With Love's Light Wings

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With Love's Light Wings Page 37

by Jann Rowland


  “I have,” said Darcy. “It has been on my mind for some time that it would be for the best, but Elizabeth was fearful of being separated.”

  “Which fear was not unwarranted,” noted Fitzwilliam.

  “Indeed. Her uncle forwarded a letter from her yesterday, in which she declared her resolve to speak to the baron, asking for my consent. I gave it and returned to inform my father of the same.” Darcy paused and sighed. “Alexander became suspicious and discovered the letter.”

  The wince with which Fitzwilliam met that bit of intelligence summed up how Darcy felt himself. “He did not take it well?”

  “Called me a hypocrite,” said Darcy. “On a certain level, I can well understand his feelings. Had he any affection for the youngest girl, his arguments might have moved me, but he would not declare any such feelings.”

  “I hope he does nothing stupid,” muttered Fitzwilliam.

  It was a possibility Darcy had not considered. As part of his communication with his father, he had revealed Alexander’s discovery and reaction to the news, an opinion with which his father had not disagreed. Any further action Darcy thought was best to leave to his father, for Darcy had never had success in controlling his brother.

  “For what it is worth,” said Fitzwilliam, clasping Darcy’s shoulder, “I believe you have done the right thing, even if your father did not take it well.”

  Darcy snorted. “I had to remind him of Blackfish Bay.”

  A laugh was Fitzwilliam’s response. “Perhaps not the most tactful thing to do, but it will inform him you are determined.”

  “Of that, he is now in no doubt.”

  Fitzwilliam did not respond with anything other than a slap on the back. That evening Darcy did his best to ignore Lady Catherine’s antics, keeping to Fitzwilliam’s society and speaking in low tones.

  When a message arrived for his father late that evening, Darcy suspected it was from Lord Arundel. Though he had no notion of what it contained, Darcy noted his father remained thoughtful until he retired.

  Chapter XXIX

  Had her family left Elizabeth to herself she might have thought her continued separation from William would dominate her thoughts, filling her with the overwhelming longing to be in his company. For some time, Elizabeth found herself caught in the depths of that despair, for all of her father’s words notwithstanding, the prospect of being denied William’s company was hard to bear.

  Thomas, however, would not allow Elizabeth to wallow, though she suspected he would not have understood the situation even if he had known anything of it. His youthful exuberance was such that Elizabeth could not remain dejected, often being drawn into his games. Though he was at an age when his lessons often intruded—in his opinion—into his ability to have fun, Elizabeth waited until the tutor released him from his studies, for his presence would cheer her, and his requests to play would induce her to forget her troubles. On one subject, in particular, Thomas was insistent.

  “Lizzy,” said he, the day after Mr. Gardiner had discovered Elizabeth in William’s company, “you promised we would go out on a picnic. The rain has stopped, so I expect you to keep your promise.”

  With a laugh, Elizabeth caressed her brother’s cheek, fixing him with a smile. “I did make that promise, did I not?”

  “You did,” was the boy’s solemn reply. “It would be a great scandal if my sister was proven untrustworthy.”

  Elizabeth laughed again and pulled the boy into an embrace. “Only a scandal to a young boy intent upon having his own way. But a promise is a promise, and I am willing to keep my engagements.”

  The boy whooped, and Elizabeth moved to once again rein him in. “The ground, Thomas, is still muddy, so we shall need to wait until it has firmed enough that we will not return covered with mud.”

  When Thomas pouted, Elizabeth was quick to reassure him. “I believe another day or two should do the trick, dear brother. And as we must wait, perhaps another locale would be desirable for our outing? Longbourn is well known to us. Would you like to visit a place you have never seen?”

  “Where?” asked Thomas, his eagerness causing him to fidget.

  “There is an old ruin north of Pemberley,” suggested Mr. Bingley, who had been watching the interaction between siblings. “There is enough room there for us to have a picnic and games, and perhaps even indulge in a little fishing.”

  “That sounds like an excellent plan, Mr. Bingley,” said Elizabeth, showing the gentleman her appreciation with a grin.

  When her father heard of their intentions, his first reaction was to give Elizabeth a long and steady look. Knowing he was about to say something and misconstrue the reason for the location of their intended outing, Elizabeth was quick to reassure him.

  “It was Mr. Bingley’s suggestion, Papa. As you are aware, I have not even been out these past days, and have no way to contact Mr. Darcy. I have no expectation of seeing him there, and do not mean to seek him out.”

  That seemed to mollify her father, for he grasped her shoulder and squeezed. “Thank you, Lizzy, for indulging me. Then I shall leave you in Bingley and my cousin’s capable hands for your outing.” Lord Arundel paused and then he enfolded her in an affectionate embrace. “Patience, Lizzy. We cannot rush this matter of you and Mr. Darcy. I am inclined to allow your desires to come to fruition, and I believe the elder Mr. Darcy is coming around to my way of thinking.”

  Those words heartened Elizabeth, and though she still did not see William, she hoped it would not be long before she would. They soon decided among them that Mr. Collins and Mr. Bingley would accompany the siblings, but there was one who expressed contempt for their chosen amusement.

  “Why should I wish to picnic in such conditions as this?” demanded Lydia when they put the suggestion to her. “I should spend my time much better in studying to be an accomplished young woman.”

  Lydia had repeated that phrase many times in the past days, and to Elizabeth, Lydia’s attitude was becoming tiresome. Elizabeth had been denied her love, which was a much larger matter than Lydia being kept from her flirtations. But Lydia did not see it that way, for she seemed determined to cause as much trouble and draw as much attention to herself as she could. That their father had not further censured her was a testament to her good behavior—as far as anyone in the family could tell—though she insisted on making a commotion. Lord Arundel had not even assigned a footman to her when she left the house, not that she had been out these past few days.

  Elizabeth decided Lydia was just being the same headstrong and slightly spoiled girl she had often been. Lady Margaret stepped in to speak to her youngest, and guided her away, whispering to her, to which Lydia nodded, seeming to settle a little. If Lydia wished to pout and refuse to take part in their outings, it was of little consequence to Elizabeth, so she put her sister from her mind.

  The only thing marring Darcy’s return to Pemberley was his inability to see Elizabeth. Though he wished to see her again and rejoice in how close they were approaching to their families accepting their desire to be together, there was no way to contact her. While Darcy knew she had informed her father of their history, he did not think calling at Longbourn would be acceptable at this time. It was fortunate, therefore, that a solution presented itself.

  “Darcy!” exclaimed Bingley when Bingley arrived for a visit one morning. “I see your sojourn at Thorndell was of a short duration.”

  “It was,” said Darcy, accepting his friend’s hand in his own. “There were matters here that required my attention, and I returned to see to them.”

  “Matters such as Miss Elizabeth Bennet?” asked his friend with a grin.

  Nonplussed, Darcy stared at Bingley. “What do you know of it? I would not have thought the baron would announce it to his family.”

  “He has not,” said Bingley. “But Miss Elizabeth told her closest sister, who, if you will recall, is my betrothed. Jane then shared her intelligence with me, though I will own I had wondered if there might be some partialit
y between you.”

  “My friend Bingley, who notices nothing when his lady is nearby, suspected me of holding Miss Elizabeth in affection?”

  Bingley laughed. “You make me sound thoughtless, my friend.”

  “No, Bingley,” said Darcy, “just single-minded when it concerns your lady. Now, perhaps you should explain to me how you saw through us.”

  “Saw through you is overstating the matter,” said Bingley, sitting in a nearby chair Darcy. “I saw you speaking together after the incident with your brother and Miss Lydia, and I noted how you seemed to watch her during that incident in the bookshop.”

  “But that was some time before we began meeting,” protested Darcy.

  “Perhaps it was,” said Bingley. “I would wager, however, that you had already begun to think of her in warm terms before that incident. Can you deny it?”

  “I have no wish to deny it,” said Darcy. In his mind’s eye, he thought of those days, of his ever-increasing attraction to the charms of Miss Elizabeth Bennet. In this, Bingley was correct—while Darcy had tried to deny how she affected him, it had been impossible to do so and maintain any pretense of honesty.

  “Now I feel like I am looking at myself,” said Bingley with a laugh, pulling Darcy back to the awareness of his friend’s presence. “If that is how I looked those many times you called me out for contemplating a pretty face, I wonder that you did not burst out laughing every time.”

  “You are not incorrect, my friend,” said Darcy, fixing him with a rueful grin. “We have not been together enough since you began your courtship of Miss Bennet, but I imagine the occurrence of that expression has increased tenfold.”

  Bingley responded with a laugh of hearty amusement, not offended by his friend’s characterization of his distraction. “I will own to it without reserve, for there is so much perfection to consider when thinking of my betrothed!

  “However, I must insist you share your history with Miss Elizabeth with me, Darcy,” continued Bingley. “Jane did not know all the details, though she informed me she would further interrogate her sister when the opportunity presented itself. Can you not assuage my curiosity?”

  As it happened, Darcy was not at all averse to sharing his story with his friend. They sat for some time together, Darcy sharing his history with Elizabeth. While Bingley had owned to idle thoughts of Darcy’s interest, it was clear from the exclamations of surprise that he had known nothing of the truth of the matter. Then again, no one—not even Fitzwilliam, who had observed them together once—knew of the fullness of the matter. Darcy was determined no one ever would hear of certain events. The night on her balcony after Lord Chesterfield’s ball, for example, was precious to him and meant to remain between Elizabeth and Darcy. It was possible they might share the story with their children one day, but at present it was a treasured memory he shared with her alone.

  “It is possible you have already heard it from others,” said Bingley when Darcy finished telling his tale, “but I am astonished the ever-proper Fitzwilliam Darcy went so far as to meet with a young woman in secret, enough to have proposed to her. How can you account for such a blatant breach of propriety?”

  As he knew his friend was jesting, Darcy took no offense because he knew it was nothing less than the truth. “You are correct,” replied Darcy, feeling a hint of chagrin. “There is only one way I can justify my behavior—that Miss Elizabeth caught me in her web and induced me to be in love with her before I knew what was happening. I could have withstood her allure no more than I could walk on water.”

  “That, my friend, is more evidence of your besotted state than anything else you have said today. Now you have firsthand knowledge of how I feel!”

  “That I do, Bingley,” replied Darcy quietly. “That I do.”

  Darcy turned to his friend and noted his grin, but desperate as he was to hear of Elizabeth, he ignored. “Have you any news of Elizabeth?”

  “Missing her, are you?” asked Bingley, no little sympathy in his voice.

  “More than you can know,” said Darcy. “Though I have spoken with my father and she with hers and we both consider ourselves engaged, I cannot visit Longbourn at present and have no way of asking her to meet me elsewhere. I have been to the places we met before but have seen no sign of her.”

  Bingley nodded in commiseration, and Darcy reflected that his friend likely knew what he was experiencing. “Elizabeth is well, as far as I can see, though perhaps a little out of spirits. It seems to me she is missing you as much as you are missing her. While I do not think her father has prohibited her from seeing you, I understand he has asked for her patience.”

  While he nodded, Darcy could not have felt more dispirited. How he was to endure the days and weeks if Lord Arundel did not relent, he did not know.

  “But all is not lost,” said Bingley with some cheer in his voice. Darcy looked up to see his friend grinning. “Should she leave Longbourn for any reason, why, I think your path would be clear.”

  “And do you know of such an excursion?” asked Darcy.

  “I might,” said Bingley. “You did not hear this from me, you understand, but it is possible that the Bennet siblings might consider picnicking near the old ruin on Pemberley’s northern border tomorrow. If they should do so, Mr. Collins and I will likely accompany them, but we will be so caught up in admiration for our own ladies, I am certain our vigilance shall lapse long enough for a certain lady to walk, and if you were in the vicinity, you may come across her.”

  With a grin, Darcy grasped his friend’s hand. “I will be there, Bingley. What time do you expect to arrive?”

  “A little before luncheon, perhaps,” said Bingley. “And you need not concern yourself for Collins. The man knows nothing of these matters and does not agree with the difficulties between Pemberley and Longbourn regardless.”

  “Thank you, Bingley. You may have saved my sanity.”

  “It is my pleasure to be of service. Perhaps we may discover some way to resolve this situation.”

  “It is my fervent hope we shall,” said Darcy.

  Anticipation coursed through Darcy the next morning as he prepared to depart from Pemberley. It had been a week since he had last seen Elizabeth, and the longing to be in her company again was almost a physical ache. The prospect of holding her in his arms again set Darcy to greater introspection than was his wont, the eagerness so great, he tried to occupy himself as a means to prevent saddling his horse hours before he needed to.

  As the time approached, however, he felt ready to depart, and while the hour meant he would wait there for her to appear longer than he might wish, he could no longer delay. That was when another distraction presented itself in the person of his cousin.

  “Darcy,” said Anne as she met him in the hall outside the family wing. “Might I ask for your indulgence for a moment?”

  Though eager to leave, Darcy knew there was no rush, and as such he allowed his curiosity to guide his response. “Of course, Anne. How may I be of service?”

  Anne made a shushing motion, holding her finger to her lips, motioning Darcy to follow her. Intrigued, Darcy did so, finding himself in a smaller parlor toward the back of Pemberley’s main floor. When Anne entered, Darcy followed her, knowing that if it had been her mother, it may well have been an attempt to compromise them together.

  When she had ensured the door was closed behind them, she turned to Darcy and fixed him with a raised eyebrow. Darcy, understanding she was waiting for his protest, laughed.

  “I shall assume your mother will not arrive to find us alone, Anne.”

  The grin with which she responded told Darcy he had guessed correctly. “No, but I wished to speak to you in private. The matters I wish to discuss will become known to my mother before long, but I believe we should present them to her with a united front.”

  “In that, I assume you speak of your association with Mr. Gardiner,” said Darcy.

  “As much that as your own secret,” replied Anne, her eyes never leavin
g his. “Or am I mistaken?”

  “No, though I am interested to learn how much you know of it.”

  “I know nothing of it other than what I have observed. Anthony, I suspect, knows more.”

  “Yes, I am already aware of what Anthony knows,” replied Darcy. “As it will not remain a secret much longer, please know you will not endure your mother’s raptures on the subject of our engagement much longer, as I am now engaged to Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”

  The confession did not surprise Anne as much as Darcy might have thought, for Anne only nodded. “I suspected something of that nature. That is the reason I wished to speak to you this morning. The time has come to inform my mother and disabuse her of the notion of our engagement once and for all.”

  Darcy regarded Anne, his thoughts on her mother, wondering why she would suggest this now. Anne, it seemed, understood his curiosity, for she was quick to continue.

  “As you said, your secret will not remain so for much longer. Mine also, for my mother has already suspected my activities.”

  “Therefore, you wish to inform her of our secrets together.”

  “Yes,” affirmed Anne.

  “Then shall we?” asked Darcy, offering his arm.

  Anne laughed as she accepted his arm. “I had thought you might be less eager, Cousin, though I am not surprised at your willingness to brave the lion in her den.”

  “If it rids me of one more complication in the quest to ensure the family accepts Miss Elizabeth as my wife, I cannot meet the prospect with anything less than enthusiasm.”

  “Then let us proceed.”

  A moment later they walked into the sitting-room, and it surprised Darcy to see almost the entire family in residence gathered there, for it seemed they had caught wind that something significant was in the offing. Georgiana was absent, for which Darcy muttered a prayer of thanks, while Fitzwilliam, true to his character, regarded them with open amusement. The elder Darcy watched them with pensive resignation.

  Lady Catherine, by contrast, noted Anne’s hand on Darcy’s arm and nodded to herself with satisfaction. Had she kept her thoughts to herself Darcy might have pitied her. But the lady had never been known to keep her own counsel.

 

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