A Fortunate Alliance

by Beth Poppet

  “No,” she replied, not able to keep the regret from her tone. “He… may have confessed to having developed some kind of affection for me, but as we were in the midst of a quarrel when it happened I can hardly recall all that was said. I did not want to believe his accusations against Mr Wickham with so little of the particulars, and I did not answer him as graciously as I should have. His response to my mistrustful rudeness was to belittle our family connexions and assure me he no longer cares for me.” She tried to put on a light-hearted tone and finished with a mischievous, “There, Jane. What do you say to me ruining my prospects for a rich and handsome husband? How Mama would despair to know of it, despite her dislike of him.”

  “He said all this?” Jane asked, taking no heed to Lizzy’s comment regarding their mother. “You are certain he said he does not love you any longer?”

  “Jane…” Lizzy began with a longsuffering sigh, and a sad smile.

  “Perhaps he did not mean it,” Jane said eagerly, “Perhaps he was nervous; flustered by your rejection of his cautions, and only sought to save his pride in the moment. You said yourself you regret the majority of your stinging replies.”

  “Yes, but that does not negate the fact of how impossibly distinct our situations are. Even if he were still to care for me, I almost think it a kindness for him to conquer his affections for the sake of his own pride.”

  “I do not believe you truly mean that,” Jane answered knowingly. “But what do you think, Lizzy?” she leaned closer to her sister although they were the only two in the room. “Could you be in danger of developing deeper feelings for him yourself?”

  “I… do not know,” she answered sincerely. “Perhaps? But what use is it to question my own heart when his is so unreachable now? No,” she shook her head with determination. “It is as our father likes to say, ‘quite a hopeless business,’ and there is nothing else to be done. Mr Darcy must find a suitable heiress to overthrow his aunt’s intentions for Miss Anne de Bourg, and I must hope for another Mr Wickham, minus the wickedness and deception.”

  Jane smiled affectionately, knowing that to be Elizabeth’s way of ending the conversation before she grew annoyed or disheartened.

  Though Elizabeth’s intention of putting Mr Darcy behind her was confidently stated, she felt no such confidence in herself. And although before their quarrel Lizzy had grown confused and unwelcoming towards Mr Darcy’s frequent interruptions, she now hoped for him to appear along with the opportunity to apologise for her behaviour in the attempt to mend whatever unpleasantness remained between them. Mr Darcy however gave no such opportunity. He no longer came upon her in the grove, nor did he call on Mr Collins between invitations to Rosings. Jane suggested that the fine weather kept him out of doors, but Mary mentioned several instances of having seen Mr Darcy while visiting with Anne, and though Lizzy’s indirect wheedling produced little more than that, it seemed evident that he was not engaged elsewhere, but merely avoided the parsonage and Lizzy’s favourite haunts on purpose.

  Colonel Fitzwilliam continued to call, and Elizabeth was grateful that not all connexions to the great house had been severed at once since Miss de Bourgh’s consideration did not extend beyond Mary’s person. It was the colonel that came to tell them of Mr Darcy’s being summoned away quite suddenly due to a riding accident that had rendered a good friend of his seriously injured. The identity of the friend was not discovered by the ladies at Hunsford until Jane received a letter from Caroline Bingley, indicating it was her brother Charles who had been thrown from his horse and how greatly he suffered. She was certain he would make a full and fast recovery as he had much to rally for in the person of a Miss Marion Darnham, who they all hoped would be recipient of a marriage proposal just as soon as Mr Bingley was able to rise out of bed and ask for her hand.

  The news of his fall came as quite a shock to Jane, and although she bore it as best she was able, Elizabeth grew worried for her sleeplessness and anxiety, which only exacerbated her already uncomfortable condition. The mention of Miss Darnham did not surprise nor disturb her, as she contested Lizzy’s worried expressions with the declaration that Mr Bingley was a handsome and agreeable young man who had every right to find a suitable wife, as he could not desire to have his sister keep house for him forever. It was not his courtship that concerned her, but his health alone. Elizabeth worried that Caroline Bingley had detailed too much of both to be good for Jane, who worried endlessly over it, but knew not how to request more information on the matter in a discreet fashion.

  Colonel Fitzwilliam enquired after Jane during one of his walks with Elizabeth, and hoped she was faring better than before.

  “She is… indisposed a great deal these days,” Lizzy answered, happy that someone took notice of Jane besides her. “I should not be so surprised that you would notice something amiss before some of her closest relations.” By this bitter remark, she meant Mr Collins, but the colonel respectfully ignored it.

  “Oh, it was not based on my own observations that I enquired, but Darcy who suspected something wrong before he was summoned to London.”

  “Mr Darcy enquired after Jane?”

  “Why, yes.” the colonel said as if it the most natural thing in the world. “He said she seems so altered since he last saw her in Hertfordshire he might not have recognised her but for her relation to you. He wondered if the demands of the parsonage were too much for her at present considering her condition. He also suggested a scheme might be hatched up to convince Lady Catherine of the prudence in lending one of her maids a few times a week to ease whatever burdens might oppress her. To my shame I am only now recalling it, along with his directive to seek your counsel in the matter so that we might present it in a delicate and appropriate manner, the more likely to ensure its acceptance.”

  “That is… extremely generous of Mr Darcy.” Elizabeth was not sure where to look in order to hide her embarrassment.

  “Yes,” he assented. “I did wonder why he did not ask you himself, but there appears to be some recent unpleasantness between you that prevented his doing so. I confess, it troubles me a great deal to see you at odds, as I am rather found of you both,” he smiled warmly. “But I fear my cousin drives most people away with his boorish attitude.”

  Elizabeth bit her tongue and was very near to confessing that it was more than likely she that had driven him away—or might have been had he not been summoned to Mr Bingley’s side.

  The colonel went on. “One thing he tells me which brings me great joy is that you are not engaged to Mr Wickham after all. Is this true?”

  “It is, indeed,” she confirmed, letting out a short sigh.

  “Ah,” he nodded in contentment. “There must have been some misunderstanding between you and his aunt then, for Lady Catherine was adamant about your being engaged to him. He is now a lieutenant in Colonel Forster’s regiment, I think?”

  “Yes, a virtue in itself if my sisters are to be believed,” Elizabeth said. “But I am not engaged to him, nor anyone else for that matter.”

  “Well, this is something strange,” he frowned, “I wonder how Lady Catherine came to believe such a rumour.”

  “That was some of my own stubborn foolishness, I’m afraid, and my sister Mary’s who began it. My desire to unsettle Lady Catherine overwhelmed my good sense to stop a rumour before it was allowed to grow.”

  Colonel Fitzwilliam stood still, halting their walk for a brief moment. “I must confess,” he said with feeling, “I am greatly relieved to hear you are not attached to such a man.”

  Elizabeth dared to search his expression, but there was nothing amorous directed towards her in look or tone.

  Realising how his words might be misinterpreted, he cleared his throat and haltingly said, “I only mean that the wrong he did to Miss… Were you to marry, I would have hoped you every happiness in the world, Miss Bennet, but now that you are safe… Well, forgive me. I speak of matters I have no business in relating.”

  “If you mean to refer to the crue
l way in which he used Miss Darcy,” she said, relieving some of his distress, “I am now fully aware of it. Mr Darcy has told me himself by way of letter, mere days before he hastened to London.”

  His frown deepened, but still she did not detect any particular warmth in it for her own sake. “Then you understand Darcy’s great hatred for Wickham, and the reason why it was such a blow for him to be told you had formed an attachment in Hertfordshire.”

  “He… told me something of his disappointment in that regard, though I was not able to rise to his sensibilities then, and I feel rather guilty for the way that we parted. But let us talk of other matters,” she insisted, not wishing to divulge too much of her disappointment to the colonel. “Have you met Miss Darcy? I always hear the most complimentary things about her.”

  “Indeed, I have,” he replied with a chuckle, “I knew Georgiana before she could reach the roof of her dolls’ house on tiptoe.”

  Excited to know someone with the years of experience required to form a proper judgement, Elizabeth asked eagerly, “And what is your opinion of her? Is she as amiable and accomplished as everyone says?”

  He ducked his head, appearing almost bashful. “She was always a sweet-tempered child, and eager to please anyone who paid her heed. But now that she is a little older, a measure wiser, and more guarded with her affections, I think her one of the most handsome women I have ever seen. She is every bit the ideal young lady, but her accomplishments have not spoiled her loveliness in the least.” His gaze was far away, then, as if the object of his praise stood before him now at some distance. “She bears all the praise heaped upon her with humble thanks, but utterly devoid of the affectations which make ladies of refinement so abominably disingenuous.”

  Elizabeth’s smile grew with his compliments. “That is praise indeed, and exactly the opposite of what Mr Wickham has said of her. I am glad,” she concluded, “for I can trust your opinion above anyone else’s, I am sure. Mr Darcy is far too loyal a brother to speak any ill of her whatsoever.”

  “Perhaps you should not place such faith in me then,” he said, colouring slightly. “I may be unable to give the fair judgement you seek.”

  At this, there seemed to be something more like affection in his tone, and the deepening of his blush with the realisation of what he’d let slip only confirmed it. “I meant only that along with her brother, I am also Miss Georgiana Darcy’s guardian, and of course I would wish to think the best of my charge.”

  “Oh,” Elizabeth laughed, delighted. “I do not think all guardians would be readily inclined to think the best of their charges, Colonel. In fact, I find it most often the opposite.”

  This pronouncement flustered him even further, and the conversation was hastily turned to things that had nothing to do with Miss Darcy and her accomplishments. Elizabeth was certain she had stumbled upon the colonel’s secret but would not speak of it for the world lest he be tempted to grow more guarded with her on account of it.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The invalid’s room was anything but a cell of suffering. Although Charles Bingley was in a bad way from waist to toes, the house in S— Street had provided a cheerful room to be laid up in, and the attending physician could not have asked for a pleasanter patient to care for. The view from the window in the upper room overlooked the park, and as Mr Bingley grew strong enough to sometimes be moved from the bed to a chair by the window, he would watch the families come and go and remark on how excellent a rider the young girl with the new pony already was, or how happy the boys setting their ships off onto the pond appeared to be.

  When Darcy arrived to find him in this favoured spot, propped up by pillows, and kept from a chill by a great dressing gown of green brocade, he might have assumed it was merely a lazy morning and not a terrific fall from an accident which held his friend in a state of undress at such a late hour of the day. Though the pallor in Bingley’s complexion and the oddly twisted manner of his right leg gave some indication of what had transpired to force him there.

  “Darcy!” he exclaimed, and the first real sign of his injury was when he did not rise to greet his friend, but rather stretched out his hands in welcome. “You’ve made excellent time! I’ve barely grown used to the idea of being an invalid for the rest of my days, and here you are to cheer me further!” His smile was infectious, and Darcy returned it, though with less zeal.

  “What is the prognosis?” he asked, sitting in the chair across from Bingley. The perspective gave an entirely uninteresting view of the street, mostly obscured by a tall tree in full bloom. It was evidently not much used, and Darcy wondered how little Caroline must attend her brother here.

  “Not the best,” Bingley admitted, his smile only decreasing minutely. “Although there is small chance for me to regain the ability to walk, there is even less chance of me making a full recovery. I’ll likely use a cane for the rest of my life, if I learn to walk at all.”

  Darcy knit his brows in concern. “Is there anything I can do? May I take you and Caroline to my townhouse until you are recovered? You may be more comfortable in the larger rooms there.”

  “You mean stay in London indefinitely?” His face fell at the suggestion. “That is the last thing I could wish. No, I think I would prefer to reopen Netherfield Park as it is still in my possession. I was never happier than when I was at Netherfield, you know. I think I should like very much to regain what strength I might be granted in the countryside. I think the view from the yellow room is a considerable improvement to any of the sights in town, and I daresay I have the best that can be afforded here in this room.”

  “Very well,” Darcy grew quiet a moment, lost in some pondering of his own. “If you wish it.”

  “I do, Darcy. And you must accompany me,” he insisted. “I haven’t the gift for self-discipline, and the surgeon says I must be very dedicated indeed if I wish to make any kind of recovery. I will need your unflagging nature to keep me on task. Left to myself, I’d just as soon live out the rest of my days in an easy chair and die at thirty with a newspaper on my lap.”

  “You will do no such thing,” Darcy said dryly. “I absolutely forbid it.”

  “And that is exactly why I require your presence during my attempts to rally,” Bingley grinned. “Caroline hasn’t the bedside manner one might desire in such a situation, and I trust you not to be so shrill when you insist on me following this or that order from the physician.”

  “Then I shall help make the arrangements for Netherfield to be reopened immediately,” he affirmed.

  “You may make the arrangements but let us not hurry away too quickly. Caroline is by no means eager to return, and I mean to give her a month or two more to enjoy the heights of the season here in town. I am already a nuisance to her and everyone else with my useless legs in this way. I would feel a perfect wretch if we were to force her to the countryside so soon again.”

  “I daresay she could tolerate it well enough if she had a mind to,” Darcy uttered, devoid of any real sympathy for her as his own feelings on the matter were not consulted and he had no great affection for anything in Hertfordshire, nor were his last memories there the most pleasant in recollection. At least he need not concern himself with the chance of crossing paths with Elizabeth Bennet there as she was most likely to stay at Hunsford for the duration of Mrs Collins’s delicate condition.

  “But what of Miss Darnham?” Darcy wondered aloud, “Does she not live here in town? Would it not be more comfortable to stay where she is near?”

  “I see Caroline has not informed you,” Bingley said with a sigh. “I was never seriously attached you know, but there was such a buzz about town that I began to feel obligated to Miss Darnham. I did not want to propose, but Caroline insisted it was necessary to prevent a scandal. I was fully prepared to do my duty by her and offer my hand and home, if not my heart. But as soon as word got out of my accident, her father came to me in distress, pleading with me not to propose to his daughter lest she attach herself to an invalid for the r
est of her life. I wrote to her from my bed, apologising for any misunderstanding and asking if she had any desire to marry. She sent a very pretty reply, assuring me she bore me no ill will, wishing me well, and requested that I never write to her again.”

  His friend had lapsed into a brooding silence which Bingley took to mean disapproval. “What of you, Darcy? You do not object to going back to the primitive wilds of Hertfordshire, do you?”

  “I endured it well enough the last time,” he put crossly.

  “Yes, but Miss Bennet still resides in Hunsford with her sister, does she not?” Bingley answered with a roguish smirk.

  “And what of it?” His lips twitched in response, but he could not bring himself to smile. “Miss Bennet is an attractive and fascinating young woman, but she is utterly opposed to attaching herself to a man with so little to recommend himself in the way of charms and flattery.”

  “You do yourself and Miss Bennet far less credit than deserved,” Bingley chastised. “The two of you got on splendidly whenever you were together, and I never saw you so animated, nor inclined to engage with a person before in my life.”

  “You are grossly exaggerating.”

  “Now that is unjust of you, Darcy. I’ve known you longer than almost anyone other than… Well, I’ve known you a good long while, and you cannot persuade me that there is nothing between you and Miss Bennet.”

  “Perhaps,” he reflected, “there might have been at one time, but I have already given her the means to do me great harm, and it remains to be seen whether she will add injury to rejection or no.”

  “Has she rejected, you, Darcy?” Bingley leaned forward in surprise, paling when the movement struck a tender nerve.

  “There was no true offer to reject. I did not lay my heart out so much as to risk a blank refusal, but she said enough in one heated exchange for even a fool to ascertain her meaning. Miss Elizabeth Bennet will have none of me, and in matters of station and familial obligation, I think it for the best.”