Mrs Collins' Lover

by Bronwen Chisholm

  Darcy raised his head and looked at his valet as Fitz’s words filled his thoughts. “Of course, Nelson.” He stood and looked at the hat in his hands. “I fear it is now beyond repair,” he said as he held it out.

  “No matter, sir. We shall send to London for another.” Nelson stood to one side and waited for Darcy to enter the dressing room before him.

  “Please send word to my aunt that I have already broken my fast and am working. I will go to the study once I am dressed properly.”

  “Have you eaten, sir?” A hint of worry entered the servant’s voice causing Darcy to raise his head.

  “No, but I am certain the cook will not mind sending a tray of coffee and toast to the study.” He attempted a smile but turned instead and began removing his coat.

  “Allow me, sir.” The valet had removed the more casual clothing and replaced them with appropriate garments in no time.

  “Thank you, Nelson.” Darcy grasped the servant’s hand and shook it. “I do not say it enough.”

  Though he was startled at first, Nelson returned the shake and gave Darcy a slight bow. “It is an honour to be in your service, sir. Everyone at Pemberley and Darcy House agrees. You are a good man, sir, if I might say so.”

  Darcy was too moved to reply and instead nodded his head and left the room. When he entered the study, he saw Kite approaching with a tray. It always amazed him how quickly word spread in well run homes. He spent the remainder of the day at work. No one disturbed him, which was surprising, but he assumed Fitz was acting as a bulwark.

  When the hall clock chimed three, he sat back and looked out the window. Since arriving at Rosings he had been dragged to hell repeatedly and completed the work of a week in two or three days. Until now, his focus had been on leaving Rosings, but what then? He had one mission, to confess to Bingley; but after that? How could he return to his normal life when it was no longer what he desired?

  He pushed out of his chair and stretched, hearing joints pop and feeling muscles loosen. He contemplated a brandy but decided against it. He no longer desired the temporary numbness it provided.

  Honour shall uphold the humble in spirit.

  Darcy took a seat by the hearth and stared at the few coals remaining. As the day had warmed, the fire was no longer needed. By the time the day turned cool, he would no longer be using the study and it would remain as it was until morning when the maid would rekindle it for his use that day. When was the last time he thought of the fire; how it came to be just when he required it without him raising a finger? There were so many simple things he took for granted; things others fought to possess.

  He reflected upon his life, realizing he had been a selfish being, in practice, though not in principle. His parents had taught him right, but not to correct his temper. He was given good principles, but left to follow them in pride and conceit. Being an only son, for most of his life an only child, he had been spoilt by his parents and encouraged, almost taught, to be selfish and overbearing; to care for none beyond his own family circle; to think meanly of the rest of the world; to wish at least to think meanly of their sense of worth compared to his own.

  Had he proposed to Elizabeth in Hertfordshire and she refused him, he could not imagine what his response would have been. He would have come without a doubt of his reception and, seeing himself so plainly now, he would have pointed out every advantage he could provide her. He might have even mentioned he was saving her from a fate worse than death in marrying Collins. A moan escaped his lips and he leaned forward running his fingers through his hair as he realized how insufficient he was to please a woman worthy of being pleased.

  “Cousin?”

  Darcy jumped to his feet and held out his hand. “Anne, I did not realize you were here.”

  She stepped forward and squeezed his hand, then sat in the chair opposite his. “Fitzwilliam told me what occurred to-day.”

  “How could I have been so foolish?” Darcy dropped into his seat and rubbed his forehead. An ache was beginning that he doubted would pass soon. “Have I always been such, Anne? Arrogant, proud, believing myself infallible.”

  His cousin laid a finger upon her lips as she considered his question. It took much longer than he liked, but he forced himself to remain still and quiet while she deliberated.

  “I believe your descent began after your first year at university. The other students, and some of the professors if I am not mistaken, deferred to you because of your status and you came to expect it. When you were in London, the ladies did nothing to discourage your high opinion of yourself. Even Uncle Darcy, though he was a good man, did nothing to curb your pride.”

  “And now what am I to do?”

  Anne sighed. “I cannot say. Mother is correct, Darcy, you require an heir for Pemberley.”

  “Please do not urge me to seek a wife. All efforts would be futile as there is none who compares to her. Perhaps one day, but now it would be an injustice to any woman.”

  She nodded. “You are correct, of course. That is the problem, is it not? You are proud of your judgement because you are rarely wrong. Of course, you never considered that love is not commanded by the same rules as everything else in this world. Love is God’s gift and man only corrupts it.”

  Anne stood and crossed to his side, waiting for him to open his eyes and look at her. When he did, she ran a hand along his cheek. “You should return to your rooms, Darcy. I will tell Mother you were feeling unwell and retired early, and I will send a sleeping powder to your man. You require rest.”

  Darcy clasped her hand, turning it over to place a kiss upon the back. “You will be a great Mistress of Rosings, Anne. You are considerate and loving.”

  She squeezed his hand and turned to leave. When he did not follow, she stopped and stared at him. “I am in earnest, Darcy. You are finished for to-day so return to your rooms. Do not fall asleep in a chair again or I will have the footmen carry you upstairs.”

  Realizing she would not leave until he did, Darcy pulled himself from his chair and followed her from the room. The powders were delivered as he finished bathing and he was soon in his bed, feeling the effects of the medicine as he sank into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  *CHAPTER NINE*

  Light, so bright he could see it behind closed eyes, flooded the room. Darcy pulled the counterpane over his face and rolled away from the source.

  “Come, Darcy!” Fitz cried as he dropped onto the side of the bed. “You have had your night of self-pity. It is time to rise and attack the new day.”

  The Colonel began shaking Darcy’s arm and then pulled at the covers. Darcy gripped them tighter and rolled further away.

  “We are no longer children, Fitz; leave me be.”

  “Truly? For it is my opinion you are behaving like a wounded schoolboy.”

  The tugging stopped but the man did not leave. Reluctantly, Darcy lowered the counterpane and blinked at his cousin. “Will you at least close the curtains until my eyes adjust?”

  Fitz did as asked and returned to stand beside the bed, hands on his hips as he stared down at his cousin. “I believe you require some time away from Rosings. I have arranged a visit to a friend.”

  “A friend?” Darcy eyed him suspiciously. “I am in no humour for one of your … female friends, Fitz.”

  “No, I have learned not to suggest such a thing.” He shook his head as he used one fingernail to remove the dirt from under another. “However, there is a widow here; her husband was under my command, and I must pay my respects.” He proceeded to pick at one nail after another. “I have always found her to be a wise woman. She was one of a few ladies who followed the drum and assisted the surgeons. I believe some time in her presence might help clear your mind.”

  Darcy sighed. “When do you propose to go?”

  “At the normal visiting time, though you have slept late so you best rise and prepare.” The Colonel crossed the room and opened the dressing room door. “He is awake, Nelson, no need to be quiet.”

  Fit
z turned back into the room, then paused by the hallway door. “Lady Catherine thinks you are still ill, so I suggest leaving by way of the back stairs. I will meet you at the stables.”

  The Colonel left and Darcy sat up in bed. After roughly rubbing his hands over his face, he threw back the covers and stood. Though Fitz had pulled the curtains, light still spilled across the floor and Darcy felt its warmth on his bare feet. He took a step closer to look out at the perfectly manicured gardens and wondered if Elizabeth had missed him that morning. He gave a quick shake of his head, hoping to clear his mind of her, and entered the dressing room to begin his day.

  Nelson had a plate of fruit on the table and Darcy ate it all before he was fully dressed. He had been unable to touch the tray Anne sent up the night before, but this morning his appetite was returned in force. His body seemed to know what it needed even if his mind and heart were still adrift.

  Once Nelson deemed him ready to be seen by the outside world, Darcy followed Fitz’s advice and took the back stairs and on to the stables. His horse awaited him, and Darcy took a few extra minutes to feed him bits of apple he had appropriated from the kitchen on his way through. He thanked the groom and then mounted the animal to find his cousin staring at him strangely.

  Fitz led the way, taking a round-a-bout path that avoided being seen from Rosings’ drawing-room windows. The air held that touch of spring, an underlying warmth though it was still cool on their cheeks, as they spurred their horses faster. A full gallop raised their spirits and the men were in a somewhat improved humour when they arrived at their destination. They dismounted in front of what had once been a fine home and Fitz looked about.

  “I thought Genie hired a lad to tend the horses and do odd jobs. I wonder where he might be.”

  Darcy patted his mount’s neck. “Should we tie the horses to a tree?”

  The front door opened, and a slim woman stepped onto the porch. “Fitzwilliam! I had not expected you to-day.”

  “I thought to introduce you to my cousin, Genie. Where is the boy you hired to care for the horses?”

  “Chopping wood. His job is not to wait for you to arrive each day, sir.” The lady laughed. “Walk them around to the stables and he will take them from there.” She turned and re-entered the house.

  Darcy eyed his cousin suspiciously as he followed him around the side of the house. “What is your relationship with this woman, Fitz?”

  “I have told you, Darcy. Her husband served under me and she has cared for many injured soldiers. She is a good woman. She lives here with her mother, the Widow Abernathy.”

  “Abernathy? Is that not the lady our aunt grumbles over?”

  “Is there anyone with whom Lady Catherine does not find fault?”

  A boy of about fourteen ran across the yard as they approached an old structure which might have once housed horses. There appeared to be one or two stalls which were empty but for some fresh straw. From somewhere, the lad brought two blankets and draped them over a stall door, then came to take the horses’ reins.

  “As I showed you,” Fitz said, and the boy nodded.

  Darcy hesitated, but his cousin grasped his shoulder and steered him toward the house. The kitchen door opened as they approached and the woman from the front of the house stepped outside. She was not a handsome woman, but her smile was welcoming.

  “Mother has just requested her tea. I will announce you while it steeps.”

  She turned and led the way through the modest kitchen. An older woman stood beside the stove, cutting up vegetables and dropping them into a pot while a small girl sat in a nearby corner eyeing the gentlemen curiously. The normal smells of spices and roasted meat filled the air, causing Darcy’s mouth to water. He hoped there would be more than tea on the tray when it arrived.

  The party travelled up the narrow servants’ stairs until they reached the second floor. Darcy was surprised they had not been taken to a drawing room on the floor below. After passing several closed doors, they came within sight of the front stairs and stopped before the entrance to the master suite. Genie opened the door and motioned for them to follow.

  “Mother is finding it difficult to hear, so be not alarmed if I speak louder than normally appropriate.”

  “Have no fear,” Fitz chuckled. “Though he would never admit it, my father is having the same difficulty.”

  She smiled politely but did not reply as she approached a frail old woman sitting in a wheeled chair near the window. “Mother,” she called in a louder voice. “The Colonel has come to visit and brought a gentleman with him.”

  Darcy had never seen the Widow Abernathy before, but he had heard Lady Catherine’s complaints against the woman often enough. In truth, her only fault, as far as he could discern, was to disagree with his aunt quite vocally. He was surprised, therefore, by her petite form and sickly demeanour.

  “Mrs. Abernathy.” Fitz stepped forward and bowed. “May I have the pleasure of presenting my cousin, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire.” The Colonel turned back toward Darcy. “Mrs. Abernathy and her daughter, Mrs. Eugenia Martin.”

  Darcy bowed and Mrs. Martin curtseyed. Mrs. Abernathy set back in her seat as her eyes wandered over his person from head to toe and returned.

  “So, you are the favoured nephew. I have heard much of you over the years from her ladyship. Are you come to finally wed Anne?”

  “Mother,” Mrs. Martin began to reprimand, but the older woman waved her away.

  “I must know if my defence of him all these years has been in vain. Are you submitting to that harpy’s wishes, young man?”

  Unable to suppress his humour, Darcy chuckled as he assured her that he had not and had no intention of doing so. The woman’s eyes sparkled, and she motioned him toward the seat nearest hers.

  “See, I was right. Anne is a treasure, do not think otherwise, but she is not strong enough to be the wife of a great man. Catherine has protected her for so many years, and now expects the child to transform into something nearer her own personality, but that will not happen.” She turned toward the door and smiled. “Ah, here is the tea.”

  A maid Darcy had not seen previously entered the room carrying a tray and set it on the table before Mrs. Martin, who began fixing cups for the Colonel and her mother. She then turned to Darcy and asked his preferences. He was suddenly reminded how Elizabeth had known how he liked his tea when they had visited the parsonage and was momentarily struck dumb. His cousin quickly supplied an answer for their hostess and Darcy thanked her when he accepted the cup, hoping she did not notice the thickness in his voice.

  As Fitz and Genie fell into a hushed friendly conversation, Darcy turned his attention back to the older woman. “How do you know Lady Catherine?”

  “Why we grew up together. It was I who introduced her to Sir Lewis.”

  “Really?” Darcy was suddenly very intrigued by the woman. “I do not believe I have ever heard this tale.”

  Her thin shoulders shook with laughter which only rumbled in her chest. “I am certain you have not. Your aunt would not like it to be remembered, but as we age, we have only our memories to keep us company. I am quite fond of mine.” A whimsical smile travelled over her features and Darcy thought she had forgotten his presence until she began speaking once more. “Catherine’s father and brother were travelling to the continent. Her mother had passed shortly after your mother’s birth as I am certain you are well aware. The girls were not to accompany the men (who knows what trouble they intended to explore whilst there), but Catherine had no desire to stay with relatives as her sister planned to do.”

  She sipped her tea and leaned back in her seat. A mischievous gleam entered her eye. “Catherine and I made our curtseys the same year. I married at the end of the season, but she was determined not to settle for an untitled gentleman or one in need of her dowry. She was now one and twenty and your mother was to come out the following season. Perhaps Catherine began to feel the pressure to wed. She had heard of Rosings Park and t
he expanse of its holdings and wrote to me, asking if she could come visit while the Earl and Viscount were away. Knowing her as I do, I suspected she had an ulterior motive, but I agreed. If nothing more, I knew it would be an interesting visit.”

  Darcy’s brows rose as he contemplated time spent with his aunt being anything more than fatiguing.

  “I see your surprise. I suppose it is to be expected. Most would presume Lady Catherine and myself to be friends at one time, but her ladyship and I have never been close confidants; I am far too outspoken for her taste. Your aunt does not admire qualities in others that she herself possesses.” She finished her tea and handed him the cup but shook her head when he offered to refill it and instead folded her hands in her lap. “Sir Lewis and my husband were close friends. Did you know he was a widower?”

  Darcy was only able to shake his head as he had just taken a swallow of tea. The lady did not seem to notice.

  “I have been told his first wife was a dear woman and the man still mourned her after three years. Catherine had set her cap for him, even though he rarely looked her way. With the time of your grandfather and uncle’s return quickly approaching, she seemed to become desperate. To this day I am uncertain how she arranged it, but she and Sir Lewis were found in a compromising situation and forced to wed to avoid scandal. The whole matter was finished and done with before the Earl returned to English soil.”

  “I have few memories of Sir Lewis, but they are all happy.”

  “I am certain they were. He was a pleasant man who doted on children. He had none from his first marriage and was pleased when Anne was born. She and Genie played together as children. You joined them during your visits.”

  Darcy turned to look at the woman sitting by his cousin. “Did I?”

  “Oh, you were quite young; I doubt you remember. It was about that time Catherine discovered my husband and I had advised Sir Lewis not to marry her. Her ladyship refused us entry to Rosings and demanded her husband cut ties with us.” She shook her head as she looked about. “Sir Lewis died before any reconciliation took place between our families. When Catherine took over the ledgers, she found a loan between our husbands and demanded repayment. Though Mr. Dandridge was able to present the funds, it was at the cost of Genie’s dowry and all our investments. We managed thereafter, but,” she raised a hand toward the window, “not as we once had.”