by Jann Rowland
Elizabeth found herself amused that Mr. Darcy referred to their connection, though they still had not known each other for long. “What can she have to say about that?”
“As you know,” said Mr. Darcy, catching her irony and smiling, “Lady Catherine intends me for her daughter, and all my arguments to the contrary do little to dissuade her. Mr. Collins will relay his recent observations concerning our activities together to my aunt with relish, perhaps even with embellishment. While she would ignore this account of Miss Bingley, the same is not true of you.”
“You believe she will come to Longbourn to confront me.”
“It is inevitable,” replied Mr. Darcy.
“And what do you think she will say?”
“No doubt the same thing she says at every gathering of our family.” The grimace Mr. Darcy made suggested he had heard the arguments several times over and was annoyed by them. “It was an agreement with my mother, discussed while Anne and I were in our cradles, intended from birth, formed for each other, etc. It is well known in the family that her purpose is to consolidate the family’s wealth and create a dynasty of greater power and influence. She may also have her eye on a title, though that is nothing more than speculation.”
“Lord Darcy, Earl of Derbyshire?” teased Elizabeth.
Mr. Darcy’s lips contorted into a lopsided grin. “I doubt even Lady Catherine believes it likely we can aspire to so lofty a title. But even a barony would be a feather in her cap. What need have I for a title? The Darcy family has owned our land for centuries and have never cared much for politics or titles. I am content to remain Mr. Darcy, if you please.”
“Then I commend you, sir,” replied Elizabeth, “for many men would be eager to do whatever it took to ensure they were ennobled.”
The frown with which the gentleman regarded that statement informed her of his opinion if their conversation had not already done so. “That kind of man is the last who should receive titles, for they care for nothing but themselves.”
“That is a statement with which I cannot agree more.”
Mr. Darcy nodded. “Then we must prepare for the possibility of her coming. If you will wait for my return, I shall speak to your father to warn him.”
“I believe he is in his study,” replied Elizabeth.
The gentleman thanked her, and with a few more words, he turned and departed, his long, swift strides carrying him around the corner to the front entrance of the house. Again, the thought of how good a man Mr. Darcy was struck Elizabeth. Protecting her—a woman he had only met less than two weeks before—was a matter he considered to be his duty. Had it been Mr. Collins in his stead, he would agree with everything his patroness said and join in the chorus of censure against her. Mr. Darcy had more reason to do so because of his connection with the lady, yet it was the furthest from his mind.
“Have you driven Mr. Darcy away?”
Pulled from her thoughts, Elizabeth regarded Miss Bingley, noting the woman’s sneer and the belligerence of her stance. Hiding beneath the bravado, however, was the woman’s uncertainty, and in an instant, Elizabeth realized what it must look like. A mischievous thought came to her mind
“He has gone to speak to my father, Miss Bingley.”
Eyes narrowed Miss Bingley hissed: “You lie! Mr. Darcy would never propose to the likes of you!”
“Who said anything of a proposal?” replied Elizabeth, feigning confusion. “There was a matter of some importance Mr. Darcy wished to discuss; that is all. I did not say he approached my father because of a proposal. I have not known Mr. Darcy long enough for that.”
If Elizabeth thought Miss Bingley’s eyes were narrowed before, now they were mere slits. Accompanied by the sneer of contempt she wore, it made her appear ugly, a virago of a woman intent upon having her own way.
“He never will, you know.”
“Never will what?”
Miss Bingley growled her impatience. “Mr. Darcy will never propose to you. The reputation of the family name means too much to him to allow such a grievous lapse of judgment.”
“And you presume I wish for a proposal?”
“Do you not?” Miss Bingley huffed with annoyance. “Every young lady in society wishes to secure Mr. Darcy’s proposal.”
“Including you, I presume.”
“If he chooses me, I would be honored,” was Miss Bingley’s superior reply. “As I have been educated in all the finest seminaries and possess all the appropriate accomplishments, I would do him credit if he were to choose me for his wife.”
“As would I be honored if Mr. Darcy proposed to me, Miss Bingley,” retorted Elizabeth. “But that is not at issue. What is at issue is that I have not known Mr. Darcy long, and to suspect a proposal is imminent is premature.”
“You wish me to believe you do not wish for a proposal.” The disbelief in Miss Bingley’s voice oozed from her, battering at Elizabeth like a ram.
“I did not say that,” replied Elizabeth. “I said nothing more than that I have not known the gentleman long enough to know if I wish for a proposal from him.”
“Everyone wishes for it!”
“As we have already established, I am not like everyone. Should Mr. Darcy propose now, I would be obliged to refuse him, for I do not know him.”
“Then you are a fool,” sneered Miss Bingley.
“It is not I who have pursued the gentleman without hope of his returning interest,” retorted Elizabeth. “Who between us is the fool?”
“How dare you!” snarled Miss Bingley.
Weary of the conversation, Elizabeth attempted a conciliatory tack. “I have no intention to insult or offend you. But how long have you known Mr. Darcy? Two or three years, I understand? In all that time, has Mr. Darcy given you any hint of interest? Has he looked on you with the eyes of a man who admires a woman? Or has he kept his distance?
“You may do as you like, and I shall not gainsay you. But I would have you consider this: if Mr. Darcy meant to propose to you, do you not think he would have by now? Contrast that with his behavior toward me. Has he shown even a fraction of interest in you that he has in me?”
“Mr. Darcy will never offer for you.”
Though Elizabeth knew the woman meant to show the conviction of her belief, it was more a hollow statement. There was no way of knowing her thoughts, but at the very least, Elizabeth thought she was taken aback.
“I do not know that he will, nor have I stated any belief in it. Neither can you say he will not. If you look at how he is behaving toward each of us, I think you will know which of us is more likely. You will if you are honest with yourself.”
Having said that much, Elizabeth turned and strode away from Miss Bingley, and to her relief, the woman did not follow her. Mr. Darcy soon emerged from the house, approached Elizabeth and fixed her with a smile. At the same time, he noted Miss Bingley standing by herself, seeing nothing.
“Has something happened?” asked he, turning a frown on the other woman.
“Nothing more than a disagreement, Mr. Darcy.”
It was Elizabeth’s opinion that he would pursue the matter for a moment. Whatever he meant to say remained unsaid, however, for he shook his head and turned his attention to their recent conversation.
“I have spoken to your father, and he agrees with me. If Lady Catherine appears, he will send for me at once. We shall not allow you to speak in private with her.”
“Very well,” replied Elizabeth. “I will note that I am no coward who cannot face your aunt’s displeasure, but I will confess to some relief.”
Mr. Darcy grinned. “I should never have thought it of you, Miss Elizabeth. But this is for the best, for my aunt can be abrasive when she puts her mind to it.”
The arrival of others interrupted further conversation, for several men wearing red coats came around the house and entered the lawn, among them Mr. Wickham. Following a short distance behind came Charlotte, escorted by Colonel Fitzwilliam. Eager to greet her friend, Elizabeth shot a glance at
Mr. Darcy, which he understood as an invitation to follow her, and stepped forward with a grin.
“Charlotte!” exclaimed Elizabeth, stepping into her friend’s embrace. “Why, if I did not know you better, I might suspect you of being enamored with these fellows in red. To see you arriving in their midst is a surprise, indeed!”
Charlotte grinned. “I am not Maria, Lizzy. I met these fine gentlemen at the juncture leading to my father’s estate, and they offered to escort me here when they discovered our purpose was the same.”
“Then I thank you for conveying my friend here, Colonel Fitzwilliam,” said Elizabeth with an impish smile. “One can never know when she might be set upon by brigands on the dangerous stretch of road between Lucas Lodge and Longbourn.”
The colonel guffawed, accompanied by Charlotte’s playful swat. “It was no trouble, Miss Elizabeth. We men of the army are well accustomed to braving the dangers of bandit-infested roads.”
“There is one who does not appreciate your coming,” said Charlotte, gesturing toward the lawn.
Unnoticed in her eagerness to meet Charlotte, Mr. Wickham had taken himself to Miss Bingley’s side and was now speaking with her, a wide smile for whatever she was saying to him. Charlotte’s observation was correct, given Miss Bingley’s annoyed look at the officer, but there was also something different about her. Maybe Mr. Collins was no longer present to bedevil her, leaving her with naught but one unwanted suitor. Mr. Darcy, however, posed another possibility.
“It seems Miss Bingley better tolerates Wickham’s presence. Perhaps she has decided her favor for another man may induce me to jealousy, surprising, considering my lack of interest in Mr. Collins’s clumsy attempts at courtship.”
Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam exchanged looks while Elizabeth snickered her amusement. Charlotte, however, turned an interested look on the gentlemen.
“This is a tale I had not heard, though I suppose I should not be surprised.” Charlotte paused and looked about. “Where is the inestimable Mr. Collins? Can I assume he has proposed and has slunk away with his tail between his legs?”
“That is a tale which may take both of us to relate,” replied Elizabeth, her laughter growing at the thought.
Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth disseminated the story, though Elizabeth could tell her rendition was more willingly given than Mr. Darcy’s. When they had completed it, both Colonel Fitzwilliam and Charlotte were in stitches. A surreptitious glance at the woman in question informed Elizabeth that though she was throwing them glances from time to time, Mr. Wickham had her attention, limiting her knowledge of their subject of conversation.
“That Mr. Collins is a wonder,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam as he guffawed at the tale. “Aunt Catherine has outdone herself with him, for she could not have found a more ridiculous toad had she searched the length and breadth of England!”
Then he sobered and turned to Mr. Darcy. “Can I assume you expect a visit from Lady Catherine?”
Mr. Darcy grimaced and nodded. “Some of the comments Collins made before he departed all but assure it.”
The speculative look Colonel Fitzwilliam directed to her suggested to Elizabeth that he knew something of their closeness and alerted Charlotte to the notion that something may be afoot. The colonel eschewed any teasing, however, and said nothing more than:
“If you require my assistance, Darcy, you need only ask.
“Thank you, Cousin.” Then Mr. Darcy glanced back at Wickham. “What of our friend Wickham?”
Colonel Fitzwilliam shrugged. “His behavior does not differ from what it was a few days ago. Wickham little likes his position at present, I warrant, but he has given me no reason to reprimand him. He is not the perfect officer, but he is adequate.”
Mr. Darcy nodded and allowed the subject to drop. The four stood and spoke together for some time after, their topics concerning the regiment, Miss Bingley, Mr. Wickham, among other subjects of interest to them all. It was, Elizabeth reflected, an excellent way to spend a morning in the company of friends. All was harmony at present, and she could not be happier.
Chapter XIX
One benefit to the uncertainty surrounding Lady Catherine’s expected appearance was the presence of Mr. Darcy at Longbourn. While Elizabeth could not attest to her family’s feelings on the matter—no one protested the gentleman’s presence—the opportunity to be in his company, to speak of various subjects with the goal of coming to know him was heaven sent. The time she spent with him was not extensive, being only two days, but it was two days where the gentleman did not depart after thirty minutes, and where others, such as Miss Bingley, were not present to interfere. The second day, even Georgiana did not accompany him.
“Where is your sister, Mr. Darcy?” asked Elizabeth when the man entered the room and greeted them.
The grin which suffused his countenance spoke of true hilarity, the reason for which soon became apparent. “Georgiana decided it was best to stay at Netherfield today. Though I have judged my presence here necessary, it has taken me from my hosts, which has left Miss Bingley feeling neglected. In the interest of being an attentive guest, Georgiana is entertaining her today.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Then you must give your sister my regards and inform her of my respect for her stamina.”
A snort of amusement reached Elizabeth’s ears, for it seemed Mr. Bingley, who had accompanied his friend that day, had overheard her. The gentleman, however, was aware of his sister’s difficult nature, for he grinned at Elizabeth and turned back to Jane. Within moments, Mr. Bingley suggested a walk out of doors, and when Elizabeth and Jane accepted, they donned their outerwear and followed the gentlemen outside.
“What shall we discuss today, Mr. Darcy?” asked Elizabeth, favoring the gentleman with a bright glance when they attained the path outside Longbourn. Jane and Mr. Bingley had already lagged behind.
“I believe you will find I will discuss whatever you wish, Miss Elizabeth,” replied Mr. Darcy. He looked about and added: “Is this the path to the famous Oakham Mount, of which you have spoken several times?”
“No, it is not,” said Elizabeth, grinning at the gentleman. “That walk is too far for Jane. I must own to some disappointment, however, for did you not claim you would direct your horse thither at the first opportunity?”
“Yes, I did. The fact is, however, that I have ridden little of late. Something has prevented it, though I will own I am not complaining, for though I love to ride, the company with which I have been blessed of late is much better than that of my horse.”
Elizabeth caught his meaning and to refrain from blushing, she turned to the gentleman and fixed him with a bold look. “Then I would encourage you to go there when you have the chance, for it is well worth it.”
“I shall do so.”
They spent some moments speaking of Derbyshire and the beauties of Mr. Darcy’s distant home, and Elizabeth shared some of what she knew of Hertfordshire. After a time, the conversation turned to other locations, though Mr. Darcy carried the burden, as he had traveled far more than Elizabeth.
“The woods of my aunt’s estate in Kent,” Mr. Darcy was saying, “are extensive. Kent and Hertfordshire are far more tamed than Derbyshire, the land far less marred by rocks and valleys.”
“But Kent is the breadbasket of England.”
“That is true,” agreed Mr. Darcy. “What my aunt’s estate has in abundance it lacks in beauty, at least in my opinion. Were you ever to come to Derbyshire and my estate, I could show you a dozen locations that would astonish you for their beauties, and these are all within a few hours of my home. Kent is pretty, I will grant you, but the land is tame, flat, and without character.”
“But Derbyshire must be a more difficult place to own an estate.”
“That much is true,” agreed Mr. Darcy. “In Derbyshire, the crops we grow are hardier, the soil, not as rich. Estates there tend to be more diversified. At Pemberley, we grow several different crops, we have sheep and cattle, fell timber for sale, and ther
e is a small mine on the northwestern corner of my estate.”
“Should one of these ventures produce less than you hope,” observed Elizabeth, “the rest can keep you solvent.”
Mr. Darcy nodded with obvious approval. “As has happened many times in the history of my family. It is one of the secrets of our longevity.”
Conversation then turned to their families, Elizabeth sharing tales of her sisters, her aunts and uncles, noting that there were few Bennets left. Mr. Darcy’s family was even smaller, with only Georgiana and himself. He also spoke of his extended family, of his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam’s brothers and sisters, and his aunt and uncle, the Earl of Matlock. Through it, Elizabeth marveled that this man was not puffed up in pride and conceit, for though he was not a peer himself, he was descended from one and had every right to be proud.
“My uncle is the furthest from a self-important noble you could find,” said Mr. Darcy when Elizabeth made some slight comment about his family. “The earl was a younger son, and, much like my cousin, served in the army himself. He has always said it taught him to esteem nobility in man that was not bestowed upon them at birth. He is quite the spectacle in society, for many cannot understand his views and consider him eccentric.”
“I can well imagine it!” said Elizabeth with a laugh. “Then what of Lady Catherine? She is not like your uncle at all?”
Mr. Darcy sighed. “Few siblings have been less alike than my mother and uncle on one side, and Lady Catherine on the other. I should not denigrate her, for she is my mother’s sister, and in intelligence, understanding, diligence, and prudence, she is not deficient. But she has received the principal part of the pride in the family—pride for the family, pride for our position, and an interest in protecting that position.”
“Then I suppose I shall need to win her over when she comes,” said Elizabeth. “Besides, we are not engaged, so at present, you have not contravened her directives.”