What if he was right?
What if she said no?
What if she said yes?
Darcy’s head throbbed from more than the extra glass of Muscat he had consumed over the course of the evening. With an exhalation, he raised his fingers to his temples and closed his eyes. “I have no idea what to do. I cannot afford to make another mistake where your niece is concerned.”
“Life is full of mistakes,” Mr. Gardiner told him. “Some people take the trouble to learn from their mistakes, and they are often the ones who are rewarded richly for their efforts. We cannot grow as individuals, Darcy, unless we learn. It is up to us whether we put that knowledge to use or set it upon a shelf. I have it on good authority from my wife that my niece may not be quite so immune to your charms as you believe. Do with that intelligence what you will, but know you cannot possibly do anything about it all the way from here. Go back to Hertfordshire at once. Visit my niece, and for the love of heaven, draw her out. I have known Elizabeth all her life, and, in those one-and-twenty years, I have never known her to keep her opinions, or her affections, to herself indefinitely.” He slapped his hands upon the table and rose.
Darcy followed suit. “Thank you,” he said sincerely as he extended his hand to Elizabeth’s uncle.
Mr. Gardiner grasped it between both his own. “You are always welcome, Darcy. Any time, for any reason. My wife and I have grown quite fond of you, and I daresay would like to keep you around.”
Too overwhelmed by the elder man’s sentiment to trust himself to return it, Darcy merely inclined his head. Instead, he said, “Please be so kind as to pay my respects to Mrs. Gardiner. It seems I am travelling to Hertfordshire tomorrow morning.”
* * *
As it turned out, Darcy was afforded the opportunity to offer his compliments to Mrs. Gardiner that evening, as well as his service, for he was charged with the delivery of a letter. It was by Mr. Gardiner’s suggestion that his wife take a half hour to write to her niece, and Darcy found himself incredibly appreciative, not only of the elder man’s solicitude in offering Darcy a reason to visit Longbourn and speak with Elizabeth, but of his perceptive understanding of Darcy’s reticent nature, especially in so far as the object of his affection was concerned. No one, save for his cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam, had ever gone to such lengths to put Darcy at ease in situations where conversation was required genuine, altruistic ease as the Gardiners. His affection for them grew.
By one o’clock the following day he arrived in Hertfordshire, and though he wanted nothing more than to proceed directly on to Longbourn, Darcy directed his coachman to Netherfield instead. There, he would take some refreshment after his four-hour journey, as well as some much-needed time to better compose his thoughts.
As Darcy ascended the steps to the front entrance, he glanced at the sky. It had been sunny for most of the drive from Town, but here in the country, the heavens were dull with little evidence of the sun in sight; only a few weak rays as could be seen through a sea of light grey clouds. The temperature was cool and crisp, but the day was otherwise fine—fine enough for taking a turn in the garden. Darcy imagined Bingley would be as eager to take advantage of the dry weather as he was to see Miss Bennet, but upon entering the house he discovered his friend much at home.
“Darcy,” Bingley exclaimed as he rose from his chair at the breakfast table, wiping crumbs from his waistcoat. “It is good to see you. Come, sit down and have a cup of tea.”
“It is good to see you as well,” Darcy said as he claimed a seat beside his friend. “I am surprised to find you at home.”
“And I am surprised to find you returned before ten days’ time, though it does not follow the surprise is unwelcome. In fact, I am glad you have come, for it saves me the trouble of composing a letter. I have some wonderful news to relate.”
“Do you?” Darcy enquired as he helped himself to a cup of tea.
“Yes. Since you have been away, I have become engaged to Miss Bennet.”
Darcy smiled warmly as he laid aside his teacup and extended his hand to his friend. “Congratulations are in order, then. I am happy for you, Bingley. Sincerely happy.”
With a firm grip, Bingley clasped Darcy’s hand with his own and shook it vigorously. “Thank you. Miss Bennet is an angel, and I consider myself the most fortunate man in the world to have earned her regard.”
“You are indeed most fortunate.” Though the moment belonged to his friend, he could not stop himself from wondering whether there would ever come a day when Elizabeth might be able to answer all his hopes, much as her sister had answered Bingley’s. As there was always a mutual regard and affection between his friend and Miss Bennet, Darcy was doubtful his own resolution would happen so expediently. The most he could do was pray it would happen at all.
“Have you had Cook’s boysenberry jam?” Bingley asked. “You must try it, Darcy. I dare say, I have tasted nothing so delightful on my toast.”
“Why are you not at Longbourn today?” Darcy asked as he selected some cold meat from a small platter. “I thought you would have set out long before the noon hour. Surely, Miss Bennet has not grown tired of you so soon?”
“Not quite.” Bingley chuckled as he scooped a healthy serving of jam from a little crystal bowl on the table and liberally applied it to his toast. “The Misses Bennet are not at home. They are visiting some acquaintance or other, a Mrs. Sutherland and her son, I believe. They own a pretty, little estate near Eastbourne: Willow Crest. I have been by it many times but have yet to make their acquaintance myself.”
“You will see Miss Bennet later this afternoon, then?”
“No, not today, for the family is to dine with the Sutherlands and the Philips, and I have been invited to dine with Mr. Jones and his wife.” Bingley laid his knife upon his plate with a frown. “Had I known you were coming today I would have arranged to spend the evening at home. Do you mind terribly, Darcy?”
Darcy shook his head. He was disappointed, yes, but his disappointment stemmed from having to put off seeing Elizabeth that day, not having to pass a quiet evening by himself. “It is fine, Bingley. I am quite used to dining alone.”
“Good Lord,” Bingley muttered with an expression of genuine concern. “That sounds absolutely depressing. No one ought to be used to dining alone. Tell me you dined with someone while you were in Town. Did you see your cousin, the colonel? Or perhaps his sisters? I dare say, if pressed there is always your staff. From what I have seen, you pay them handsomely. Surely your London housekeeper, Mrs. Sowersby, or her husband, would not refuse you one meal every now and again. I am sure you need only ask and they will happily oblige you. My own housekeeper, old Mrs. Nithercott, is most obliging whenever I do not feel like dining alone, and my butler as well.”
The urge to roll his eyes was difficult for Darcy to ignore as he envisioned the shock that would undoubtedly appear upon his rather proper housekeeper’s face should he ever instruct her to leave the household to run itself and join him for supper. Only Bingley, who gave little thought to station and ceremony, would ever abandon all appearance of propriety and take his meals with his staff. He could only assume his sisters, Caroline and Louisa, had no idea he did this or else they would have suffered an apoplectic fit.
“I did not eat my evening meals alone,” Darcy informed him. “As it so happens, I dined with friends. Their society was excellent, as was their wine.”
Bingley appeared placated. “I am relieved to hear it. Do not take this the wrong way, but I often worry about you, Darcy.”
Darcy’s brow quirked in amusement. It was usually he who worried about Bingley. Rarely was it the other way around. “And why is that, Bingley?”
Bingley shook his head. “It has long been an observation of mine that you seem content to go through life dissatisfied with the world and everyone in it. In my experience, however, the world is not nearly so dark and dreadful a place as you have declared it to be. Whether you believe it or not, there is much good to be found there a
s well. Someday you will see. Someday someone far more charming and persuasive than I will come along and change your opinion.”
He felt his cheek twitch with the beginning of a smile. Though Bingley did not yet know it, someone, a very pretty, impertinent someone, already had. It was now a matter of ascertaining her regard for him that would either ensure his own felicity in the world or guarantee his disfavour with it.
* * *
Dawn broke over Hertfordshire, and with it came the promise of a mild, cloudless day. It was decided between the two gentlemen they would rise early and break their fast at Netherfield, rather than impose themselves upon Mrs. Bennet’s hospitality. While Bingley had a standing invitation to dine at Longbourn often arriving before breakfast and staying until after the evening meal Darcy enjoyed no such intimacy with the family; and though he did long to see Elizabeth as soon as possible, he did not wish to cause any inconvenience to her mother, who would only be expecting to feed Bingley and not himself.
It was still early—just past ten o’clock in the morning—by the time they set out, but Darcy set a quick, steady pace and the three miles between the two estates were covered in good time. The gentlemen had no sooner turned onto the gravel drive that led to the manor house when Bingley remarked upon a stately looking carriage with two matched pairs parked at the front entrance. As they drew closer, Darcy recognised the livery, the crest, and Dawson, the acquiescent waiting-woman seated within, as belonging to none other than his aunt Lady Catherine de Bourgh of Rosings Park.
That the hour was far too early for anyone but Bingley to politely call upon the family mystified him nearly as much as Her Ladyship’s presence. Darcy simply could not account for her being there. It was not in Lady Catherine’s nature to visit anyone beyond her neighbours in Kent, or Hunsford Village, where she presided over the day to day affairs of the inhabitants as though they were her own. The only explanation he could think of was that she carrying a letter from Mrs. Collins, much as Darcy was from Mrs. Gardiner. It made perfect sense, until Darcy recalled this was Her Ladyship, whose benevolence rarely extended beyond what was convenient to her—and frowned. Traveling all the way to Hertfordshire from Kent, was anything but a convenience.
Before Bingley had even dismounted, Darcy had consigned his own horse to a stable boy and was on his way to the house. “Darcy,” his friend called. “Wherever are you going in such a hurry? I will only be a moment.”
With an exhalation, Darcy slowed his pace but not without some effort. He was anxious to enter the house for several reasons, but whether his anxiety was most owed to the prospect of seeing Elizabeth again or his impatience to ascertain the purpose of Lady Catherine’s visit, he could not say.
Bingley joined him and they went inside, where they were escorted to the morning room and their arrival announced to Mrs. Bennet. Her daughters, save for the one Darcy most wished to see, were all present. Though he had expected the imposing figure of his aunt to be amongst them, a quick scan of his surroundings informed Darcy she was not, in fact, in the room. His unease increased.
After the usual formalities were exchanged, Bingley claimed a seat beside Miss Bennet with an easy smile, while Darcy laid his hand upon the back of a vacant chair and shifted his weight from his left foot to his right. The prospect of being reunited with Elizabeth had made him feel excited and restless, but her absence, in concert with that of his aunt, rendered him far too fidgety to sit down for more than a few minutes together. He therefore chose to remain standing.
After several polite inquiries from all parties, Mrs. Bennet said to him, “How surprised we were to see your aunt this morning, Mr. Darcy! She is a fine-looking woman, and her calling here is prodigiously civil! She is on her road somewhere, I dare say, and so passing through Meryton thought she might call on Elizabeth.”
“Yes. I was surprised to see her carriage myself. It is most unusual. Her Ladyship is not in the habit of leaving Kent, especially this time of year.”
“Perhaps she has business in Town?” Mrs. Bennet said.
“Perhaps.” He thought it wise to keep his aunt’s distaste for the place to himself. Soon, however, his impatience got the best of him and he said, “Where might I find Her Ladyship, madam? As her nephew, I ought to greet her properly. She is excessively attentive to such things, and I do not wish to incur her displeasure.”
“Oh! Certainly not,” Mrs. Bennet readily agreed. “Her Ladyship expressed a desire to walk out earlier, and I suggested Elizabeth show her the hermitage.” With a wave of her handkerchief, she indicated a window on the western side of the room. “Ours is much finer than the Lucas’s, you know. Everybody says it is so. You must tell me your opinion when you are come back.” She turned to Bingley, who had been speaking with Miss Bennet and her sisters, and said cheerfully, “And what do you think of my hermitage, Mr. Bingley?”
As Bingley muddled through his answer, Darcy walked to the window and peered outside, where he noticed two figures emerging from a small copse of trees just across the lawn. Elizabeth was in front and Lady Catherine, just behind, waving her cane about in an agitated manner. It was clear they were headed toward the house and, as they got closer, Darcy could better see their countenances: Elizabeth’s, flushed with agitation, and his aunt’s, pale with anger.
He expelled a quiet oath. The scene playing out before him did not bode well for their return to the house. Turning away from the window, he quickly made his way to the door and quitted the room. That Lady Catherine was angry, and that her anger was directed at Elizabeth, he was in little doubt, but as to why remained to be discovered.
In half-a-minute’s time, he had reached the front door. He grasped the handle, fully intent upon throwing it open and making his presence known, but the sound of Elizabeth’s voice stopped him.
“How far your nephew might approve your interference in his affairs I cannot tell; but you have certainly no right to concern yourself in mine. I must beg, therefore, to be importuned no further on the subject.”
Darcy remained frozen behind the closed door, his brows furrowed in bewilderment. He must have misheard her. That he could very well be the topic of their discord seemed as unlikely to him as it was incredible. Surely, his aunt had not travelled all the way to Hertfordshire from Kent because of him. Darcy could hardly believe such unsolicited involvement in his affairs was even possible, never mind actual, and felt at once mortified and indignant. Before he could decide how he ought to proceed, Lady Catherine addressed Elizabeth, and Darcy, though he knew it was wrong, pressed closer to the door so that he might hear her better.
“Not so hasty, if you please,” said Her Ladyship to Elizabeth. “I have by no means done. To all the other objections I have still another to add. I am no stranger to the particulars of your youngest sister’s infamous elopement. I know it all; that the young man’s marrying her was a patched-up business, at the expense of your father and uncles. And is such a girl to be my nephew’s sister? Is her husband to be his brother? Heaven and Earth! Of what are you thinking? Are the shades of Pemberley to be thus polluted?”
If Darcy had expected his aunt to say anything, it certainly wasn’t this. Lydia Bennet’s elopement aside, it sounded as though Her Ladyship expected a marriage to occur between himself and Elizabeth! Where she had received such a convoluted impression eluded him, until he recalled that his friend had recently become engaged to Elizabeth’s sister, and that the Lucases, in keeping contact with Mr. and Mrs. Collins, must have spread their own assumptions to Hunsford.
“You can now have nothing further to say,” Elizabeth resentfully answered. “You have insulted me by every possible method.”
“You have no regard, then, for my nephew! Unfeeling, selfish girl! Do you not consider that a connection with you must disgrace him in the eyes of everybody?”
“Lady Catherine,” Elizabeth said, and here Darcy could hear more than agitation in her voice; he could hear pain. “I have nothing further to say. You know my sentiments.”
“
You are then resolved to have him?” his aunt asked.
Darcy’s breath caught in his throat. If there was ever a question he wished to hear an answer to, it would be this one, at this moment; but he seemed destined for disappointment, for Elizabeth’s reply was not so much an answer as it was an evasion.
“I have said no such thing. I am only resolved to act in that manner which will, in my own opinion, constitute my happiness, without reference to you, or to any person so wholly unconnected with me.”
Elizabeth sounded as though she had reached the end of her composure, and Darcy decided he had heard enough. Before any more could be said on the subject by either lady, he yanked the door open and stepped outside, making sure to close it firmly behind him lest they draw any attention from those within the house.
As he had anticipated, his sudden appearance was enough to startle his unsuspecting aunt into silence, a rare occurrence in his experience, and he took the opportunity to say to her:
“Lady Catherine. I was not expecting to see you in Hertfordshire. I trust your journey was a pleasant one.”
Without waiting for her reply, Darcy turned to Elizabeth, who stared at him with an expression he could only describe as a combination of mortification and horror. It was apparent she was as shocked to see him as he had been to find her engaged in an argument with his aunt. “Miss Bennet,” he said, softening his tone considerably, “I hope I have found you well.”
Lady Catherine gave a disdainful snort. “Oh, she is well, I dare say. Well enough to refuse the claims of duty, honour, and gratitude.”
Elizabeth’s complexion, already heightened, flushed deeper still. “Neither duty, nor honour, nor gratitude, have any possible claim on me in the present instance. I bid you a good journey, Lady Catherine.” And with that, she stepped forward and made to lay her hand upon the door handle so she could go into the house. Darcy saw that she was shaking.
“You are determined to ruin him in the opinion of all his friends, and make him the contempt of the world,” Her Ladyship cried, pointing an accusing finger first at Elizabeth and then at her nephew.
The Darcy Monologues: A romance anthology of Pride and Prejudice short stories in Mr. Darcy's own words Page 22