Darcy's Ultimatum

by Jennifer Joy

  “Lizzy, if you marry Mr. Collins, then we can stay at Longbourn. Think of me and think of your sisters. Our future is in your hands. You can save us.” Her pleading look tugged at Elizabeth’s heart, but she would not sacrifice her happiness so easily.

  “Mother, the London season is only a week away. Am I really to throw away my chances of a good match to marry Mr. Collins? At least give me a season with Jane. If I am unsuccessful, then…”

  Mrs. Bennet’s face lit up as the idea hit her and Elizabeth realized her mistake.

  “Lizzy, it is perfect,” she said, clapping her hands. “You may have a season in London. Your aunt and uncle have made the arrangements already anyway. If you do not find a better situation, then you are to marry Mr. Collins.”

  Elizabeth opened her mouth to protest and clarify, but her mother continued, “Oh, Lizzy, you are so clever. I never should have thought of that on my own. I am going right now to tell your father.”

  With that, her mother bustled out of the room and Elizabeth grabbed a pillow and screamed into it. She kicked herself mentally for providing her mother with the perfect ultimatum. She now had three months to find a husband… or else marry a man she despised.

  That very evening, as Mr. Collins gushed over the excellence of the meal— of which he partook indulgently— he asked Mr. Bennet if he might request an audience with him to discuss a most delicate subject.

  “I cannot imagine what would be so delicate a subject that you could not speak of it in front of my wife and daughters. You have made no scruples of expounding on the improvements needed on the estate not only to me, but with anyone who would hear you. I see no reason to keep any other subject secret.” He smiled nicely at Mr. Collins, though his voice was hard.

  Mr. Collins squirmed in his chair at the uncomfortable situation he found himself in. Elizabeth was sitting immediately to his right and Mary to his left. He turned to his right and opened his mouth to speak when Mrs. Bennet said, “I do hope, Mr. Collins, that you have enjoyed your time with us in Longbourn. It is a relief to my mind to know that Mr. Bennet’s heir is so detailed in his observations and so generous with his time so as to spend two weeks of it with us. Is that not right, Mr. Bennet?” She paused to take a breath, but continued before Mr. Bennet could reply or Mr. Collins could speak.

  Elizabeth paid rapt attention to her mother’s words; for she had a presentiment that it involved her future.

  “Next week, Jane and Elizabeth are to travel to London for the season. This is a trip that we have spent much time and effort arranging— not knowing at the time of your visit, of course. They are to visit family there and they will stay for the duration of the season. Now, I understand that your wish is to marry one of my daughters and you have my blessing in doing so, sir. I have confidence that my two oldest will make brilliant matches, but you still have three to choose from. However, I do request that you refrain from any declarations until all of my daughters have returned to Longbourn. I can see from your reaction that you understand and I thank you most kindly.” Pleased with herself, she smiled around the table and requested that they serve punch in celebration of the upcoming holiday and imminent wedding.

  Mr. Collins, his plans clearly frustrated, said, “I should not like to alter your plans. I daresay a prenuptial vacation will save me the expense of a honeymoon.” Mr. Collins evidently did not have the same faith that Mrs. Bennet had in Elizabeth to make an advantageous match.

  The idea of a honeymoon with Mr. Collins caused Elizabeth to gag. She sipped some wine to settle the bile that was rising from her stomach.

  Elizabeth was grateful that her mother had bought her some time, but as Mr. Collins continued to look in her direction and she became more convinced of his intentions toward her, she wished she was sitting anywhere but next to Mr. Collins.

  Later that night, as she and Jane were changing into their bed clothes, Jane asked her, “Do you think we can do it, Lizzy? Can we find husbands so quickly and easily? I do not wish for either of us to be forced to marry Mr. Collins.”

  Putting on a brave face, Elizabeth laughed and said, “Jane, I am certain that you will have many suitors to choose from. You shall take your pick.” She swept her arm dramatically in front of her. Jane smiled, but worry was in her eyes.

  Grabbing the hair brush and getting to work on her sister’s flaxen locks, Elizabeth said, “Jane, I really think that you do not need to be concerned. As mother always says, ‘She cannot be that beautiful for nothing.’”

  “But Lizzy, what about you?”

  “As for me, I’ve always lived by my wits and I will find my way out of this. Perhaps your suitor will have a brother.” She chewed her bottom lip, trying so hard to feel the same conviction she felt for her sister. But a nervous knot settled in her stomach. What if I cannot find a better suitor and I have to marry Mr. Collins?

  Chapter 8

  Darcy sulked all the way back to London, his father’s threat of disinheritance and Wickham’s menacing departure weighing heavily on his shoulders.

  Parliament’s Easter session break had ended, signaling the height of the infamous London Season which would continue until the summer heat made the stench of the city unbearable. Darcy preferred his peaceful country life with its abundant fresh air.

  After spending days alone with his thoughts as he traveled, it was a relief to arrive at Darcy House in Grosvenor Square.

  Georgiana was not home. The butler informed Darcy that she and her governess had gone to visit a display of antiquities and had not yet arrived, nor did he know how soon to expect them.

  In need of some exercise, Darcy asked for his stable hand to saddle a horse. He was going for a ride in Hyde Park on Arion, one of his favorite thoroughbreds. It was the fashionable hour to see and be seen and would further his interests in finding a suitable bride. No sense in delaying.

  His valet gave him a fresh shave and in a short time, Darcy was presentable and mounting his horse in a fresh change of clothes and riding boots.

  As he rode over the paths at the park, several ladies in the highest fashion were about. Some showed their riding prowess on their own mounts, but most rode in stylish open carriages which Darcy could observe with ease from the height of his horse. The park was a sea of colorful parasols. Several dandies rode about, wearing ridiculous waistcoats and cravats of various colors and designs. Darcy did, and would always, prefer a crisp white cravat over such extravagances— no matter what was in vogue in the ton.

  He weaved through the carriages, observing the contents of each, nodding when it was appropriate in greeting. He looked over to the walking path where a young lady was walking with a child, a shawl loosely draped over her shoulders. In the explosion of color all over the park, she stood out in her simple dress. She was laughing and swinging arms with the young girl she was walking with.

  When Darcy recognized her, his first reaction was to retreat before she saw him and he would be forced to speak with her. However, shrinking back from a challenge was not in his nature. I am better than this. Besides, he was curious to see Miss Elizabeth Bennet again. It had already been a month since the puddle incident in Hertfordshire. He wondered why she was walking when riding was clearly the better option.

  A lady’s scream, followed by more shouts and yelling drew Darcy’s attention further up the walking path. A brilliant pink waistcoat identified the rider for Darcy. Lord Henry Tefton was known for his flamboyant dress and extravagant taste. These paths were not made for racing or for inexperienced horsemen who could not handle their mount. The fool.

  Lord Tefton drew closer to where Miss Elizabeth and the child were walking. Miss Elizabeth, seeing the danger coming their way, ran off the path, pulling the girl with her. Other pedestrians scrambled to clear the way, but the movements of his horse were unpredictable. Lord Tefton clearly had no control. He needed stopped.

  In a flash, Darcy turned his horse. He could intercept Lord Tefton by cutting directly across the lawn. Weaving through the people, shouti
ng ahead for them to move aside, Darcy adjusted his trajectory to reach his goal without doing any harm. He had to close the gap to Lord Tefton’s horse before it got out of reach.

  Lord Tefton was now close enough for Darcy to see the panic on his face and the wild look in his stallion’s eyes. Darcy jabbed the sides of his horse for one final push, aiming for the head of Lord Tefton’s mount. He had to get close. He reached out to grab the horse’s bridle when they hit. The impact shook him, but he had braced himself for it. Lord Tefton had not. As Darcy grabbed the reins and spoke in a low voice to calm the beast, which was frothing at the mouth, Lord Tefton flew off the side of his horse and landed unceremoniously on the ground. He soon righted himself and huffed over to Darcy to reclaim his horse, a whip in his hand.

  “I say, what is the meaning of this?” he blustered as he waved the whip in the air. His horse shied at the sight of it.

  Darcy snapped at his foolishness. “Have you no concern for the crowds? Had I not stopped you, surely you would have trampled someone to the ground.” He scanned the crowds for any injuries— and for Miss Elizabeth. He could not see her.

  “Nonsense, dear boy,” Lord Tefton said condescendingly. “It may have appeared so to the untrained eye. I am a remarkable horseman.” He concerned himself with arranging his hair, which was askew in every way imaginable, as he blew off Darcy’s concerns like specks of dust.

  “Be that as it may, I cannot in good conscience return your horse. Look at the state of your mount.” He gripped the bridle firmly in hand.

  A crowd had gathered to watch the spectacle. Darcy was angry and doing his best not to lose his temper and embarrass Lord Tefton further.

  In the distance, he saw a young man come riding toward them. He hoped it was Lord Tefton’s groom.

  Turning back, he asked, “Did you ride with a groom today?”

  “I am perfectly capable of returning to my home with my own horse,” the Lord hissed. “Were it not for your presumptuousness, I would have been half-way there by now.”

  “I doubt that,” Darcy said to himself, chafing at the Lord’s verbal attack.

  “I challenge you, Darcy. A race, here and now, at Rotten Row,” Lord Tefton huffed the words out, looking as excited as his horse had minutes before when Darcy caught the bridle.

  “You know as well as I do that galloping is frowned upon. I think it best that we continue about our business and forget this unfortunate incident,” Darcy replied. Would the groom never arrive? Darcy was getting impatient and Arion could sense it, shifting his weight and pawing at the ground.

  “If you are too cowardly to meet my challenge, let these people serve as witnesses that you forced your ‘help’ upon me when it was not needed.” He waved his hands to include the crowd and laughed at his own cleverness, though his whip almost knocked a lady’s bonnet off.

  Darcy tensed at the insult. He opened his mouth to reply when he found her. Their eyes locked for a moment. She looked as irate as he felt and, for a moment, Darcy was speechless.

  Finally, the groom arrived with his head hung and looking at nobody. When Darcy lifted his arm to hand him the reins, the young man flinched back. The young man’s reaction made Darcy’s blood boil toward Lord Tefton who, in Darcy’s mind, should be horse whipped and stripped of his title.

  In a voice loud enough for Lord Tefton to hear, Darcy said, “Please see your master safely home. Should he lay a hand on you or this horse, he will answer to me.” The groom nodded, looking grateful. Then he helped his master mount and took the reins of the now exhausted horse. Darcy looked on as they headed back the way from which they had come, the groom leading the way.

  With nothing more to see, the crowd dispersed.

  Darcy looked back to where Miss Elizabeth had been standing. She was still there. The young girl who was with her stepped out from behind her, the threat of danger gone.

  He rode over and dismounted.

  “Miss Benent.” He bowed and looked toward the girl she was with.

  “Mr. Darcy, this is my cousin, Emma Gardiner. Jane and I are staying with her family this season.” The little girl curtsied deeply, her eyes wide and adoring. Emma favored her cousin in appearance and Darcy imagined how a ten year old Miss Elizabeth had looked.

  Darcy greeted Emma, saying how pleased he was to make her acquaintance.

  “I had not thought to see you in London, Mr. Darcy.” Miss Elizabeth either blushed or her face was still warm from the recent excitement.

  Assuming the latter, Darcy said, “I apologize for the spectacle. You are unharmed, I hope?”

  “There is no mud about. I am quite safe, thank you,” she replied with a twinkle in her eye.

  Darcy breathed fully and smiled. “You do have an unusual way of meeting people, Miss Bennet. Do you find society in town agreeable?”

  She cocked her head to the side. “In general, yes. The gentleman, or I should say ‘man’ for there was nothing gentle about him… He is a Lord? I found him very disagreeable.”

  “That was Lord Tefton. I fear that many titled gentlemen, even ladies, take a different view of proper behavior than I do.”

  “He might want revenge. He did not take kindly to your assistance and he may think you made him appear foolish— although he did a fine job of that on his own, I think.”

  “What would you have had me do? Accept his challenge or stoop to apologize?” Once again, Miss Elizabeth managed to take offense with his actions.

  “Hmm. I can see that apologizing does not come easily to you.”

  “I have not had the occasion to do so very often.”

  “You never make mistakes? Perfection is a heavy burden, sir.”

  “I have had the advantage of learning from others’ mistakes. I feel no need to experience them for myself.” It came out sharper than he had planned, but Miss Elizabeth did chafe him so. He must be just as big a fool as Lord Tefton for he stood rooted to the ground when he should leave.

  “I cannot disagree with you on that, though I am tempted to try. It is the course of wisdom to learn from others. You do take yourself very seriously.” She squinted her eyes as she looked at him. He felt like a bug under a magnifying glass. He did not want her to scrutinize him. Miss Elizabeth seemed intent on finding his faults.

  How she could agree and make a virtue sound like a flaw in the same sentence confounded Darcy.

  Miss Elizabeth spoke before he had to answer. “I would have wished to react much as you did, I think. With such ill-treatment of his servants and his horse, I would have horsewhipped him and stripped him of his title. I apologize for speaking so frankly, but injustice should never be tolerated.” Her hands were clenched at her sides and her nostrils flared. Darcy was grateful her wrath was directed at Lord Tefton and not himself. It was easy to overlook Miss Elizabeth’s improper comment when she had complimented him so well.

  Miss Elizabeth looked at the young girl, Miss Emma. She was still gawking at Darcy and his horse. Miss Elizabeth had to shake her hand to get Miss Emma’s attention.

  “Emma, we should head home.” She looked at Darcy.

  He knew he should leave, but his mouth spoke faster than his brain. “I will walk you home,” he said, as he mentally kicked himself. He should have left while Miss Elizabeth still held a high opinion of him, but he was curious to know where her family lived.

  She smiled at him and Darcy wondered if maybe it was the better choice after all.

  Darcy looked at Miss Emma. She appeared to be about ten years of age— the age Georgiana had when Father gave her her first horse.

  “Miss Emma, would you like to ride my horse? I will lead,” he stooped down to read her expression.

  She jumped up and down, clapping her hands. “Oh, I would love to,” she said in excitement. “What is his name?”

  “His name is Arion.”

  Miss Emma approved of the name and immediately stepped forward so Arion could sniff her extended hand. She stroked the soft velvet of his muzzle.

  “That i
s a big name for a horse to live up to,” commented Miss Elizabeth.

  “You are familiar with Greek literature?” Darcy was surprised.

  “My father has a well-stocked study and he indulged me.” Miss Elizabeth smiled as she spoke of her father.

  Miss Emma called Darcy to his senses with a soft clearing of her throat. She stood next to the saddle and looked at him expectantly. Her head only just reached the top of the stirrup.

  Darcy handed her up and placed her gently on the saddle. It was large enough she could sit sidesaddle. She wiggled around, unable to keep still.

  “I feel so grand and tall. Like a queen.” She stroked Arion’s mane and got a whinny in reply.

  “I do believe he likes you,” Darcy said as he patted Arion’s flank and moved his hand up the reins, holding them firmly. He would take no risks with Miss Emma. His mount had always been steady and reliable, but he was a blood stallion and should not be trusted completely.

  “It is almost as if he knows that a young girl is riding him. Look how carefully he steps,” commented Miss Elizabeth after a few minutes of walking.

  “Do you ride, Miss Elizabeth?” asked Darcy.

  “I do not. Horses are a luxury in my family and I learned long ago to walk wherever I need to go. I dearly love to walk. I plan to walk through all the parks of London, as long as Jane and Emma are willing to come.”

  “I will walk with you, Lizzy. But, I would much rather ride,” Emma said as she grinned from ear to ear, her fingers entwined in Arion’s mane.

  Miss Elizabeth’s laugh sounded like the jingling of bells. So merry.

  “You have spoiled her, Mr. Darcy,” she accused, a smile still on her face.

  “She is very easy to spoil then. Much like my sister.”

  “I did not know you have a sister.”

  “Georgiana is fifteen. She currently resides with her governess in our house at Grosvenor Square. I hope to spend a good deal of time in her company while I am in town.”