair skin, the neckline of her gown slipping from one shoulder—and not feel a certain degree of carnal longing. But to his surprise, there was a stronger feeling holding the physical desire at bay. Watching Elizabeth, a fierce sense of protectiveness surged within him, and he knew in that moment that he would stop at nothing to keep her safe.

  He turned his attention to the mantelpiece. The pistol from the carriage still rested atop the roughhewn surface. He had attempted to press it upon his footman, but Thomas had refused the weapon. Now, Darcy was glad to have it. Elizabeth was under his care, and although he would gladly inflict bodily harm with his bare hands if it came to that, given his injuries, the pistol would make things easier.