Discovering Mr. Darcy: A Pride and Prejudice Novella (A Dash of Darcy)

by Leenie Brown

  Lady Catherine sighed. “True. At least, we know I was correct in my assessment of his attachment to the young lady. He is half in love with her already.”

  Richard laughed. “No, my dear aunt, you are incorrect. He is completely besotted. He even tried to tell me why I should not pursue her and in a very high and mighty fashion — condemning her connections and her family. The whole while he was rubbing his hands on his pants and tugging at his collar.” He leaned back in his chair. “Darcy has never been good at speaking ill of one he cares about.”

  “That is because he is a proper gentleman.” Lady Catherine’s chin rose as she said it. “My sister would not have raised him to be anything less.” Her eyes narrowed slightly as her lips curled in a teasing smile. “Unlike my brother.”

  Richard’s mouth dropped open. “I am capable of being a proper gentleman. I just choose not to be. It is so dull.”

  Lady Catherine chuckled. “That is precisely what my brother would tell our father.”

  Richard shrugged. There was no denying his father and he were alike both in looks and temperament. And as far as he was concerned, that was not an imperfection. Quite the contrary! His father was well-liked and successful and not solely because he was an earl but because he was an earl with an exceptional character and a pleasant personality.

  Lady Catherine looked at the clock. “Miss Bennet will be here in one hour to practice.”

  Richard gave a sharp nod of his head. “Darcy will be back in half an hour if he is holding to schedule, which I assume he is.”

  Lady Catherine rose from her seat. “Collins will be bringing me his sermon at two, and we will take tea together. Do not be late.”

  Richard smiled. This was a tea he would not miss for any inducement, for it promised to be a memorable affair.

  ~*~*~

  Elizabeth stopped at the gates to Rosings. She did not want to practice, and she most decidedly did not want to enter that house. She did not even wish to be on the grounds. It was all in too close a proximity to that man. She stood for three minutes complete, contemplating if refusing to do as Lady Catherine had directed was worth the long and nonsensical scolding she would receive from her cousin. Being barred from Rosings was not a threat but rather a consequence for which to wish. How was she to even look at Mr. Darcy with any sort of composure after hearing what she had heard? And to think she had been considering that he might not be as horrid as she had first deemed!

  She shook her head. Feigning civility even to the likes of Mr. Darcy was better than enduring a diatribe from her cousin, for she knew that it would not be one rebuke but an unending litany recited and expanded upon as each new day dawned. So, with an enormous sigh, she lifted her chin and march to her doom.

  “Good morning, Miss Elizabeth,” Richard greeted her as she came near the house.

  Elizabeth curtseyed and returned the greeting. “I am here to practice as I was instructed to do.”

  There was something not entirely pleasant about Miss Elizabeth this morning. Her eyes were dull, and her smile had no spark. “My aunt can be demanding.” He tilted his head and studied her expression. “You are not unwell, are you?”

  “A slight headache,” Elizabeth admitted. “However, it is not enough to render me unable to please my cousin’s patroness.” She had attempted to use her headache as a reason to avoid Rosings, but Mr. Collins would not hear of it. According to him, a bit of music would likely cure all her ills if the glorious walk to Rosings, knowing the favour of one so great as Lady Catherine had been bestowed upon her, did not do so first. She smiled sheepishly. “My cousin can also be demanding.”

  Richard chuckled and accepted the explanation but felt that more was amiss. However, there was no way to inquire further without being thought meddlesome. He extended an arm to her. “Allow me to escort you to your instrument.”

  Elizabeth could not help smiling at the flourish of his free hand as he waved it toward the house. Why could his cousin not be so amiable? It was as if the two were opposites sides of the same coin — one dour and grave and the other affable and bright.

  “I must admit that I am selfish enough to be grateful for my aunt’s insistence that you play. There are far too many stays here that are dull. A new friend and music do lend a certain delight to this visit.” He led her up the grand staircase and toward the family wing. “It is only when Mrs. Jenkinson is required to play, or Georgiana is with us, that there is anything as pleasant as music about the house.”

  “No one else plays?”

  Richard shook his head. “Anne’s skill at the piano was passed on to her by her mother,” he leaned closer and whispered, “No matter how much Aunt Catherine insists she would have been a proficient had she practiced, it was not meant to be — or so my father says. But, you mustn’t tell her I said so, for I will deny it if you do.”

  He turned as his batman, Mr. Stone, approached. “Did you find the missing item?” he inquired but then, held up a hand to prevent the man from answering. He needed Elizabeth only to hear a reason for his leaving her to find the piano on her own. He did not need her to hear any of the discussion about the item that was missing because it had been taken at his request.

  He turned to Elizabeth. “I must apologize. There is a matter that requires my attention. Three doors up on the left is where you will find what you need.”

  “Oh, of course,” Elizabeth replied.

  Richard turned toward Mr. Stone but not so far as to not be able to see Miss Elizabeth’s progress. “You have the keys?”

  Mr. Stone handed two keys to Richard.

  “And the bell?”

  “Disconnected,” said Mr. Stone.

  “From all three rooms,” Richard began moving down the hall as Elizabeth reached the door he had directed her toward.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And Darcy’s man?”

  “Resting uneasily below stairs but unwilling to cross Lady Catherine.”

  “He knows the purpose, does he not?” Richard stopped and waited until Elizabeth had entered the room he had told her contained the piano and then hurried toward the door and carefully locked it almost as soon as it closed.

  “He does,” whispered Mr. Stone, “but he fears he will lose his spot. I assured him that you and Lady Catherine would not allow it, yet he is nervous.”

  Richard pulled his man down the hall toward the servant’s stairs. “No one is to open that door or the two next to it.”

  “The instructions have been given,” Mr. Stone assured him. “No one is to come to this floor until you have given the go ahead.”

  “Very good.” Richard turned and looked back toward the door he had just locked. The handle was jiggling, and there was a soft knocking. Oh, Darcy and Miss Elizabeth would be angry. He blew out a breath. “I do hope they are in a forgiving mood once they are released.”

  Mr. Stone chuckled. “I would have thought you would have considered that before undertaking this scheme.”

  “You can be replaced,” Richard growled.

  Mr. Stone shook his head. “No, I cannot. Your father has promised my father that I will be your man for the duration of our stay in his majesty’s forces.” He grinned at Richard’s sly smile. “However, I realize that you could make my stay unbearable, so I will wish you well in this endeavour. I await your command.” He saluted smartly and, pivoting on his heel, left Richard to watch the hall on his own.

  Richard pulled a sofa that stood near the servant’s stairs directly in front of the door to the stairs and took a seat. It would be a long watch, but he must be certain that no one interfered with the plans that had been set in motion.

  “They are captured?” Anne asked quietly, poking her head out of her room just down the hall.

  He waved for her to join him. “They are. There has been rattling of the door and a few knocks, but nothing further.”

  “Darcy has not bellowed?”

  Richard chuckled. “Not yet, and I am fairly certain it will be a while before he do
es since he is likely improperly dressed.”

  Anne’s eyes sparkled. “Do tell.”

  Richard leaned back and patted the seat next to him.

  Chapter 6

  Elizabeth closed the door to the room. It was nicely furnished with a couch and chair in front of the fireplace and a lovely writing desk under the window. However, this was as much as she could see from the entry way since an armoire blocked her view of the rest of the room. The piano must be on the other side of that armoire.

  She stepped around the piece of furniture and stopped. There was no piano. There was instead, a very large bed with a trunk at its foot and a set of clothes laid out on the mattress — a set of men’s clothes. And boots. There were boots standing next to a chair beside the bed.

  With her hand resting on her racing heart, Elizabeth turned back to the door. She had counted three doors up on the left. She was certain of it. She tried the handle on the door, but it would not turn. She pulled harder and then knocked softly as panic began to demand larger breaths to keep her head from spinning.

  “Richard, is that you?”

  Elizabeth’s heart lurched. No, no, no. This could not be his room. It could not be!

  “Richard?” Darcy called as he entered his room, rubbing his head with a towel.

  Elizabeth dropped her gaze to the ground. Mr. Darcy was dressed only in a robe, and she was standing in his room. Oh, how she wished the floor would open up and drop her to her death. That would be far less painful than forcing a “No, it is not Richard” from her lips. However, the floor did not open, and her teeth, tongue, and lips managed to produce the sounds needed to alert him to her presence. She covered her face with her hands.

  “The door is locked. I cannot leave,” she added to her admission that she was not Richard.

  “Miss Elizabeth?”

  “I am afraid that is my name,” she replied, turning away from him. “Colonel Fitzwilliam told me that this was the room where I could find the piano. Your aunt insists that I practice, and my cousin would not allow me to remain at home, even if my head did hurt.”

  Darcy tied the rope around his waist more snuggly.

  “I was in the hall, and a man came up to Colonel Fitzwilliam, and there was something that was lost, and he told me to go three doors up on the left, so I did, and then I entered and rounded the wardrobe,” she waved her hand behind her at the large piece of furniture as she babbled, “and there was no piano. I tried to leave, but the door will not open.”

  He pushed by her and tried the handle for himself. It was indeed locked. “You do not have the key?”

  “Why should I have the key?” she retorted, looking at him with wide eyes. “It is not my room.”

  Darcy raised a brow. “You would not be the first lady to attempt to snare a gentleman in such a fashion.” He clamped his lips closed and moved passed her again to go look for the key. He should not have said that. She was not the sort to affect a compromise — at least not with him. Besides, if she were to attempt to snare anyone in this house, it would be Richard. Darcy pulled out drawers and searched for the key. Not finding it anywhere in his dresser, he got down on his knees and felt under the bed.

  “You think I would try to trap you?” Elizabeth had finally found her voice after such a startling accusation. “If it were my intent to do so, I would have done it while at Netherfield, but why should I want to be tied to you?” She folded her arms and glared at him. Her anger overcoming her embarrassment at seeing him dressed as he was with his bare feet and calves poking out from under his robe as knelt on the floor. “I should hope to marry a man with some sensibility, or at least, one who knows how to smile.”

  “Thank you for clarifying your opinion of me.” He rose from the floor and rounding the bed to the far side of the room opened a door. “You will find a piano in here. There is a sitting room between my room and the room my sister uses when she is here.” He stepped back and waited for Elizabeth to cross the room and go through the door. Then, he closed it and leaned against it. He was correct in one thing, she disliked him. He pushed off the door and gathered up his clothes, taking them to the dressing room to attempt to make himself somewhat presentable.

  Elizabeth stood just inside the sitting room. Her anger fading and a strange sadness filling her heart. Mr. Darcy had not raised his voice in return to her harsh words. He had merely replied softly as if what she had said had cut him to the core. She would have preferred him to bluster about. She bit her lip and looked back at the door to his room and then crossed to the instrument.

  A small pile of music lay neatly on the side, and one piece was spread out as if waiting for her to attempt it. Her eyes ran over the notes as they rose and fell on the staff. It was not a simple piece, but it was not completely beyond her skills. She began by picking out the notes on the upper staff with her right hand. Then, reaching the end of the piece, she did the same with her left hand before attempting to combine the two.

  Darcy heard her slowly picking out the tune of a familiar song as he dressed. It reminded him of hearing Georgiana approach a new composition. How he loved to watch her tip her head and bite her lip as she concentrated on learning the fingering and committing the melody to memory. He wondered if Elizabeth did the same. He pulled on one stocking and then another. His boots he would do without, just as he would do without his jacket and cravat. He pulled a pocket knife out of his dresser and attempted to force the lock open on his door, but it was of no use. He returned the knife to its drawer and sank into a chair by the fireplace. He would read until she left, then he would ring for his man and make himself presentable in time for tea.

  For twenty minutes Darcy stared at a book and thought about the lady in the other room. For the same twenty minutes, Elizabeth attempted to apply herself to her music but found her mind wandering to the gentleman beyond the door. He was insufferable, she reminded herself. Handsome and wealthy, but insufferable. Finally, she rose from the instrument.

  She had practised as required. Neither Lady Catherine nor Mr. Collins had indicated how long she had to play. She pulled on the door to the room, but it did not budge. She pulled harder but without success.

  There was yet another door she could try — the one in Miss Darcy’s bedroom. She hurried through the door that adjoined the sitting room and tried Miss Darcy’s door. It, like all the others, would not budge. With a resigned sigh, she returned to the piano and sat on the bench but did not touch the keys. She was trapped — well and truly trapped. There was no way to leave these rooms without someone coming to let her out.

  In the other room, Darcy snapped his book closed. He had not heard a door open or close, but she was not playing, so she must have left. He pulled his bell and then went to the sitting room door and peeked in. Elizabeth sat at the instrument, her hands covering her face, and her shoulders rising and falling as she cried. No matter what she had said to him. No matter what she thought of him, he could not allow her to go uncomforted.

  “Miss Elizabeth,” he said softly as he approached her, “are you well?” It was a silly thing to say when a lady was weeping, but what else could he ask?

  She rubbed the tears from her cheeks with her hands and shrugged. “They are all locked.”

  He handed her a handkerchief and took the chair next to the piano where he always sat to turn pages for his sister. “What are all locked?”

  “The doors.” Her reply was somewhat muffled by the cloth she was using to dry her face.

  “This door?” he asked.

  She nodded. “And the one in Miss Darcy’s room. We are trapped.”

  The oddness of the situation settled uneasily around Darcy. Three doors locked, and no keys to open them? He knew that the keys for this room and Georgiana’s were kept by the housekeeper and Lady Catherine unless Georgiana was in residence. The fact that the door to this room had not been left unlocked if it was intended to be the room where Elizabeth practiced did not make sense.

  “I have rung for my man,” he said. �
��When he comes, you will be able to escape.”

  “From your room?” She blew her nose softly.

  “Yes.”

  “And if someone sees me exiting your room? What then?”

  He sighed. “That would be up to you.” He would marry her, but only if she wished it. He would not force her. The situation might be able to be covered.

  “Me?”

  He nodded.

  “There would be no option. We would have to marry.” The thought did not terrify her as much as she had expected. Mr. Darcy was a sullen, arrogant man, but surely, he would be kind to his wife.

  “Only if you wished it. I would not force my disagreeable self on you.” There was a touch of bitterness in his tone.

  “You would leave me a ruined woman?”

  He shook his head. “No, I would never do anything to harm you. I would see that the story was not spread, and you would be free to choose whomever you wished.”

  She tipped her head and looked at him. “Truly?”

  His smile was quick and sad. “Though it would break my heart, yes.” He rose and paced to the window. “Richard has a small inheritance and a pension.”

  She stared after him. Did he mean that he wished to marry her? That was not possible. “My connections are unsuitable,” she said, “and my family ridiculous.” She wiped at her eyes again. His second comment finally took root in her thinking. “Colonel Fitzwilliam?”

  He glanced over his shoulder towards her. “If you are considering him, you should know his circumstances.”

  Her eyes grew wide. “I am certain he would prefer an heiress! I am of little standing — far too poor for the likes of him or you.” She laughed bitterly. “Perhaps I should have accepted Mr. Collins when he offered.”