A Virtue of Marriage

by Elizabeth Ann West

  “Did you harvest . . .” A fit of coughing prevented Anne’s thought from completion. Charlotte quickly poured a glass of water for the lady to drink. As Anne lay back to rest from her coughing fit, Charlotte absently raked her fingers through the woman’s thinning hair, sitting on the edge of her bed.

  “Yes, the new crop finally came in and I expect to have more than enough for my plans.”

  “I’m so sorry you are unhappy. I cannot imagine my father forcing me to marry such a man.”

  Charlotte frowned for a moment, remembering the lack of aid her father gave in avoiding Mr. Collins’ particular attention. Of course, Mr. Collins, due to inherit the Bennet home in Hertfordshire called Longbourn, was originally set to marry one of his cousins, and Charlotte’s best friend. But Elizabeth Bennet had scorned Collins’ proposal, and she had even warned Charlotte he was not a nice man. The chance of leaving her family home as a successful married woman, with a future of returning to her neighborhood on one distant day, had caused Charlotte to throw caution to the wind. She always thought happiness in marriage was a matter of chance, she just never thought herself to be so unlucky.

  “It was not so much a forced marriage as the only offer ever made.” Charlotte winced at the embarrassment of such a confession. “Perhaps marriages of convenience are less a savings and more a waste than we thought! Now shall we get back to Lady Helena and her dastardly Uncle seeking to steal her inheritance?” Both ladies laughed at the irony of their situations as Charlotte pulled the contraband novel from the hiding space below Anne’s bed.

  The novelty of Anne’s laugh startled Darcy back to the present. He entered the room and the young woman playing companion to his sickly wife halted him in his tracks. He remembered now, it was that odious parson’s wife, the one who had taken the place of his dear Elizabeth at the altar. He pretended not to see Charlotte drop the book and slide it under the bed with a nudge of her slipper.

  “Fitzwilliam!” Anne’s gasp brought on another fit of coughs, and Charlotte and Darcy reached for the glass of water at the same time, spilling the clear liquid down the lace runner over the nightstand and into a wet puddle on the pale green rug.

  “Blast!”

  Anne’s coughing continued.

  “Pardon me, Mr. Darcy.” Charlotte scrambled to right the glass, pour more water, and hand it to Anne who was now gulping her breaths between coughs.

  “Ssh. Slowly, Anne. Don’t fret, you will only feel worse.”

  Fitzwilliam Darcy stood at a complete loss. Anne’s hair hung limply around her shoulders, her complexion the normal pale white he’d always seen. But the rattle in her cough and bluish tinge of her fingertips convinced him. The young girl he had chased and teased as a boy was slipping away from this world.

  “Forgive me, I must write a letter. It is a pleasure to see you again, Mrs. Collins.” Darcy bowed to the two women and strode confidently out of the suite, into the hall, and back towards his bedchamber, nearly knocking a squattish man, in possession of far too much forehead, to the ground.

  Immediately, the man bowed in a deep bend, taking full responsibility for the offense.

  “Mr. Darcy, may I say how pleased we are to hear of your return. It is a most celebrated event.”

  The gall of this man struck Darcy dumb. “I should hope my summons to Rosings is not an event to celebrate. My cousin is on her death bed.”

  “No, I mean to say, that is, it is most celebrated that you should return to Rosings, to wed, and as your presence brings an air of prestige that no other…”

  Darcy pinched the bridge of his nose. He wanted nothing more than to return to his chamber and pen the missive he must to his other cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, hoping he could finally get away. Finally, the portly man’s stuttering ended and Darcy realized he was waiting for his response. On what, he could not say as he had quit listening at “prestige.”

  “Certainly. Is there business I can help you with, Mr. . . .” Darcy purposely trailed off, not wishing to even utter the man’s name. How this bumbling fool could have ever thought himself elevated enough for the likes of his Elizabeth, he did not know. But it was arrogance, and Darcy despised arrogance where no true superiority of the mind existed.

  “Collins sir. Reverend Collins, at your most humble service, Mr. Darcy.”

  If this weren’t indeed a grave situation, Darcy would think himself trapped in a play of comedy not of his own making. His cousin was dying, her mother couldn’t be bothered, he might have no choice but to marry her to save the estate and risk losing his Elizabeth forever, and this pompous weasel was bowing to him. Again.

  “Thank you, Mr. Collins.” Darcy gave a pert nod of dismissal and tried to sidestep the man, to no avail.

  “Mr. Darcy, might I offer my pastoral services in this extreme time of grief? I have served her Ladyship for a number of years now and in her great wisdom, she has encouraged my counseling efforts to be at the ready for any such situation as my flock may require. As parson, I pray most earnestly that you look to our Heavenly Father at this time of loss and rely on Scripture for your answers before hardening your heart.”

  “Mr. Collins, my cousin still breathes!” Darcy took back his thought of being caught in a comedy. This was a nightmare. “Good day, sir.”

  This time he physically brushed the sycophant aside. He was not two steps when the man dared to call after him.

  “Pardon my intrusion, but perchance you’ve seen my wife, Charlotte, Mr. Darcy?”

  Darcy wheeled around on the spot and narrowed his eyes at the man. “Your wife?”

  Mr. Collins finally felt the disapproval he earned earlier and physically shrank an inch or two in stature under Darcy’s glare. “Yes. Mrs. Collins. She reads sermons to Mrs. Darcy daily.”

  Realization struck Darcy immediately, and he did not wish for the kind Charlotte to be caught hiding a novel under a bed. He surmised the reality of Mrs. Collins’ visits to his ailing cousin were unknown and as Darcy held not one ounce of respect for Mr. Collins, he would certainly preserve his cousin’s privacy to her secrets and by proxy, her friend.

  “Sermons. Of course. Yes, I did hear your wife reading to my cousin just moments ago. Wait here and I shall inquire.” Darcy once more walked past the man, his nostrils twitching at the overpowering smell of cheap cologne masking a failure to bathe.

  “I shall accompany you and be of pastoral assistance.” Mr. Collins took a few steps after Darcy, but froze when Mr. Darcy’s much taller stature immediately turned back around to address him.

  “You forget yourself, sir; perhaps my cousin is not decent for another man’s visit. Do you make a habit of barging in on the sick rooms of every lady in your district?”

  Mr. Collins face flushed to a deep shade of beet red. As he stammered more apologies, Darcy swiftly opened the bedroom door to Anne’s sitting room to gain entrance to her bedchamber. He interrupted a rather rousing reading from Mrs. Collins on the topic of Lady Helena’s near escape from her Uncle’s estate by clearing his throat. Charlotte crimsoned and immediately hid the book behind her back.

  “Forgive me, Anne. Mr. Collins is waiting in the hall for his wife.”

  Darcy didn’t miss the fleeting look of disgust on Mrs. Collins face before she hastened to the bed to gently clasp Anne’s hand in farewell.

  Gently, Darcy pulled the novel from Mrs. Collins hands as it waggled behind her back in front of him. He bowed to Anne and saw Mrs. Collins to the sitting room.

  “Mr. Darcy, about the reading material–”

  “There’s no need to explain, but after my earlier run-ins with Mr. Collins, perhaps it should remain with me? If it brings Anne a small amount of comfort, I shall offer to continue the story of Lady Helena and her dangerous adventures.”

  Charlotte nodded and flashed a brilliant smile. Suddenly, the bloom was gone from her face and she appeared stricken.

  “Good day, Mr. Darcy. I’m sorry we met again under such sad circumstances and please tell Miss de Bourgh I shall s
ee her tomorrow.”

  “Thank you, I believe my cousin would enjoy your presence.”

  Mrs. Collins opened the sitting room door to the hallway to find her husband pacing. She sighed and took his arm as he led her back down the grand staircase.

  Darcy shook his head and returned to Anne’s bedchamber, seizing the same chair previously occupied by Charlotte. He opened the book and began to read, watching with contentment as Anne smiled and relaxed against her pillows. In a few minutes, her breathing regulated, though it was very shallow for his tastes. He gently kissed her hand to take his leave, and resolved to not let anything or anyone get in the way of the letter he must write. He could not handle this alone.

  Chapter Four

  Hyde Park blossomed around Elizabeth Bennet as the early floral armies of spring marched forward, brashly breaking the earth around them. Attended by a maid employed by the Gardiner household named Anna, Elizabeth was dismayed that the warmer weather and start of the London Season brought more patrons to the park.

  Standing before a gigantic shrub carved into the shape of an elephant, Elizabeth stopped walking and giggled.

  “Miss?” Anna, who had been conspicuously walking behind her charge, lost the short distance between them when Miss Bennet abruptly stopped.

  “Sorry, Anna. I was merely remembering the first time Mr. Darcy and I walked these gardens. He makes a most impressive elephant,” Elizabeth explained.

  “Yes, miss.” Anna demurely nodded and continued walking after her employer’s niece. Twice daily walks were an exercise the other maids eschewed, but Anna did not mind Miss Elizabeth’s jolly spirit and energies. It certainly was more pleasurable to exercise than it was to scrub chamber pots.

  On their second circuit, Elizabeth spied a handsome fellow wearing the robin’s breast red coat of His Majesty’s Army. The tall, stocky fellow with reddish-brown sideburns nodded to her and touched the brim of his cap. It was the sign Elizabeth looked for every day. It meant the man, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, had news, and would be along shortly to call upon her at her relations’ home in Cheapside.

  “Come, Anna, we must hurry home.” Elizabeth slightly lifted her skirts to walk briskly towards her uncle’s carriage, with poor Anna nearly needing to run to keep up. But the joy was positively too overwhelming for Elizabeth to keep under good regulation. Perhaps Richard had a letter from her Fitzwilliam? Perhaps he at last had leave and could go to Kent to free her fiancée from this scheme of theirs to play the family false.

  Breathless, Anna managed a return to the carriage long after Elizabeth had entered and settled herself. Catching back her calm, the maid, who was a few years older than Miss Bennet, gazed sternly at the woman whose love life had caused such uproar in the household.

  “Miss Bennet, you frightened me that you would have left me behind. I did not know ladies could dart so in public.”

  Elizabeth left her vigil of the window to watch the Colonel’s progress to his own horse to smile broadly at the maid. Anna’s kindness and care had nearly transformed her into a personal maid of sorts, and Elizabeth would genuinely miss her constant companion when her new life with Mr. Darcy began. “No one knows me here, I can afford a bit of reckless abandon now and again.”

  Absent-mindedly, Elizabeth flexed her left foot, the very ankle she broke last autumn diving out the way of Mr. Darcy’s horse, Alexander. “Besides, I still so desperately cherish my abilities to walk and ramble. Trust me, once you lose your ability to walk, even for a short time, you remind yourself to not take your health for granted again!”

  The maid nodded sagely as the Gardiner carriage gave a lurch and stopped only to lurch again to turn onto the main road connecting Mayfair and Cheapside. The Colonel’s horse followed the carriage in a lazy, disinterested manner and Richard was careful to take a number of detours to disguise his destination. As he led his horse Sampson down a less-traveled alleyway to round the block, the stench of London’s daily life assaulted his senses. Careful to remain in the middle as much as possible, Richard hoped he was not mucking with the beast’s natural sense of direction with all of these obscured routes.

  Two ladies with extravagant costumes, just a touch too fashionable for the hour, strolled the path of Hyde Park with a nanny and babe behind them. One wore a dark blue gown in an attempt to hide her body’s changes from recently giving birth. The other wore a garish gown made of a gold and orange Indian sari, with matching plumage in her hair.

  “I was correct, I told you it was that upstart Elizabeth Bennet talking about Mr. Darcy! Louisa, we must call on Darcy House this very afternoon.” Caroline Bingley whispered hoarsely to her sister.

  “Curious, I believe that was his cousin who left around the same time. Perhaps it is he who is interested in Eliza. We both know the Bennets love their red coats.” Louisa Hurst gave a laugh that most carefully sounded like a snark.

  So angry to see her adversary, in London, with connections of some kind to Mr. Darcy, the feathers in Caroline’s head bobbled furiously from the shudder of her clenched jaw. Narrowing her eyes to see the last of the carriage rolling away towards the less fashionable side of town, incidentally the same direction of the Hurst town home though that home was not so far as to be labeled as Cheapside, Caroline stomped her slippered foot in exasperation. Too many times Darcy had slipped through her fingers, and Caroline was determined to not let it happen again.

  “I feel a headache coming on.” Louisa touched her forehead for effect.

  “You always feel a headache coming on. I want to call on Miss Darcy, forgive me, Mrs. Wickham, as soon as we are able.”

  Louisa frowned at her sister and with a swish of her skirts, began walking towards her own equipage. “Allow the poor woman to return to London, if you please. I have no interest in running to our brother in Bath.”

  Caroline pulled a fan from her reticule and snapped it open to cover her expression of utter disgust should they pass a lady of importance on their departure. She had not been taken on Charles’ wedding trip with Jane, a manipulation she instigated, as an attempt to ensnare Darcy at Netherfield Park after Charles’ departure. Instead, she had missed the opportunity to ingratiate herself further with Darcy’s younger sister who was coincidentally in the same town enjoying her wedding trip. The world was patently unfair and Caroline refused to think for one moment if she only ceased trying to dictate her own fate, perhaps Providence might shine more favorably upon her.

  Chapter Five

  The Gardiner town home at Twenty-Seven Gracechurch Street in Cheapside was aflutter with activity. Elizabeth and her maid Anna entered the home to hear Mrs. Gardiner speaking excitedly from the sitting room. A deep baritone voice, unfamiliar to Elizabeth, and certainly not belonging to her uncle, could also be heard. Elizabeth looked to Anna as the maid assisted in removing her cloak and bonnet.

  Elizabeth paused for a moment to check her appearance in the peering glass mounted in the hallway. If her aunt was to introduce her to a new acquaintance, she wished to look her best. Elizabeth Bennet had never been a vain creature. However, since her secret alliance with Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Derbyshire, the young woman of little consequence from Hertfordshire took greater care in how she was to be perceived by others.

  “I am utterly conflicted, I love both paper patterns equally it seems. The olive and cream stripes are very calm and soothing, while this navy blue with a touch of gold might appeal more to Mr. Gardiner, I believe.” Madeleine Gardiner held up the two samples of wallpaper against the aging roses currently in her plastered in her sitting room.

  “Observing this room receives a fair amount of sun, might I suggest the olive and cream paper might hold up better to nature’s assault from these gorgeous windows you possess?” the mysterious man suggested.

  “Are we to redecorate the sitting room as well?” Elizabeth raised an eyebrow as she cheekily spoke out to announce her arrival. Her aunt made the necessary introductions, explaining to Elizabeth the man was no other than Mr. Thaddeus Warren,
an up-and-coming interior decorator who came highly recommended from Mrs. Henrietta Carlton, the dressmaker.

  Elizabeth took a look at both wallpaper samples and had to admit that she agreed with the decorator. The navy blue, a heavily masculine color scheme, would not serve as a decoration she would find herself enjoying in a room with it plastered on the walls.

  “I suspect we have company soon to arrive, would it be acceptable if I use Uncle’s study?”

  Madeleine Gardner waved her hand at her niece and agreed, knowing without asking who the impending visitor was likely to be. The cousin of Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, had enjoyed a number of dinners and evenings in her home. If Lizzie were not so in love with the dark man from Derbyshire, Mrs. Gardiner began to think the jovial natures of her niece and the Colonel would easily suit one another.

  “Have Anna attend you, and the post is on your uncle’s desk. I believe I spied a letter for you.” Mrs. Gardiner smiled as Elizabeth bowed her head to the decorator out of courtesy, and then nearly leapt from the room.

  The pile of correspondence on the desk included a number of letters addressed to her Uncle Edward, but at last, Lizzie found a strange missive from Kent. It was not from her Mr. Darcy, but instead from her dearest friend from Hertfordshire, Charlotte Lucas, now a married woman to her cousin Collins.

  Dearest Lizzie,

  Spring approaches in our lovely corner of the kingdom and I found myself wishing to invite you for a visit at your earliest convenience. My father and Maria were to come for the Easter holidays, but a change in their plans opens an opportunity for us to reunite sooner, if it pleases you.

  You promised to come see me once settled, and I am happy to report the parsonage so generously bestowed by Lady Catherine has at last become home. It would ever so delight my husband and your cousin, to have you visit and partake in the scenic grounds of the Lady Catherine’s estate. There are many paths for walking, and you would most certainly enjoy our regular inclusions at dinners with Lady Catherine herself. Please say you shall come. I eagerly await your reply.