The last words on the subject were an agreement to forego fretting the opinions of others, from his world or hers, and to focus exclusively on strengthening their relationship. Then, as Darcy collected the stack of letters, Elizabeth indicated the one from Georgiana.
“William, may I request permission to write directly to Miss Darcy?”
“That depends,” he said, feigning suspicion. “Are you wishing to establish a sisterly bond or ferret information on me that only a sister would know?”
“Both,” she promptly replied, the smile dancing on her lips at odds with the stern tone.
Darcy sighed resignedly. “It was bound to happen. Yes, you have my permission. God help me.”
* * *
Leaving Netherfield the next morning was harder than Darcy had anticipated. Especially trying was passing by the lane that led to Longbourn. If mounted on his horse instead of seated in a carriage, the impulse to turn in for another farewell—with perhaps another kiss or two—might have been impossible to resist.
Six weeks until we are married. God grant me the strength to remain a gentleman!
Arriving at Darcy House on Grosvenor Square by midmorning, Darcy crossed the threshold briskly. One arm remained inside the greatcoat actively being doffed when he requested an immediate audience with the townhouse’s butler and housekeeper. Mr. Travers and Mrs. Smyth filed into his office less than five minutes later and, after the briefest of greetings, were informed of his impending marriage. Other than Elizabeth’s name, and that she would be visiting London later in the month, no further details were given. For the present, it was not vital, and as servants, the facts were not warranted anyway. It sufficed that they understood the changes to come and began preparations of the townhouse accordingly.
Trusting they would pass the development on to the remaining staff, Darcy set to the task of writing notes to be delivered immediately.
First was to Mr. Daniels, requesting a preliminary meeting to discuss Elizabeth’s betrothal settlement as early as possible. The reply, written in the solicitor’s impeccable penmanship, slated him for the following morning.
The second short note was for his cousin Richard. Darcy said nothing about Elizabeth, only alerting him that he was in Town and anxious to visit. A swift response from the landlord informed that Colonel Fitzwilliam had not yet returned from his mission, but with the assurance that Mr. Darcy’s letter would be delivered forthwith into the colonel’s hand when he entered his building. Darcy could do nothing but wait and hope Richard was not delayed.
Next was a missive to Mr. Kennedy, one of several trusted contacts Darcy enlisted whenever he needed furnishings or unusual merchandise. It was far more efficient to pay an expert rather than troll shops or craftsmen’s studios himself. By the end of the day, an appointment was arranged for the morrow in the afternoon.
Lastly was another request for an appointment, this one with his tailor. Darcy owned an outrageous number of suits, a dozen of which were formal, constructed with quality fabrics, and superbly adequate for one’s wedding. Despite that fact, Darcy intended to honor his beloved Elizabeth by dressing in an ensemble specifically designed for the day she would willingly bind herself to him. She would always deserve the best, including the groom waiting for her at the holy altar.
Once those chores were done, the evening was his to enjoy in solitude. It was refreshing to dine in relaxed style in the parlor, coat and cravat removed, with only the faint murmurs of the servants and muffled street noises heard. Yet no matter how often he told himself how wonderful the tranquility was, his mind and heart traveled the miles to Longbourn.
How had her day passed? Had her mind drifted to musing of him? What activity was she engaged in at this moment? Was she breathing in relief to have a quiet night with her family?
Dare I hope she misses me and wishes I were there?
* * *
Until dinner, Lizzy had gone about her day with only occasional flittering thoughts of Mr. Darcy.
In the early morning hours, she had helped her mother with a few domestic chores, after which she had visited Mr. Beller in the barnyard. The cows and other animals were longtime friends, of a sort, who appreciated special treats and gentle rubs. Rather than walking during the warmest part of the day, Lizzy had chosen to write a letter to Miss Darcy. She enjoyed teasing her betrothed, but truthfully, she had no intention of asking Miss Darcy to reveal secrets about her brother. Lizzy preferred learning from him rather than a secondary source. Indeed, her only instigation was to strengthen the tenuous bond she and Georgiana established during their brief company at Pemberley. Therefore, her letter was short and consisted of scant more than expressing her happiness with Mr. Darcy and anticipatory joy in another sister.
It was while writing to Miss Darcy that Lizzy initially speculated on Mr. Darcy’s activities in London, a vague contemplation rapidly shrugged away. Then, as she had sealed the envelope, the name Darcy speared her, surprisingly, with a swift stab of sadness that required several seconds to recognize as missing him.
Honestly, Lizzy had not expected to mourn his absence greatly. After all, he had only been a serious part of her life for a week. It defied logic to pine for him a mere fifteen hours after last in his presence! She had shaken off the foolishness, the remaining hours before dinner serenely ticking by in mindlessly repairing the pile of garments with rips or frayed seams.
Further sentimental pangs had not intruded, even with the dining table space previously occupied by Mr. Darcy sitting empty. Conversation was abundant and gay throughout the meal, and on into the after-dinner socializing in the parlor. When a game of cards commenced, Lizzy opted to read instead. Curling into a chair near the window, she opened her novel to the marked page and glanced swiftly out the window to gauge the fading light.
William would love this sunset. I wonder if he is watching this same sunset in London.
Unexpectedly, melancholy was triggered and the tone of the evening instantly altered. Book forgotten in her lap, Lizzy watched the sun lower below the horizon. Mr. Darcy on her mind, she admired the dance of colors and shadows frolicking over the autumn-hued leaves, bare branches, and dying grasses. The cloudless sky was lit brilliantly with oranges and gold, gradually dimming until a mere sliver of yellow light skimmed along the edge where land met sky, to then be lost in darkness.
She sighed, the sound muted and forlorn.
Somehow the vision of him sitting in a window seat, or perhaps standing on the rear terrace of his townhouse, while observing the slipping sun was comforting and depressing. If not gazing at the sunset, what else might he be doing right this second? The vision of him relaxing in some fashion, alone in a silent room, reading or writing a letter, made her want to smile and frown simultaneously. Undoubtedly he is delirious with joy to be away from my noisy family! Yet is he missing me? Or is he too happy in his solitude to wish for even my disruptive presence?
She was incapable of deciphering the converging emotions. She loved Fitzwilliam Darcy unquestionably. The depth of her love and how it affected her were the weighty implications she hesitated to dwell upon.
Sleep provided oblivion from the chaotic emotions.
By morning of the second day without Mr. Darcy in Hertfordshire, a refreshed Lizzy woke determined not to mire in such ridiculously maudlin behavior. The weather was perfect for a long walk, Lizzy setting out immediately after breakfast with a small basket of food and her novel. Willow Bench sparked a multitude of Mr. Darcy associated reveries—more, in truth, than she expected based on two encounters out of the hundreds alone at the copse. Fortunately, the reminders of him were amusing and comforting rather than heart-rending, and the hours passing happily.
It was late in the afternoon when Lizzy approached Longbourn and spied the unfamiliar, plain black cabriolet parked on the drive. Any question as to the visitor’s identity disappeared the second Lizzy opened the door and heard Mr. Collins’s voice. Hoping Charlotte was with him, Lizzy hastened toward the parlor but stopped
abruptly when he mentioned Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Pausing, hidden in the corridor, she unabashedly eavesdropped.
“…Lady Catherine’s anger is intense. It is imperative that you understand, my dear Mrs. Bennet, that under the circumstances, from her perspective, Lady Catherine’s dismay is justified. Her heightened emotions are completely comprehendible. I cannot find it in my heart to fault such a great lady as my esteemed patroness, and would never dream of saying a single word of criticism, not that I do criticize, you understand. Miss Elizabeth is a respectable young lady, and you know my impressions were once favorable, if proved to be adverse to my personal requirements, those being superbly satisfied by my dear Mrs. Collins.”
“Precisely so, Mr. Collins. All is as it was meant to be. Charlotte for you, and my Lizzy for Mr. Darcy. I fail to see what Lady Catherine has to be angry about!”
“It is as you once said, Mrs. Bennet. Miss Elizabeth is headstrong, foolish, and, forgive me for repeating the words, not keen on what is best for her. It pains me to imply that Miss Elizabeth is an unfavorable choice for Mr. Darcy, an excellent gentleman I have no right to censure. Lady Catherine, however, judges the match most adamantly disadvantageous and unwise. As to this, I must admonish that as a woman of experience and superiority, her ladyship’s judgment should be given due consideration. Furthermore, Lady Catherine is rightfully distressed that Mr. Darcy forsook Miss de Bourgh rather than adhering to his promise—”
“A promise, Mr. Collins, that I have great doubt was sworn with all parties in agreement.” Charlotte’s demure interjection provided Mr. Collins time to audibly inhale, but the comment fed into the focus of his speech rather than diverted it.
“Indeed, I cannot warrant a gentleman as highly praised as Mr. Darcy would baldly repudiate an avowed oath. Nor could I ever believe that noble and honorable Lady Catherine claimed falsely. Logical deduction asserts that there is a misunderstanding or complexity to the arrangement that we of lesser rank are not privy to, with no one party completely at fault. Nevertheless, Lady Catherine is distraught for her daughter and of the opinion the arrangement between Mr. Darcy and Miss Elizabeth is violating a prior commitment.”
“This is all too much for my nerves! If there are impediments, Lizzy should break the engagement with Mr. Darcy immediately!”
Lizzy winced at the strain in her mother’s voice, even as her heart stopped and her anger flared.
“There is no need for that, I am sure, Mrs. Bennet—” Charlotte’s second calming attempt to downplay her husband’s assertions was drown by further sermonizing.
“For the sake of a harmonious parish, I must appreciate the perspective of my patroness. As Lady Catherine’s clergyman and a sworn officer of the Church, it is my duty to pacify, intervene, and advise. I have done so to the best of my abilities and with a clear conscience. Unfortunately, my connection with Hertfordshire and the Bennet family added to Lady Catherine’s distress, and my spiritual services were no longer sought. My decision to quit Hunsford temporarily was to ease Lady Catherine’s pain, not to cause discord amongst the family here, Mrs. Bennet. Nevertheless, Mrs. Collins and I agreed that the situation should be reported.”
“Well, it is quite a distressing report, Mr. Collins! I do wish Mr. Bennet had not chosen today to tend to business with Mr. Phillips. You must inform him immediately upon his return! I am sure he will know what is best to do.”
“But my good lady, I did alert Mr. Bennet! Some weeks past, in fact. Evidently he chose not to share my warnings with you or my cousin, the latter rushing into the precipitous closure with Mr. Darcy I expressly counseled against to avoid this very outcome! Now Lady Catherine is loudly proclaiming her opinions on the matter to anyone within proximity of Rosings Park, including the fact that she does not sanction the marriage, her permission expressly denied. Such woeful tidings are not auspicious for a happy union, I fear.”
“Oh dear! Oh dear, oh dear…” Mrs. Bennet moaned in between sniffles.
Lizzy had heard enough. Determined to put an end to Mr. Collins’s tirade, she moved toward the portal, but her steps slowed when Charlotte spoke, more forcefully this time.
“Do not be troubled, Mrs. Bennet. While I agree Lady Catherine’s response to Lizzy’s excellent news should be conveyed, I have a differing outlook than my fine husband. These personal, family matters are beyond the scope of our understanding. We are outsiders and only privy to one perspective. Undoubtedly Mr. Darcy’s perspective is vastly different, that apparent by his actions. He is an honorable gentleman with a reputation for honesty and integrity, with nary a whiff of scandal or misbehavior, so I see no reason to distrust his relationship with Lizzy.”
Not giving Mr. Collins a chance to rebut, or her mother an opportunity to launch into fresh hysterics, Lizzy spoke loudly as she crossed the threshold. “Thank you, Mrs. Collins. It is a relief to finally hear a sensible statement uttered within the walls of this room. Based on the ridiculous speculations, blatant falsehoods, and dramatic declarations I have overheard in the past ten minutes, I was beginning to lose hope that wisdom existed in Longbourn.”
Mr. Collins—who was staring at his wife in what appeared to Lizzy as stunned amazement that she would dare to verbally disagree with him in front of others—lifted his gaze to Lizzy when she entered the room. Piercing him directly with eyes hard and condemning, Lizzy watched his astoundment mix with confusion and embarrassment. As she knew, Mr. Collins prided himself on his ability to dominate a conversation, humble phrases passing his lips even as he exalted his perceived superior intelligence. Most of the time, Lizzy was amused by him. Not so when he ignored her refusal of his marriage proposal, and definitely not at the present.
“It would behoove you, Mr. Collins, to hearken to Charlotte’s reminder. Despite what Lady Catherine has shared with her rector, there is indeed more to the issue than her biased opinion and skewed facts. No”—she held up her hand when Collins opened his mouth—“I am not going to say more. You have done your duty, Mr. Collins, in giving advice and warning. I do appreciate this in the spirit intended, and thank you.” Never hurts to be magnanimous, she thought, hiding the cringe inside. “However, now you must heed my advice and warning: exonerate yourself from being the watchdog over my relationship with Mr. Darcy.”
“But, Cousin, how can I do that when it is my obligation to attend to the needs of my flock, especially Lady Catherine!”
“I daresay you have done an admirable job for your flock and Lady Catherine, Mr. Collins, and will continue to do so. Just not in regards to the matter of Mr. Darcy and me. We are to be married. There is nothing else to be said, and I refuse further discourse, other than to stress what Mr. Bennet wrote in his letter. You did receive it, yes?”
“We did,” Charlotte answered when Mr. Collins flushed and looked down at his shoes.
“Then, as my father suggested, console your patroness as best you can, sir, but without offending Mr. Darcy in the process. That would be most unwise.”
Saying nothing more to Mr. Collins, Lizzy turned to Charlotte. Smiling brightly, she grasped her friend’s hands. “Come walk in the garden with me, Charlotte. The autumn flowers are blooming, and we extended past the row of lilacs since last you were here.” Chatting warmly, Lizzy led Charlotte out the door in seconds, neither glancing backward.
Lizzy prattled gaily as they walked away from the house. Perfectly content to leave the subject of her engagement alone, she did smile when Charlotte interjected with her congratulations.
“Lizzy, you must know how delighted I am for you and Mr. Darcy. I think it is wonderful news, if surprising.”
“And here I thought you, of all people, would be the least surprised! I do believe you were the only person who suspected Mr. Darcy held affection for me.”
“I did, for a short time. But you felt sure that it could not be, that he disliked you even. Then, when nothing came of it while you visited us in the spring, I was sure I had been mistaken.”
“Being mistaken was an epidemic l
ast spring,” Lizzy admitted, laughing halfheartedly.
Charlotte’s pace slowed, her eyes on the ground. “Lizzy, I owe you an apology.”
“Nonsense, Charlotte. You are not responsible for Mr. Collins’s interference or attitude. In fact, I am in your debt for speaking up just now. I fear Mama was near to fainting!”
“I only spoke the truth as I see it, Lizzy. Yet that is not what I refer to. Regrettably, if not for me, Mr. Collins may never have gotten involved in this matter at all.”
Lizzy quizzically knit her brows. “Whatever do you mean?”
Charlotte sat on a nearby bench and patted the empty space beside. “One night, during those weeks when Mr. Darcy called at the parsonage so frequently,” Charlotte explained, “I mentioned the possibility of Mr. Darcy being in love with you to Mr. Collins. He was quite distressed by the idea, which greatly surprised me. I told him you laughed at the notion, convinced that Mr. Darcy disapproved of you far too much to be partial. This seemed to satisfy him, and we spoke no more. Nor did I speak of it with you, Lizzy.” She squeezed Lizzy’s hand, her smile warm. “I feared pressing the idea might endanger you by raising expectations, if indeed your feelings began to change toward Mr. Darcy, ending in disappointment if you were correct in his disliking you.”
Charlotte shook her head, Lizzy detecting confusion within her friend’s eyes. “Honestly, the behavior of you both puzzled me tremendously, more so when the gentleman left so abruptly, leaving you clearly depressed. Mr. Collins noted your distraction and wondered if Mr. Darcy’s departure contributed. The truth is, Lizzy, I wondered the same! With nothing substantial, Mr. Collins and I said scant more about it.
“Until, that is, last month when my mother wrote of Jane’s engagement to Mr. Bingley. She wrote that Mr. Darcy was again in the area, paying particular attention to you, and presumed a proposal was eminent. It was then, unbeknownst to me until afterward, that Mr. Collins reported to Lady Catherine. I am still unsure precisely what transpired afterward, but am aware she took action in a most unpleasant manner and continues to be furious. The blame rests on my shoulders for discussing with Mr. Collins in the first place. Can you ever forgive me?”
Darcy & Elizabeth: A Season of Courtship (Darcy Saga Prequel Duo) Page 20