To Conquer Pride

by Jennifer Altman

  Darcy nodded, confirming the truth of the matter, and conversation veered to alternative plans for the day. Mrs. Gardiner stated her intention to call upon one of her acquaintances who lived in the area. Mary voiced her willingness to go along, and Elizabeth was then applied to for her approbation.

  “I should love to make Mrs. Driscoll’s acquaintance, Aunt, but I had hoped to explore Mr. Darcy’s library today. Would you mind very much if I stayed behind?”

  Darcy’s breath hitched at Elizabeth’s words but he forced himself to focus his attention on his plate. Did it signify that she wished to remain here at Pemberley rather than joining her aunt and sister?

  “No, of course not,” Mrs. Gardiner answered. Addressing her husband, Elizabeth’s aunt added, “And what about you, Edward? Will you accompany us?”

  Mr. Gardiner chuckled. “A morning spent discussing fashion and the like? I think not. I would much rather stay here and put Mr. Darcy’s billiards room to good use. That is, if you have no objection, sir?”

  Darcy immediately shook his head. “I hope you will use any part of the house you wish,” he answered, but he could not help but wonder if the gentleman’s desire to remain at Pemberley was for the sake of billiards or keeping an eye on his niece. Once again, Darcy found his gaze wandering to the opposite end of the table. Elizabeth had finished her pastry and was now returning to the sideboard for an additional helping of fruit.

  “I see you are enjoying the berries, Miss Bennet,” he said, attempting to keep his tone light.

  “Indeed, I am, sir. Do you cultivate them here in your gardens?”

  Darcy responded with a shake of his head. “In the gardens, no. They grow wild along the edge of the property. By August there is such a large quantity, we cannot collect them fast enough. But even now, there is quite a surfeit. I think we still have enough for our cook to make a pie or two.” Darcy was gratified to see a slow smile animate Elizabeth’s features. “If you would like, Miss Bennet, perhaps we can go picking when the weather clears?”

  Elizabeth stared vaguely across the room, worrying the small garnet cross that hung about her neck, before turning to face him with a sparkle in her eyes. “What? Oh, yes, indeed, Mr. Darcy, I would quite enjoy that.”

  ***

  As it was still too early for social calls, Darcy offered to show his guests through the house, a suggestion that was eagerly agreed to by all. And although Elizabeth and the Gardiners had toured the public rooms already, he made a point of taking them to many private areas of the home as well, regaling them with anecdotes from his childhood and recounting stories he had been told by his parents. Even Georgiana seemed to be back in her usual good spirits and joined in with her own reminiscences. Finally, the party reached the front hall, and Darcy led the way to an ornately carved door, stepping back with a flourish to allow Elizabeth to enter. The lady crossed the threshold and stopped. A sharp gasp drew from her lips, and Darcy smiled, following with the rest of the group.

  In size, the library was one of the largest rooms in the house—almost half again as big as Pemberley’s grand ballroom—and except for the tall windows and the space where the two fireplaces stood, bookshelves lined every wall from ceiling to floor. In the center of the space, the comfortable furniture was arranged in intimate groupings, creating numerous places to curl up and read. But it was the books that formed a muted tapestry of burgundies and browns, forest greens and midnight blues that seemed to draw Elizabeth’s attention to the room’s perimeter. Approaching the nearest shelf, she reached out her hand, running her fingers reverently along the gilded spines.

  After a few moments Darcy followed, coming to a stop just behind her shoulder. “Is anything the matter, Miss Bennet? You are unusually quiet.”

  Elizabeth turned, delight dancing in her hazel eyes. “I… no… That is, I knew your library would be impressive, but I never imagined anything like this. Goodness, I may never leave!”

  Georgiana who had been standing a few steps away thanked Elizabeth for her compliment, but Darcy could feel the blood rushing to his head. If only that were true! He would gladly expand the library to fill the entire west wing if that would be enough to keep Elizabeth here indefinitely.

  Clearing his throat, Darcy leaned down, speaking directly into Elizabeth’s ear. “I am glad you approve, Miss Bennet. I know how much you love books, so coming from you I take that as the highest compliment.”

  Elizabeth turned to look at him. “Good. It was intended as such.”

  Darcy’s pulse quickened and his gaze remained fixed on Elizabeth’s elegant profile as she pulled a book at random from the stacks. He watched as she caressed the leather bindings, and his entire body burned with longing.

  Oh, to have her touch him like that! To feel the softness of her skin while he breathed in her sweet scent. If only he could declare himself then and there! He would do anything; beg her on bended knee to be his, now and forever…

  He stepped closer and his hands reached out of their own accord.

  The sound of a throat being cleared somewhere nearby arrested Darcy’s steps and he pivoted in the opposite direction. His butler stood in the center of the room.

  “I beg your pardon, sir, but a letter has just been delivered. It is addressed to the Miss Bennets. I thought you would wish to be informed straightaway.”

  Darcy instantly stepped forward, as heat rushed to his cheeks. Dear God, he had almost touched her! Right here in the presence of her relations and his own sister! Never had he been so grateful for the prompt delivery of the morning post.

  “Yes, thank you, Hastings,” he mumbled, taking the missive and briefly glancing down at the flowery hand before extending it in Elizabeth’s direction. “For you, Miss Bennet.”

  Turning away from the bookshelves, Elizabeth took the letter.

  Watching her face, Darcy felt the first stirrings of apprehension. “I hope it is not bad news?” he asked as Elizabeth’s fingers worked to loosen the seal.

  “No… I am certain there is no cause for alarm. But the letter appears to be from my sister Lydia, who I am afraid is not prone to writing unless she has something of a dramatic nature to report.”

  Hearing her words, Mary and the Gardiners joined the pair as Elizabeth unfolded the single sheet of thick velum.

  To give the family some privacy Darcy stood slightly apart from the group, but looked on with concern as Georgiana settled in another corner of the room and pretended interest in a book that had been lying on a nearby table.

  As she read, Elizabeth’s frown deepened, and it wasn’t long before Mrs. Gardiner asked anxiously about the news.

  “Forgive me. No one is ill, though the letter is indeed from Lydia. She writes to inform us that her husband has purchased a captaincy in the regulars and they will be relocating to Newcastle within a fortnight.”

  Mary and the Gardiners expressed their surprise as Darcy rubbed the back of his neck, the first stirrings of self-reproach rippling up his spine. “Are those not happy tidings, Miss Bennet?” he asked cautiously.

  Elizabeth turned to look at him. “Yes…,” she answered slowly, folding the letter and passing it to Mary.

  Mr. Gardiner shook his head. “I have no doubt my sister is heartsick.”

  Contrition twisted Darcy’s stomach. “Yes, I had not thought… That is, I suppose it will be difficult for your family, having your sister settled so far from Longbourn.”

  Elizabeth fixed her attention on her host, and to Darcy’s vast relief, one side of her mouth tipped into a grin. “Oh, no, it is not that. I love my sister, Mr. Darcy, but I have long thought that we could all benefit from a bit of separation from Lydia’s… exuberance.”

  Darcy was about to answer when Mary Bennet let out a most unladylike snort and all eyes turned to her.

  “Lizzy, did you take note of this?” Mary inquired, and in a most derisive tone she read aloud: “‘I shall endeavor to write, but you know married women have never much time for writing. My unmarried sisters may write t
o me, as you will have nothing else to do.’”

  Mr. Gardiner barked out a laugh while his wife merely rolled her eyes. The party discussed the letter for several more minutes before the clock struck the hour and Mrs. Gardiner and Mary began preparing for their morning call.

  Darcy rang for the carriage and requested a footman to attend the ladies, while Mr. Gardiner again stated his intention to make use of Mr. Darcy’s billiards room. An additional footman was called to escort him thither, leaving Darcy, Georgiana, and Elizabeth as the only occupants left in the library. As his sister remained settled with her book, Darcy approached Elizabeth, taking a seat across from her as propriety dictated.

  “I beg your pardon, Miss Bennet. I know it is none of my concern, but you did not look entirely pleased when you read your sister’s letter. I hope the Hughes’ removal from the neighborhood has not caused you any distress?”

  To Darcy’s relief, Elizabeth shook her head. “No. Truly I am happy for them. It is only… I cannot help wondering where the lieutenant came upon the funds to purchase such a commission.” Seeming to realize she had spoken far too plainly, Elizabeth flushed. “Forgive me, sir. I realize that was a highly improper thing for me to say.”

  Darcy frowned, but when he leaned forward, his voice gentled. “Miss Bennet, I hope you will consider me a friend, and as such you are most welcome to discuss anything you wish. Nothing you divulge will leave these four walls.” Glancing over at his sister who remained engrossed in her book, Darcy continued, “I am certain there are any number of explanations. Perhaps the lieutenant was given the money by some relation… Or mayhap he won it at cards or the like. I believe gambling is quite prevalent amongst those members of the militia.”

  But Elizabeth was already shaking her head. “Not such a large sum of money. And I do not believe there are any close relations who would be in a position to help him in such a way—at least not on his side.”

  Darcy rubbed at his forehead, causing Elizabeth to sigh.

  “Forgive me again for unburdening myself to you, Mr. Darcy, I know I should not.”

  Darcy looked away. The last thing he wanted was for Elizabeth to worry that someone in her family had unnecessarily depleted their resources. “Are you concerned that your father has purchased the commission?” he asked gently.

  To his surprise, Elizabeth widened her eyes, and a laugh slipped from her throat. “Papa? Oh, no! Certainly, it was not him. I believe it must have been Mr. Bingley who supplied the funds. I am afraid there is no other explanation.”

  Darcy startled. “Bingley? What makes you think so?”

  Elizabeth met his gaze before glancing away. “Of course, I cannot know for sure. It is just that Mr. Bingley has come to the aid of our family in the past, and while we have all been exceedingly grateful, in this case such a gesture was entirely unnecessary.”

  Darcy’s forehead wrinkled. What on earth could Bingley have done to help the Bennets? Unless perhaps Elizabeth referred to his friend’s willingness to marry Jane Bennet without the benefit of a dowry… Still, it made sense that Elizabeth should suspect her brother-in-law. He was the most likely candidate, and knowing Bingley’s generous nature, Darcy felt certain his friend would have purchased the commission if the thought had occurred to him.

  Shifting his weight, Darcy carefully chose his words. “Whoever it was, I am certain they would not wish for you or your family to feel beholden to them, Miss Bennet. I have little doubt this individual had ample funds to make the purchase. Pray, do not trouble yourself about it.”

  “I suppose you are correct,” she answered. “I hope you will not say anything to Mr. Bingley. I do not think he would wish for me to know.”

  Darcy released a breath, squirming uncomfortably in his chair. “Of course.”

  A knock sounded on the open door and Darcy and Elizabeth both turned to face the footman who had come to convey Mr. Gardiner’s invitation for Darcy to join him in the billiards room. A request that under the circumstances, Darcy was all too happy to oblige.

  ***

  Darcy did not know how long he had been sitting at his desk, his attention fixed upon the worn volume that had become one of his most cherished possessions.

  After engaging in several rounds of billiards with Mr. Gardiner—who to Darcy’s surprise turned out to be quite an accomplished player—that gentleman had expressed a desire to rest, and Darcy had returned to his study. But it was not long before his correspondence was put aside, and his hands were reaching for the book he kept hidden within his desk.

  Sitting forward in his chair, he brushed his fingers over the cracked leather bindings and his heart pounded inside his chest. He ruffled the pages and several sheets came loose from the broken spine. Darcy peered at the smudged print before lifting one of the pages. Probably it was only his imagination, but he thought he could detect Elizabeth’s fragrance within the fabric of the paper.

  Setting the page aside, Darcy released a breath. It was wrong of him to have kept her book. He hadn’t intended to. When he had come up with the notion of replacing the volume—an idea that had so consumed him he had traveled to three separate booksellers to find just the edition he wished to give her—his plan had been to return the damaged copy along with his purchase. Although no longer legible in places, he knew the book belonged to her father and possibly had sentimental value. But when it came time to wrap the parcel, he found he could not part with it. Somehow, the worn volume had become a sort of talisman, his one last connection to the woman he loved. And despite the impropriety of his behavior, he was exceedingly glad to have it.

  The sudden echo of footsteps in the outer hall snapped Darcy from his musings and he hastily buried the book beneath a stack of correspondence. Scooping up the loose pages, he folded them into a neat square, slipping them into the pocket of his coat as a soft knock sounded at the door.

  “Enter,” he called, and seconds later his sister’s face appeared around the doorjamb, causing him to smile. “Georgie! Pray, come in.” He pushed back his chair, motioning her forward.

  His sister came to stand before his desk and Darcy noticed with relief that she looked less fatigued than he had seen her in some time, but her expression was serious.

  “Fitzwilliam, I have been sent to fetch you. There is an urgent matter in the kitchens that requires your attention. You must come at once.”

  Darcy pulled his gaze away from Georgiana’s flushed countenance and his forehead wrinkled. The kitchens? That area of the house was strictly his housekeeper’s domain. As a matter of fact, Darcy could not remember ever being summoned below stairs for a consultation, in all his time as master. “Is it not something Mrs. Reynolds can handle?” he asked.

  Georgiana immediately shook her head. “No. I am afraid not.”

  “Well, whatever it is, I am happy to discuss it, but I do not believe Mrs. West would welcome my presence in her kitchens. I shall send for her to attend me here.”

  Darcy moved in the direction of the bell-pull, but to his surprise, Georgiana reached across the desk, staying his hand. “No, William, it cannot be discussed here. And it cannot wait. You must hurry.”

  Still confused, but seeing his sister’s resolve, he allowed himself to be propelled out of the room and along the corridor to the back stairs. Following his sister’s steps, it occurred to him that he had not been in this part of the house in… actually he could not remember the last time he had been in this part of the house. Certainly, it had been years.

  Feeling like an interloper, Darcy tentatively entered the kitchens on Georgiana’s heels—and froze.

  The large room was empty save three people, but Darcy only had eyes for the one who stood directly before him, a crisp white apron covering her sprigged-muslin gown.

  “Miss Bennet!” He looked around in confusion. “I hope you have not lost your way?”

  A smile brightened Elizabeth’s features and her eyes sparkled with barely suppressed mirth. Behind him, Darcy could hear his sister’s throaty giggle.r />
  “No, Mr. Darcy. I have not. But pray, do come in. We only have the use of the kitchens for a scant two hours before your staff must return to begin preparing for the evening meal, so there is little time to dawdle.”

  Darcy stepped farther into the room, his questioning eyes darting to Mrs. Reynolds, who stood slightly to one side, but she only smiled and walked over to take a seat on one of the chairs that surrounded a long wooden table at the back of the room.

  “Miss Bennet, I am afraid you find me at a loss. Might I ask you to enlighten me as to the purpose of this meeting?”

  “Certainly, sir. I am going to instruct you on the proper preparation of a pie. Blackberry, to be exact,” she added, reaching for the basket of berries sitting on the nearby sideboard.

  Darcy’s eyebrows lifted and Elizabeth’s smile broadened.

  “I see,” he answered, causing Elizabeth to laugh with the exuberance of a girl half her age.

  “I must confess that at first I had trouble devising a task upon which I could educate you, Mr. Darcy. However, I then remembered that you are not so practiced in the kitchen.” Her expression turned serious before she continued, “And I did promise most faithfully to bake for you one day. Do you not remember?”

  Darcy swallowed, tugging at his neck-cloth which suddenly seemed far too tight. The memory of their time in the cottage’s small kitchen played out in his mind’s eye and he kept his gaze locked on hers when he answered. “Yes, Miss Bennet, I remember.”

  They stood looking at each other for a long moment before Elizabeth stepped away, pulling an apron from one of the pegs along the wall. When she spoke again, her voice was light. “I suggest you remove your coat, sir. I would not wish to get into trouble with your valet.”

  Darcy blinked back at her, struggling to process the shift in the conversation. “You want me to… That is, I assumed this would be a demonstration of some sort…” he stammered, but at the look on Elizabeth’s face he reached out his hand, his fingers closing around the rough cloth.