by Heather Moll
Table of Contents
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
About the Author
Acknowledgments
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
His Choice of a Wife
Copyright © 2019 by Heather Moll
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any format whatsoever. For information: P.O. Box 34, Oysterville WA 98641
ISBN: 978-1-68131-033-6
Cover design by Janet Taylor
Cover image courtesy and copyright RegencyCouture
Graphic layout by Ellen Pickels
Dedication
For John—
who will always be the creation that I am the most proud of
Chapter 1
Elizabeth Bennet wandered the grove with tears still on her cheeks as she clutched Mr. Darcy’s letter. While she remained indignant at his style of address, she did feel compassion for his disappointed feelings. It was gratifying to have inspired so strong an affection, however unconsciously done. But the shock of Mr. Darcy being in love with her, and anger towards herself for her poor conduct, left her too fatigued to continue her walk, and she turned back.
I was so mistaken about his character!
On her way back to the parsonage, Elizabeth reviewed her conversations and debates with Mr. Darcy. She had been unfair to him, no matter how improper his pride. She could acknowledge he was her match in intelligence and wit. Perhaps he had appreciated her for being a lively woman who never flattered him. He had stared at her not because he found fault with her appearance or manners, but because he had admired her all along.
She was honored Mr. Darcy had trusted her with his private information about that scoundrel Mr. Wickham. In the unlikely event she ever saw Mr. Darcy again, she would make it clear to him that she was ashamed of her despicable actions. Her vanity, wounded six months ago, prejudiced her against him to such an extent that she rewarded an unscrupulous man with her favor and misjudged a good one.
When she entered the parsonage, she heard gentlemen’s voices through the drawing room door. The colonel and Mr. Darcy! She looked at her creased letter, its edges already beginning to wear. He must hate the sight of me! How could he greet her civilly after what they said to one another last night? More importantly, how could she communicate to him across Charlotte’s sitting room, and in the presence of others, that she knew she had misjudged him?
Elizabeth formed a resolution: she was ashamed of herself, and her self-imposed punishment would be to walk into the room and find a way to tell Fitzwilliam Darcy that, although she did not regret refusing his proposal, she did regret her treatment of him. She would leave him with no misgivings of her new, low opinion of Mr. Wickham.
With a sigh, and with no expectation of pleasure, Elizabeth walked into the drawing room, determined to correct one aspect of their many misunderstandings before she forever shut the door on their acquaintance.
***
Darcy considered himself to be a strict observer of the proprieties of polite society, and civility called for him to visit the ladies of the parsonage before departing for London tomorrow. Of course, he had suggested to Fitzwilliam this precise time to call because he knew Elizabeth would likely still be in the grove and he could avoid her.
He hoped his letter had made her think better of him. He was unprepared to see her fine eyes again, knowing not only that they would not smile at him, but they had never done so. He had mistakenly thought her playful manners were an indication of her warm attachment. He would endeavor to be civil if they ever met again although he doubted she could appreciate his condescension.
He repressed a sigh and looked out the window at the path leading from the lane. Darcy felt his heart stop. There she was, head downcast, clutching sheets of paper in her right hand as she wiped her cheeks with her left. He was relieved to see her moved by his words. It implied that she believed him—that she thought on her behavior with regret.
His own regrets had prevented him, until now, from considering her criticisms. How could she accuse me of ungentlemanly conduct? Had he, in truth, allowed conceit to rule his every interaction? She had held a mirror up to his conduct, and Darcy was not wholly pleased with the reflected image.
He was polite but rarely attentive to others’ interests or desires. Darcy realized that in his proposal not only did he fail to compliment the woman he loved but he insulted her by nearly every means imaginable. He was ashamed of the lack of respect he showed to those outside his own circle and to the family of the woman he wanted to make his wife. What kind of a man faults his would-be bride for her closest connections? Elizabeth Bennet would not be his bride now. How could he have expected his suit to be accepted when he spoke to her in such a way?
She was not expecting my addresses. On the contrary, she has disliked me these many months. Something other than Mr. Wickham’s malevolence and his own interference regarding Bingley and Miss Bennet must have made her decide against him because she had heartlessly said that she had not known him a month before she felt he was the last man in the world whom she could marry. They had been introduced at that horrid assembly, but it was not until the third time he saw her that he took full notice of her.
“Tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me.” His cruel remark at the Meryton assembly must have been overheard and then passed on to her. Indeed, she had been sitting near enough to have heard the entire tête-à-tête herself. Remorse filled him as he realized he had truly thought meanly not only of others, and their sense of worth compared to his own, but of the woman he had wanted to make his wife. It was little wonder she refused him.
The front door opened and closed; Elizabeth would enter the drawing room at any moment. I will show her, by every civility in my power, that I do not resent her and that I will attend to her reproofs. By some means, he had to ask for her forgiveness, and he had to do so in the course of a morning call in the company of his cousin, Mrs. Collins, and her sister.
He schooled his features with a command of countenance that he hoped would mask his inner turmoil and rose as Elizabeth entered the room.
***
“Why, Eliza, I did not expect you home for some time!”
Colonel Fitzwilliam’s countenance also brightened. “We all but despaired of seeing you. I was almost resolved to walk after you until you could be found.”
Elizabeth did her best to affect pleasure in returning in time.
“Will you miss your morning rambles in the park at Rosings after you return home?” the colonel asked.
She could not
help but look at Mr. Darcy at the mention of early morning walks and was met with a solemn stare. “I often prefer to be out of doors, and the company in Hertfordshire will certainly not be the same as here in Kent.”
“At least the militia will still be encamped near Meryton when we return,” Maria Lucas said. “The officers offer us lively society, do they not?”
Elizabeth saw Mr. Darcy’s face pale. He likely expects me to extol the virtues of Mr. Wickham again.
“While I agree that company in the country is often less varied, I am pleased the regiment is leaving in May and we shall once again enjoy the companionship of only our dear neighbors.”
Mr. Darcy’s expression was incredulous. “You are pleased to see the regiment removed from Meryton? That is truly your sentiment regarding…regarding the militia?”
“That is correct. While I found the officers diverting, my opinion of them has changed. It must be the great distance between Kent and Hertfordshire. I was too hasty in preferring their mere appearance of happy manners. I would rather spend time with our long-established friends in the neighborhood.”
Mr. Darcy had been leaning forward in his chair, and at this, he sat back and exhaled sharply.
Elizabeth felt exquisite relief! Mr. Darcy must understand she was ashamed of both her misjudgment of him and her former—and now contemptible—approval of Mr. Wickham. Mr. Darcy was entirely blameless in regard to Mr. Wickham although she still harbored some resentment over his interference with Mr. Bingley. He might have been unconscious of her sister’s feelings, but he ought not to have tried to separate them.
“Since your morning walk was shortened, perhaps you will take a turn in the garden with me?” Colonel Fitzwilliam asked her.
“Forgive me, but I am fatigued and would prefer to remain here.”
He gallantly offered to accompany the other ladies out of doors; Charlotte declined, but her sister agreed. Mr. Darcy remained in his chair, staring at the carpet, and appeared not to have heard.
Charlotte asked Mr. Darcy whether he was looking forward to being in London. “I happily anticipate reuniting with my sister whom I have not seen since February. Miss Bennet, is your elder sister still in town?”
Elizabeth started at being addressed again—and so pleasantly. There was an unfamiliar awkwardness in his demeanor when he normally commanded presence and confidence. Could Mr. Darcy still hope for her good opinion? For a fleeting moment, Elizabeth wondered whether it was in her power to make him happy. Even from the beginning of their acquaintance, something about him had made her intensely aware of him. She admitted that he had always had admirable qualities, that she could respect him without reservation.
“My sister is staying with my mother’s relations—near Cheapside.” Elizabeth could not help but emphasize the address. Darcy looked embarrassed, and Elizabeth regretted her inability to check herself. She had no reason to antagonize him further.
“May I deliver your letters to your sister? I return to London tomorrow and am at liberty the next day to call on her on your behalf.”
Charlotte clattered her teacup against its saucer; Elizabeth stared in silence. Why would he call on her family after insulting her inferior connections when he offered her his hand?
“I did not take proper leave of your family when I departed Hertfordshire, and I would like the opportunity to be of service to them,” he continued.
Elizabeth felt agitated beyond expression. He would be willing to call specifically on Jane after he had admitted that she was not a suitable wife for Mr. Bingley? “I am afraid my letters to my sister and my aunt Gardiner are unfinished.”
“I would be happy to retrieve them in the morning. I have no plans in town tomorrow, so it is of little consequence if we need to wait for you to complete your correspondence. Indeed, I am quite at my leisure until Tuesday when Mr. Bingley returns.”
Elizabeth understood him at once. He regretted his interference and would tell Mr. Bingley that he called at Gracechurch Street to deliver her letter to Jane. Then Mr. Bingley would know Jane was in town and perhaps they would be reunited!
All conversation ended when Maria and Colonel Fitzwilliam returned with Mr. Collins, who was professing his lengthy apologies at having been kept so long by his illustrious patroness to have nearly missed the gentlemen’s call. With a shared glance, the gentlemen decided to depart, and they were gone before Elizabeth had the chance to speak again about Mr. Bingley.
***
Early on Saturday, Darcy again walked the grove he knew to be Elizabeth’s favorite, hoping she would have her letters with her. It would be easier to speak privately here, and he would prefer not to call at the parsonage to retrieve them. He was thankful he had managed to talk to her in front of the others without either of them having to mention their argument and his ill-fated proposal.
He would call in Gracechurch Street, pay his penance to Jane Bennet, and deliver the letters. He would make the call, be all that was civil and obliging, and tell Bingley he had seen Elizabeth’s elder sister in town.
When had she become Elizabeth in his mind and not Miss Bennet? She had been Miss Elizabeth Bennet when he was trying to convince himself of her unworthiness, but since seeing her again in Kent, she was his dearest Elizabeth in every waking moment. He was well aware that the use of her given name was a sign of intimacy he had not earned. He may have written in his letter that he had no intention of dwelling on his wish to marry her, but now, with his anger abated, Darcy could not deny the depth of his continuing attachment.
Is there any reason to hope that she could someday return my affections? How was he to communicate his hopes for, at the least, her forgiveness? He was willing to concede that he had been too arrogant and self-satisfied, but he was not shy. She had expressed herself well the previous day despite the awkwardness of the conversation. How was he to accomplish the same?
Was there any point in professing his love again? Or, once their misunderstandings had been addressed, should he gather what remained of his dignity and forget her?
***
Elizabeth saw Mr. Darcy pacing by the gate, and he appeared to be deep in reflection. He raised his head when he heard her approach. Mr. Darcy lacked the haughty composure of yesterday’s early morning encounter. His dark eyes looked troubled, the set of his shoulders was tense, and it was plain that he had slept poorly, if at all, during the last two nights.
Elizabeth was embarrassed and almost regretted walking out to find him this morning to give him her letters. When she awoke, she was sure she could not endure another public conversation laced with hidden meanings. Much might have been said, but their awkward silence persisted until he asked whether she had her letters.
“Yes, I happened to bring them.” Elizabeth handed them to him. Although he had indicated he would make amends to Mr. Bingley, she was certain he must still resent her; he likely was impatient to be out of her presence. Nevertheless, she wanted to say something to lighten their mood and help them to part amicably.
He spoke before she could think of anything appropriate to say. “Did reading my letter make you think better of me?” His question seemed impulsive and not conducive to a hasty parting. They walked as it was easier to avoid looking into each other’s eyes when they strolled side by side.
“I was astonished—no, horrified—by your account. I behaved despicably, and I am ashamed of myself.”
“I know not of what he particularly accused me, but Mr. Wickham has acted with a total want of principle for his entire life. You are neither the first—nor the last, I fear—to be taken in. I am only sorry for the tender sentiments he created.”
“My heart has not been touched by Mr. Wickham.” Her voice was a whisper.
Mr. Darcy nodded but was silent.
“I was surprised when you offered to visit my relations. Mr. Bingley, I hope, will have no tro
uble calling on Jane in such a part of London after you tell him she is there. Jane’s love for Mr. Bingley is as strong as it was in November, and I am sure Mr. Bingley’s feelings are the same. She has been pining for him. They would have been wed by now but for your interference, though perhaps you regret it now. Theirs is a love you should emulate whenever you really fall in love as I suspect resentment and embarrassment have driven away the brief regard for me that, for so long, you did not wish to acknowledge.”
Mr. Darcy had stopped walking. He stared at her, mouth slightly open and with no small amount of anger in his eyes. This was not the manner in which he normally looked at her; she noticed the strong difference. He swiftly crossed the distance between them and stood closer to her than propriety would allow.
“The serenity of your sister’s countenance in her every interaction with my friend led me to believe that her heart was not touched! And how can you argue that Bingley would certainly have married your sister? He was persuaded to leave because he relied more upon my judgment than his own. Did he once call at Longbourn to see your sister? Is that the behavior of a man ready to offer his hand?
“Their affection was out of the growth of a few weeks in which they were in mixed company. You and I spent those weeks in similar activities with the addition of several rousing debates while we resided in the same house. Yet you distrust that I formed an enduring attachment even though we also spent weeks in the same neighborhood here and walked through the park nearly every morning in each other’s company! Bingley is often in and out of love, whereas I—”
Mr. Darcy broke off, likely noticing her open jaw and astonished look. He had a subtle fire of passion that pushed beyond his natural reserve. It was a considerable shock. He did love me; for all of his faults and style of address, Mr. Darcy did love me! In one moment, she had the precious certainty of being loved and, in the next, the realization that it must now be lost to her forever. While she was realizing the depth of his character for the first time, he shuttered his outraged expression and resumed his usual serious countenance.