The Darcy Marriage Series

by Zoë Burton

  “Who is it from?” Lady Catherine’s only child, Anne, was curious. They received few letters in any case, but she could not remember the last time one came via an express carrier.

  “Mr. Collins. I cannot imagine what he could have to say to me that was so important.” Breaking open the seal, Lady Catherine started reading. She gasped before she got very far down the page, then began to read more quickly. Reaching the bottom, her eyes moved back to the top, and she read again.

  “What is it, Mama?”

  “My rector informs me that he met Darcy in Hertfordshire, and that he is married!”

  “What? That is not possible. He is engaged to me!” Anne did not know which to express first, her shock or her outrage.

  “Blast it all! I knew I should have pushed for a formal arrangement!” Lady Catherine lowered the hand holding the letter to her lap, turning toward her daughter. “I am so sorry, Anne; I never thought he would defy my wishes, so I did not insist on it.”

  “Well,” Anne snapped, “now you can fix it!”

  “There is nothing that can be done. Unless either Darcy or this young woman was incompetent, or underage and without a parent’s permission, there are no grounds for an annulment. As far as a divorce, those are expensive and difficult to get. It would damage the entire family, even if it did not take years to achieve.”

  “That means nothing to me. You promised Darcy to me, Mother, and I intend to have him. You had best think of something, and do it quickly. You are the daughter and sister of an earl and the widow of a baronet. You have run this estate single-handedly for a decade. You have a reputation for getting what you want.” Anne stood, hands fisted at her sides. “I do not know how you are going to get him back for me, but be assured, you will. I will see to it.”

  Lady Catherine sat silently as her only child marched from the room, trailed by her companion, Mrs. Jenkinson. Though she herself was known for her ability to intimidate and order the lives of others, Lady Catherine quivered inside at what Anne might do. Though appearing to others as weak and sickly, when the two of them were without guests, Anne was a force to be reckoned with.

  As a child, Lady Catherine’s daughter had indeed been sickly. She had caught a fever at the age of ten that had left her with a weakened constitution and prone to other illnesses. Her parents had worried about every sniffle, fearing that one would take her life. Lady Catherine and Sir Lewis had coddled Anne, spoiling her and doing everything they could to make her happy.

  As she grew, Anne’s personality began to increasingly demonstrate her Fitzwilliam roots. Lady Catherine’s family members, as peers of the realm, were an exceedingly proud and demanding lot. Their expectations of what was their due were high. Anne displayed these same characteristics; added to them, however, was a tendency toward maliciousness. When she did not get her way, the girl became violently angry, often throwing figurines or striking anyone unlucky enough to be near. She used words as weapons, as well.

  Her father had been the only person able to control her—for some reason she obeyed him but no one else—but he had passed away when Anne was fifteen. She had become increasingly difficult in the intervening ten years. On several occasions, people had been injured, either directly or indirectly, during Anne’s episodes of anger, including Lady Catherine herself. Everyone in the Rosings household feared another outburst, most especially the mistress.

  Lady Catherine had wondered in the past if she should seek medical assistance for Anne. Her greatest fear, however, was that Anne would be taken from her and shut away in an asylum. There was nothing wrong with the girl other than being spoiled and used to getting her way. Catherine knew that no one would believe that she, who was noted for her strong personality and desire to control those around her, was afraid of her own child. Instead of asking for help from her brother or another family member, she allowed Anne to continue to get what she wanted, hoping that it would prevent an outburst. Lady Catherine had convinced herself that it was working.

  Now she must think of a plan to separate Darcy from his new wife. She was not at all convinced it was possible. Though she had told Anne that an annulment was impossible, she was unclear on the workings of the law; she had heard of marriages being annulled. Even if that was not possible, divorce was, though as she had said to Anne, it was expensive and very difficult to obtain, if Darcy or his wife were even willing to attempt one in the first place. She could try to frighten this young woman away…and offer to pay her to leave, or even to give her funds to set herself up with a different name, either in Scotland or the former colonies. The girl’s death could be falsified, leaving Darcy free; Lady Catherine would then convince him to marry Anne. Offering her money was probably going to be the easiest, in Lady Catherine’s opinion. A young woman raised in the wilds of Hertfordshire could almost certainly be swayed by money. Finally choosing that option, the mistress of Rosings retired to her chambers to plot the fine details and write ahead to the inns she would use as she travelled.

  After leaving her mother sitting in the drawing room, staring after her, Anne de Bourgh climbed the staircase to return to her rooms, her faithful companion following in her footsteps. Anne was deep in thought and full of rage, and had nothing to say to Mrs. Jenkinson other than a command to leave her once they arrived at Anne’s rooms.

  Anne paced up and down the length of her spacious chamber as she considered the situation with her cousin. She was furious with him, with this female he married, and most of all, with her mother, who, in Anne’s opinion, should have insisted Darcy propose long ago. Silent curses rolled through her mind. She had demanded action from Lady Catherine but was uncertain her mother could manage to resolve the issue on her own. A thought came to her and, stopping mid-pace, she whirled around and strode to her desk. Pulling writing materials out, she swiftly composed a letter, then sanded, folded, and sealed it. She rose once more to cross the room and enter her dressing room, handing the note to her maid with clear and specific instructions as to its delivery. Then, she strolled to the fireplace and seated herself in the chair beside it. A smirk formed on her lips as she recalled the contents of the letter. She was greatly anticipating the completion of her orders.

  Two days later, Lady Catherine’s chaise and four rolled into Meryton, stopping in front of the milliner’s shop, which seemed to the coachman to be the busiest. He sent down the groom who rode on the back of the equipage to inquire of the ladies coming out of the building as to the location of Netherfield. It took only a few minutes for the young man to obtain the information, and as soon as he climbed back up on his perch, the coachman nudged the horses into motion.

  Inside the chaise, Lady Catherine mentally reviewed her plan. She hoped to find the young lady alone in the house, for she knew she would not get far with Darcy in the room. Her thoughts came to an abrupt halt when the carriage rolled to a stop. Looking out the window, she could see a large, well-kept home. She sniffed. It is nothing to Rosings, of course, but no house could ever be as fine as mine, with the exception of Pemberley. She could see the groom run up the front steps and ring the bell. When he rushed back down after speaking to the servant who opened the door, Lady Catherine leaned back into the black leather of the squabs and took a deep breath.

  “My lady, this is Netherfield. The housekeeper says that the Darcys are in residence.” The coachman delivered the news to his mistress, bowing and holding out his hand to assist her in disembarking.

  Within a few minutes, Lady Catherine was standing in the modestly decorated entrance hall. She looked around, noting the unremarkable furnishings that marked it as a leased home rather than a purchased one. She waited impatiently; to her, it seemed that she waited far too long, and she determined that she would ring a peal over the servant’s head for making the daughter of an earl cool her heels like this. In reality, it took less than a minute for Mrs. Nichols to discover who was in the drawing room and available to accept the visitor and then make her way back to the entry.

  “Mrs. Darcy awa
its you in the drawing room, madam. If you will walk this way...” The housekeeper gestured to the hallway and began walking toward the designated room, assuming the lady would follow.

  Lady Catherine did follow, complaining all the way down the hall about poor service and impertinent maids, and threatening to have Mrs. Nichols fired.

  The housekeeper was not concerned in the least. She had agreed to keep house for Mr. Bingley as a favor to Mrs. Philips, whose husband was the solicitor in charge of Netherfield’s lease. Mrs. Nichols knew that Mr. Bingley did not have the power to fire her; only Mr. Philips could do that, and if he were to do so, she would simply return to her comfortable life of retirement, helping her daughters raise their children and visiting her dearly departed husband’s grave every day. So, it mattered not to the housekeeper what threats this new visitor might make.

  Arriving at the door to the drawing room, Mrs. Nichols completely ignored the carping of the lady, curtseying to Elizabeth and announcing the visitor.

  “Lady Catherine de Bourgh.”

  ~~~***~~~

  William Collins stood in the middle of his bedchamber at Longbourn, staring at a letter in his hand. He had been shocked to receive it, not only because it came by one of Lady Catherine’s personal messengers, but also because of the sender. Miss de Bourgh had written to him, and though he had read the missive through twice, he did not know what to make of it.

  Shaking off his initial sense of surprise, Collins read the note once more, slowly and carefully this time instead of in the rushed manner he had previously. Remove Mrs. Darcy from my cousin’s life permanently…matters not the method…generously compensated. Collins’ eyes grew wide as Miss de Bourgh’s meaning became more clear. He looked up from the letter, not really seeing his surroundings. His eyes darted back and forth as his mind absorbed the import of her words.

  William Collins was the only child of a miserly, illiterate, and bad-tempered father and a weak and insipid mother. His father’s dominance had formed Collins into a young man with a humble appearance and low opinion of himself but with a streak of meanness buried within. His mother, though she had tried to influence her son, had not had the pluck to stand up to her husband, and so her efforts had ranged from ineffectual to outright overruled. The elder Collins, knowing that he was the heir-apparent to Longbourn and that his son was to succeed him should he die, decided that the boy should be educated and sent him off to university to study theology and become a clergyman.

  Collins the younger had performed fairly well at school, though he had not made any useful acquaintance there. It was sheer luck that had brought him into contact with his benefactress. His early success and, once his father passed away, his knowledge of his future as a landowner, had combined to make him proud and condescending, yet he still retained a humble mien. The combination resulted in a gentleman who both flattered those above him and at the same time inflated his own self-importance. Well-buried under the oddity of his behavior were a deep well of anger and the urge to cause pain to those who were, in his mind, his inferiors. He kept those desires under tight regulation much of the time, though there were instances all throughout his life where Collins had given in to them.

  Miss de Bourgh’s words were as a match to a pile of kindling in Collins’ heart. If she desires for Cousin Elizabeth to disappear, then disappear she shall. He became giddy as he thought of ways to make it happen.

  Chapter 3

  Meanwhile, at Netherfield…

  Lady Catherine swept past the impertinent Mrs. Nichols and into the room, her complaints suddenly silenced as her eyes swept the large area, finally coming to rest on an unknown young woman.

  Elizabeth stood silently, hands folded in front of her and chin raised, as this woman, who she knew to be Darcy’s aunt, inspected her. She was nervous, but as always when attempts were made to intimidate her, her courage rose. She knew this woman was unhappy that Darcy had married her, but that was simply unfortunate. There was nothing that could be done. Elizabeth and Darcy were irrevocably married, and that was a fact that was not going to change, even if one of them suddenly decided they wanted it to. As she waited for the lady to speak, Elizabeth was, without warning, overcome with the desire to go on the defensive, and impulsively greeted Lady Catherine before the elder lady could open with her own verbal salvo.

  “Welcome to Netherfield, Lady Catherine. Fitzwilliam has told me much about you. Unfortunately, he is out on the estate with Mr. Bingley. Please, do sit down. Tea is on its way up; I am certain you must be famished after your journey.”

  Lady Catherine was at first startled to hear the young woman speak; however, as Elizabeth continued, Lady Catherine became enraged. What was this girl thinking to take over in this manner? Acting on a long-ingrained habit, Lady Catherine interrupted. “I will not sit. If my nephew Darcy has told you about me, then you are aware that he cannot marry you. He is engaged already, to my daughter.” She lifted her walking stick and slammed it on the floor. “What have you to say to that?”

  Elizabeth had startled a bit at her opponent’s actions, but stood her ground. “What I say is that Fitzwilliam told me about your desire to see him wed to Miss de Bourgh. He also made it quite clear that he was not obligated by either duty or inclination to grant your wish.”

  “It was the greatest wish of her parents as well as his. Who are you to lure him away?”

  “Lure him?” Elizabeth laughed. “I did not lure him, madam. My husband chased me. I am a gentlewoman; my behavior and reputation are above reproach.”

  “Yes, lured him. You must have done something to turn his mind and his eyes away from my Anne. You have used your arts and allurements to make him forget what he owes to his family.”

  Elizabeth could not control the roll of her eyes at the lady’s stubborn desire to cling to a lost cause. “You shall have to ask Fitzwilliam about my arts and allurements, my lady, because I am not aware of any. I invite you once more to sit and enjoy a cup of tea.” She paused to motion the servant hovering at the door with a tray of tea things to come in and set it on the table nearby. Once the maid had scurried away to return to her other duties, Elizabeth took up the conversation again, interrupting Lady Catherine, who had apparently not been concerned about servants knowing her private business. The woman had not stopped speaking, even to take a breath. Elizabeth hoped that she did not lose consciousness for lack of air. Pouring out two cups of tea, she set Lady Catherine’s on the table nearest where the lady stood, for Darcy’s aunt had yet to sit.

  “Well?”

  “Oh, I am sorry, Lady Catherine. I was busy pouring your tea and did not hear your question. Please, do repeat it.” Elizabeth gracefully sat as she spoke and picked up her tea, taking a small sip when she finished speaking.

  Lady Catherine’s face grew red with anger. “I asked you who your uncles and aunts are, and who your mother is. Your connections are too poor for a gentleman of my nephew’s standing. You are a fortune hunter, are you not?”

  “You may ask questions, madam, that I do not choose to answer. Mr. Darcy knows my circumstances and my connections, and still, he chose me to stand by his side. You would be better served to interrogate him.” Elizabeth sipped her tea once more, this time a long, slow drink that served to infuriate Lady Catherine.

  “I will not have to, because you are leaving.”

  Elizabeth smiled at the ridiculousness of that statement. She was starting to enjoy this; she thought it was too bad that her family would not be able to hear her retelling of it. “I am not going anywhere.”

  Lady Catherine approached, her cane tapping the floor with each swing forward. “You will. A fortune hunter of your ilk can never turn down a large enough sum of money. Name your price; what do I have to pay you to walk away from my nephew?”

  As her visitor’s speech continued, Elizabeth’s amusement turned to anger. She stood, arms tightly at her sides, fists clenched. “No amount of money will ever make me leave my beloved Fitzwilliam. Even if it were possible for me
to go along with your absurd scheme, he and I are married. There is no getting out of that.”

  “Deaths can be feigned. I will pay for it all. You can choose a new name and start out fresh, perhaps in the former colonies. Name your price and your destination, and I will take care of the rest.”

  “Never, Lady Catherine. I will never leave my husband. I am sorry that you and your daughter are having difficulty accepting that he married me, but you have wasted your time and horses coming here today.”

  “Why, you impertinent, bold-,” The great lady’s speech was interrupted by her very own nephew.

  “Enough, Aunt.” Darcy’s face was set in an implacable mask as he strode to his wife’s side. Sliding his arm around her waist, he pulled her close as he addressed Lady Catherine once more. “Who are you to come into someone else’s home and treat that gentleman’s guest poorly? Are you so blind to good manners? Have you rusticated in Kent so long that you have forgotten how to be civilized?”

  Lady Catherine gasped. For her favorite nephew to speak to her so was unprecedented. He had always been so respectful and kind. “Well, I can see by your behavior that this insolent chit has already turned you away from what is good and right. I have never been spoken to in such a way in all my life! I never would have expected such a thing from you, Nephew!”

  “Again I say, enough! I heard everything I needed to from the hallway; I know exactly why you are here. I have told you for years…repeatedly told you…that I have no intention of marrying my cousin. None! I do not love her, and she does not have the temperament I believe the mistress of Pemberley should have. Neither of my parents said a word to me about my future wife and who they wished it to be. As a matter of fact, the only thing I was told was they wished me to be happy in marriage. That was stated often. I do not know why you have come up with this delusion, but it ends here and now.”

  “But Darcy, this girl you have married is so far below you, and Anne was formed for you! How could you deny the one who was made with you in mind?”