A Very Austen Romance

by Robin Helm

  Darcy remained silent, which he had learned a long time ago was best when speaking to Caroline or her sister. Otherwise, they took what he said and twisted it into something that sounded like he agreed with them, even though usually he did not.

  Had she noticed how captivated he was by Elizabeth? He had to be more careful. Caroline could be quite nasty to anyone she thought of as competition.

  Darcy had never considered Caroline Bingley as a prospective marriage partner, not even for one moment. Short of insulting her, he had done everything in his power to make his lack of intentions towards her clear, and had even told her brother straight out that he would never marry her. Still, she seemed to have hope that someday he would change his mind.

  Caroline continued, “Louisa and I are very unhappy with everything we have come across in Hertfordshire thus far. After we have done with him, Charles will not renew his lease here.”

  It was more likely her brother would simply not invite them the next time he comes. Though Bingley’s sisters liked to think they had complete control over their brother, he had confided that he barely listened when they spoke. Years ago, when he was of school age, he had learned a trick. While it may look as if he listens most intently, he was actually translating some of their phrases and sentences into Latin. It was amazing that every time he returned to school after a holiday, he had a much better grasp of the language.

  As they walked away from the first family they were introduced to, he overheard the matron say, “That is him! Mr. Darcy is the man who saved Elizabeth Bennet.”

  The ballroom was so packed, Bingley did not have to move very far to meet the next family.

  Behind Darcy, a younger female asked, “But who knows what else he did to her? I understood she was unconscious and they were alone.”

  A third said, “Essie told me they were seen together on his horse. She was leaning against him quite intimately.”

  The second voice piped in again, “And then they stayed at Netherfield together for several days!”

  A male voice joined in, “Enough! Keep your voices down.”

  Anger boiled in Darcy’s chest. He had thought Elizabeth’s reputation was safe. Simmons had heard nothing at the tavern. Elizabeth had said her mother had not heard a word of gossip. Did they all wait until now to begin to discuss what they had heard, or had it been going on in private all this time? Would the Bennet family ruined because of him?

  Sir William led them to meet a third group of people, which turned out to be Sir William’s family who were standing with the Henn family. As they moved on to the next, Darcy remained at the rear of the group and listened again to the conversation behind him.

  Lady Lucas said, “Henrietta, do not be silly. Jane Bennet and a maid was with her at all times. Do you know Sarah Johnston? Yes, Sarah is working at Netherfield now. Miss Elizabeth was severely injured and was never alone. Mr. Darcy saved her life and then left her to herself. All was perfectly innocent.”

  There was a rustling of skirts and footsteps. Darcy could imagine some of the ladies walking away.

  He recognized Miss Lucas’s voice next. “Lizzy has always followed propriety, Mama, and has never caused any trouble. Why do they not believe the truth? They seemed to have accepted what we said over the past weeks.”

  “Because, my dear, it is much more exciting to think poor Elizabeth is ruined. Their opinion was easier to sway towards the truth when in small numbers. This is the first time the neighbourhood denizens are all together. Gossip feeds off the stories of others and grows in strength.” Lady Lucas hesitated. “It is the way of the world, Charlotte. It is not what actually happens that matters, it is what others imagine occurred. You must remain on your guard and never put yourself in a situation that could be misconstrued.”

  He glanced over toward the Bennets, who Sir William soon would approach. They seemed to know nothing of the rumours spreading like wildfire around the ballroom.

  At least Elizabeth had champions in the Lucas family. His opinion of them rose dramatically.

  The last ideas Lady Lucas had spoken were almost identical to what he had told his sister on their journey from Ramsgate to London. He had managed to keep the news of his sister’s near-elopement from reaching the ears of others, thus avoiding her ruin, but now it was possible he had actually caused the ruination of another young lady.

  A shudder passed through him.

  What did these people want him to have done at Oakham Mount, leave Elizabeth lying in a precarious position on the ledge? Should he have waited until a lady happened by so they had a chaperone? What if Elizabeth had tried to stand and fallen off the cliff? His stomach roiled at the thought.

  But Elizabeth’s ruin… he refused to allow it.

  He would ask Elizabeth to marry him. Tonight.

  Doing so might cause tongues to wag even more at first, but if they married, that would pass. As his wife, her status in society would have them scrambling to befriend her again. He doubted the gossip would follow them to London or Derbyshire. And if it did, at this point, he did not care.

  They would marry.

  Satisfaction washed over him.

  Bingley finished greeting another of his new neighbours. Darcy had been paying so little attention, though he knew he had shaken hands and bowed his head when required, he did not even remember their names.

  Sir William progressed to stand before the Bennets. Bingley moved forward and Darcy tried to follow, but something held him back, which is when he realized Caroline Bingley was still on his arm.

  Had she heard all that he had?

  Caroline must have heard it all for she seemed in a panic. It dawned on him that she knew what he would do under the circumstances and probably did not wish to be nearby to witness it.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Darcy. I must speak to my sister,” Caroline said.

  She rushed towards Mrs. Hurst, which was fine by him.

  He searched for Mr. Bennet, but the gentleman was nowhere in sight.

  Sir William cleared his throat. “May I introduce Mrs. Bennet? Of course, you know her husband and the eldest of her lovely daughters, Jane and Elizabeth. And here is Miss Mary Bennet, as well. Her other two daughters, Catherine and Lydia, are on the dance floor, I believe.”

  Elizabeth met Darcy’s gaze. He suddenly found it difficult to breathe.

  She was even more beautiful than he remembered. Her skin glowed with health and good humour; her eyes twinkled with pleasure at seeing him again.

  His determination to ask for her hand flourished.

  He had spent the last few weeks denying his feelings for her, but the truth was, he cared a great deal for this lady.

  In fact, he loved her.

  CHAPTER 9

  As Mr. Darcy had toured the room, his expression had been so cold and unyielding, Elizabeth had questioned whether she remembered him as she wanted him to be instead of what he really was.

  However, as his gaze met hers just now, the lines of his face softened and there was such warmth in his eyes, it was overwhelming.

  Was that alteration for her?

  Her mother asked, “And Mr. Darcy, did you come to dance?”

  He turned to her mother. His expression changed again, closer to the one he wore before but not quite so impassive.

  Mr. Darcy made a movement with his head that might have been a yes or no. “May I ask after your husband, Mrs. Bennet?”

  “He is well, I thank you, sir, though he is not one for dancing. He is at home tonight enjoying his bookroom, instead.”

  Disappointment crossed his features. Had he enjoyed her father’s company that much?

  He turned to her again. “Are you engaged for the next set, Miss Elizabeth?”

  She had promised Mr. Jones she would not dance much this evening, but she could not pass up the chance to do so with Mr. Darcy. “I am not engaged, sir.”

  “Will you… dance with me?”

  Why had he hesitated? “I will.”

  Her words pleased him well
beyond what the situation called for. He flashed a brilliant smile, which made her heart flutter.

  The orchestra played a few notes to warn the attendees that a new set would soon begin. Mr. Darcy held out his arm. She took it. Again she felt a tingling warmth, combined with the feeling that she was coming home.

  Mr. Bingley had already led Jane to the floor, and they stood next to them.

  The music started. As they began to move, Mr. Darcy approached. “Since your father is not here…” He moved out of her hearing range. When he moved closer again, he continued, “I am forced to speak to you first.”

  He was forced to speak with her? That was not good.

  When the dance allowed, she asked, “Can you tell me to what this refers?”

  He answered, “Look around the room.”

  It was an odd request, but as she made a sweeping turn around Jane as part of the dance, she paid close attention to her neighbours.

  Goodness! Nearly everyone in the ballroom was staring at either her or Mr. Darcy. At least a quarter of the ladies present were whispering behind their hands. Her mother had paled considerably. Mary frowned. Jane only had eyes for Mr. Bingley. Kitty and Lydia were nowhere within sight; they must be dancing further down the line.

  She quickly looked back to Mr. Darcy. He nodded.

  The gossip had begun!

  Fear overtook her senses, followed by anger, which drowned it out.

  They joined hands. “Did you know this would happen if we danced together?”

  He shook his head. “It had already begun.” The next time he approached, he continued, “I have heard almost nothing else since I arrived.”

  That could only mean that people had already been talking of her disgrace, but they had been careful not to do so within hearing of her mother or aunt.

  Tears welled in her eyes. She was ruined—thoroughly ruined—and her family along with her. What was she to do?

  Through her watery eyes, Mr. Darcy seemed to be looking at her with pity.

  As she made another turn around Jane, her sister met her gaze. “Is something wrong, Lizzy?”

  If she spoke, she would begin crying in earnest. Instead, she faced Mr. Darcy, curtsied and rushed away. As she hurried toward the balcony, she heard Jane call out to her.

  The cool air shocked away the sobs that had been choking her.

  A moment later, she heard the door open again. Jane joined her at the railing. “Tell me; what is it?”

  “Oh, Jane. Here I was thinking the threat of gossip was over; meanwhile, everyone has assumed all along that I have been compromised.”

  Jane inhaled quickly. “Surely not.”

  Mr. Darcy must have followed Jane, for his voice sounded out from behind them. “It is true.”

  Elizabeth turned to look upon him. Goodness, even in the dim light, he was magnificent.

  His eyes never left her face. “Soon after my arrival here tonight, I overheard their gossip, so I began paying very close attention to their conversations. Lady Lucas and her daughter apparently have been telling them all along that all had been within the rules of propriety, but tonight the tales are spinning beyond their ability to quash them.”

  Elizabeth swallowed hard. Her voice quivered when she said, “I care not for myself, but my sisters will be ruined.”

  He shook his head. “They will not.” He stepped towards her. Still staring into her eyes, he said to Jane, “Miss Bennet, may I have a moment with your sister?”

  His intense gaze pulled her towards him, but she forced herself to stop a pace away. The look in his eyes caused her heart to beat so wildly, she thought it might burst from her chest at any moment.

  Jane said, “I will stand by the door, but I will not leave you alone. It would only be used to justify their gossip.”

  Mr. Darcy nodded slightly. He took half a step closer and waited a few moments before saying, “Marry me, Elizabeth.”

  Oh, goodness! They are words she had dearly wanted to hear, but not under these circumstances. “To save my sisters from ruination?”

  He shook his head. “No. The rumours only moved things along more quickly.”

  She gasped.

  “I always thought I would be furious if ever accused of compromising a lady.” He chuckled. “In this case, I am not upset at all. I find myself delighted, in a way.” He hesitated. “It is a bit confusing.”

  She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing would come out. Good heavens, what should she say? She wanted to be with him always, but not with a beginning such as this.

  “You resist?”

  She answered, “I told you at Netherfield, I did not want your heroic deed to force you into marriage. The truth is, I see no other choice but to accept.”

  “If I asked when there were no rumours, would you accept?”

  They stared at each other in silence.

  The only answer she could voice was, “I always wished for a love-match.”

  He took her hands in both of his. “Do you love me, Elizabeth?”

  She looked down at a button on his coat. She had spent so much effort trying to hide her feelings; should she admit it now? She met his gaze once more. There was nothing to it—she had to be honest with him. “I am afraid I do, Mr. Darcy.”

  His chest filled fully. She looked up; he was smiling wider than she had ever seen. “Afraid implies you would rather not.”

  “It will be a very unequal marriage if you do not feel the same about me.”

  His expression sobered, then he stepped back and went down on one bent knee before her. Holding her hand in his, he gazed into her eyes. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet, you must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you. Will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”

  “You love me, Mr. Darcy?”

  He nodded. “I have never been more certain of anything in my life.”

  He stood, removed a glove, and gently cupped her face, his thumb brushing her cheek.

  “I accept, Mr. Darcy. I will marry you.”

  He leaned down and pressed his lips tenderly to hers. Her first kiss was exquisite, awakening part of her soul she never knew existed. As if she were being pulled by a magnet, she leaned towards him and he kissed her again.

  When he drew away, her eyes fluttered open and she deeply breathed in is scent, hoping never to forget this moment.

  He grinned. “You have your love-match, Elizabeth.”

  She whispered, “You made my wish come true.”

  “I hope to spend every day doing so. Forever.”

  “Forever,” she sighed.

  THE END

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  JOHN KNIGHTLEY WINS A WIFE

  Barbara Cornthwaite

  John Knightley Wins a Wife Copyright © 2020 Barbara Cornthwaite

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems — except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews — without permission in writing from its publisher and author.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  20th July

  Tallis Street

  Dear George,

  I write to congratulate you on reaching your thirtieth year. No doubt you feel that at such an advanced age, your powers are beginning to fail, and I can only agree and sympathise with your melancholy. I have a cane, some spectacles and an ear trumpet ready for your use. As dreadful as it is, you have the consolation that wisdom is said to come with age, and you will shortly be known as the wisest sage that ever resided at Donwell—if you do not succumb to the senility that threatens to overwhelm you as the years roll on.

  I was glad to read in your letter of the 12th that Mr. Woodhouse has recovered from his cold, and also that you have persuaded Larkins of the necessity of building
a new mill before the old one completely disintegrates. I know he is careful in expenditure (I suspect Scotch ancestry somewhere on his mother’s side), but it is hardly an extravagance to have a working mill on the estate!

  Yes, the Long Vacation has begun and I will not need to be in court until October. You expressed surprise that I was not already back at Donwell and thought I must be anxious to get away from the heat and noise of Town. Ordinarily I would be, but I have Another Interest which has been occupying my mind and my time, not to mention my heart. I am writing to beg your indulgence that when you come to London next week you will accompany me to a small ball here given by Lady Clare on Wednesday next. It will not be a grand affair, of course, being given in summer when so many are in the country, but the Clares have a large acquaintance in Town, and it will not be paltry, at least. I wish to introduce you to Miss Dudley. I need not give you any particulars about her. When you see her, you will understand.

  Give my regards to Mrs. and Miss Bates, Dr. and Mrs. Hughes, William Larkins, and anyone else you believe might care to receive them. I shall hope to see them all before long, but more of that when you come next week.

  Your affectionate brother,

  John

  _______________________

  The weather was seasonably warm when George Knightley rode into London and threaded through the crowded, noisy, and somewhat malodourous streets on his way to the rooms his brother lodged in. John’s letter had intrigued him with its mysterious gravity about Miss Dudley. Its flippant opening paragraphs about his age were much more in character, as well as the interest in the happenings in Donwell. A serious reference to a young lady was almost unprecedented.

  John had been a diligent student and was now an assiduous barrister, never one to carry on flirtations with respectable young ladies and even less likely to be involved in intrigues with less respectable females. The sober, punctilious shades of Knightleys past had nothing to be ashamed of in John. He had bypassed most of the outrageous excesses of youth, neither throwing his money away on ridiculous fashions or games of chance, nor spending his time drinking to excess and traveling to horse races. Very likely this was due less to innate virtue than to the fact that he was never comfortable with crowds of people and preferred reading a book at his own fireside to attending a ball or some other boisterous jollification. However, the result was that he had completed his student days and early years of training in the law with very few scrapes to regret.