Darcy and Elizabeth What If? Collection 4

by Jennifer Lang

  ‘Do you mean you performed the full ceremony?’ demanded Mr Darcy.

  ‘I am afraid I did,’ said Mr Pike in a whisper. ‘You are now man and wife.’

  There was a stunned silence.

  Then Mr Darcy spoke.

  ‘This cannot be,’ he said. ‘There must be something you can do.’

  Colonel Fitzwilliam, looking less aghast than the others, shook his head.

  ‘If you are married, you are married,’ he said.

  ‘No!’ said Elizabeth vehemently.

  ‘Believe me, madam, I like it no more than you do,’ said Mr Darcy haughtily.

  ‘We must get an annulment,’ said Elizabeth with decision.

  ‘It would certainly be possible,’ gulped Mr Pike.

  ‘But not the act of a gentleman,’ said Colonel Fitzwilliam. He turned to Elizabeth, explaining, ‘If there was an annulment, there would also be gossip and I fear your reputation would be ruined.’

  ‘No one knows of the marriage. No one expect the few of us gathered here,’ said Elizabeth defiantly. ‘There can be no gossip if no one knows about it.’

  ‘I am afraid it is already too late for that,’ said Colonel Fitzwilliam.

  He gestured towards the lich gate, where a group of villagers had already gathered. The sexton was busy telling them all about the wedding, and how he had played the organ and his apprentice had pumped the bellows. The apprentice was making the most of his moment of glory, and adding details of how the gentry had looked, and the way the bride and groom had looked into each others’ eyes, and how pretty the bride’s attendant was, and how the daffodils had come from the churchyard, and any other detail that would allow him to bask in another second of approval.

  Mr Darcy turned towards her. With a voice that could have frozen the sun, said, ‘Congratulations, madam. You have achieved your goal – we will say nothing of the means by which you achieved it – and you are now the wife of Mr Darcy.’

  Chapter Six

  ‘And just what do you mean by that?’ demanded Elizabeth.

  ‘I mean that your mother would be proud of you,’ he said icily. ‘You have proved yourself to be her true daughter after all. She was determined to catch a wealthy man for her children and you have achieved her goal.’

  Elizabeth was about to make a cutting retort, when Colonel Fitzwilliam touched her arm and drew her attention to the onlookers.

  ‘Whatever your feelings, it will be better to continue this discussion elsewhere,’ he said softly.

  Elizabeth saw the sense of this. She did not want her private quarrel with Mr Darcy to be open to spectators, or to become a source of local gossip. As yet, the spectators were not close enough to hear, but they were drawing closer in order to congratulate the happy couple.

  ‘I suggest we return to Rosings, where we can continue this discussion in private.’

  ‘Hardly private, with Lady Catherine and her retinue there,’ remarked Elizabeth perceptively.

  ‘Nevertheless, it is our best option,’ said Colonel Fitzwilliam. ‘The parsonage is too small to allow of a private conversation, but there are many unused rooms at Rosings and I will undertake to occupy Lady Catherine so that she does not disturb you.’

  This was such a generous offer that Elizabeth put her anger and despair aside for the moment in order to thank him.

  ‘Darcy?’ said Colonel Fitzwilliam.

  Mr Darcy inclined his head in an arrogant fashion.

  ‘Very well,’ he said.

  ‘Miss Lucas, Sir William, can I rely on you to say nothing of this at the parsonage?’

  They promised to remain silent.

  ‘Good. And you, of course, will say nothing of this either,’ he said to Mr Pike.

  ‘You may rely on me,’ said Mr Pike in hushed tones.

  He was responsible for the whole business, although it was not entirely his fault, and he was anxious to make whatever amends lay in his power.

  ‘Then I suggest we depart,’ said Colonel Fitzwilliam.

  Elizabeth was only too happy to comply with this suggestion. She allowed Colonel Fitzwilliam to hand her into the carriage and they all shared an uncomfortable journey back to the parsonage, where Maria and Sir William left them. Then Colonel Fitzwilliam, Elizabeth and Mr Darcy drove back to Rosings in stony silence.

  The carriage pulled up outside the grand house and one of the footmen let down the step. Mr Darcy rudely climbed out of the carriage first and it was left to Colonel Fitzwilliam to gesture politely, with a smile, that Elizabeth should go before him. She thanked him. As she did so, she could not help hearing her mother’s voice in her head, and for once in her life she found herself agreeing with something her mother had said: “That is my idea of good breeding; and those persons who fancy themselves very important and never open their mouths, quite mistake the matter.”

  She followed Mr Darcy into the house. She had thought she could never be more out of sympathy with him than when he had wounded her sister and blighted the prospects of Mr Wickham, but his despicable suggestion that she had planned this situation made her almost speechless with anger.

  They went into the house, where the servants took their outdoor things, and Colonel Fitzwilliam enquired after Lady Catherine.

  ‘Her ladyship is writing letters in the small sitting room,’ came the reply.

  Colonel Fitzwilliam expressed his intention of joining her there and asked the servant to conduct him to her, leaving Mr Darcy and Elizabeth alone in the hall.

  Mr Darcy turned to Elizabeth and said to her curtly, ‘I will speak to you in the drawing-room, Madam.’

  Elizabeth’s spirit rose at this. If he thought he could make her wilt by speaking to her as if she were a servant he was very much mistaken. Every attempt to diminish her only made Elizabeth stronger, for she rose to the challenge with courage and decision. She had no intention of being browbeaten and if Mr Darcy thought she would be easily cowed then he was very much mistaken.

  ‘If you wish to speak to me, you will find me in the library,’ she returned boldly.

  She left him no chance to argue but instead she walked across the hall with a firm step and went into the library. It was a beautiful room but Elizabeth saw none of its glories, for she was too angry with Mr Darcy to notice her surroundings.

  He followed her into the room and shut the door behind him. His expression was haughty and his manner was rude. Before Elizabeth had a chance to open her mouth, let alone say a word, he remarked, ‘You no doubt think I can be tricked into accepting you as my wife, but you are very much mistaken.’

  ‘I would not be your wife if you were the last man in the world!’ she retorted. ‘Do you think that anything could ever make me marry the man who had caused such misery to my sister? To suggest that I have deliberately tricked you into a marriage which is as hateful to me as it can possible be to you is absurd. Through no fault of my own, I find myself tied to an overbearing, rude and conceited man who has ruined the happiness of my sister. A man who has also reduced to poverty an estimable young gentleman who relied upon him to behave in a decent and honourable fashion by giving him the living that was owed to him.’

  ‘What do you know of that?’ demanded Mr Darcy.

  ‘A great deal,’ said Elizabeth. ‘I had the pleasure of getting to know Mr Wickham in Meryton, where he behaved with gentleness, politeness and decorum, making himself well liked by all who knew him. He confided in me the particulars of his dealings with you and revealed you to be a cold-hearted, disdainful man who was obsessed with his own position in the world and had no respect for the feelings of others.’

  ‘And this is your opinion of me?’ asked Mr Darcy incredulously. Then he gathered himself and said, ‘But no. This is just a ruse to convince me that you did not plan the travesty at the church; that you did not work the whole thing out beforehand so that you could marry me!’

  Elizabeth’s eyes widened in astonishment and she said, ‘Have you run mad? I think you must have done. I would not marry you for a
kingdom, let alone Pemberley, and yet you have the affrontery to suggest that I wanted it to happen; nay that I organised it! How can you have come by such a monstrous delusion?’

  ‘You know very well,’ he returned. ‘Your friend Mrs Collins aided and abetted you, and Mr Collins was persuaded to play his part by feigning illness, so that another rector would have to be sent for. The Rev Mr Pike was not told of the true state of affairs and so he conducted the wedding service in all good faith and your dream of becoming Mrs Darcy came to pass.’

  ‘My dream?’ demanded Elizabeth. ‘My dream? It is more like a nightmare. With every word you show yourself to be more obnoxious, more arrogant and more disdainful of the feelings than others than I would have thought possible, as well as more stupid – yes, more stupid! Even supposing I colluded with Mr and Mrs Collins for him to feign illness – an infamous suggestion, and one that no gentleman would even think, let alone utter - even supposing this to be true, which of course it is not, how do you suppose I managed to hide the truth from the Rev Mr Pike? It was not I who sent for him, but your cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam. And how do you suggest I arranged for Miss Anne de Bourgh to fall ill so that I would have to take her place? Even supposing these things to be possible – which no one but a fool would ever believe - how do you think I persuaded Lady Catherine to choose me to take Anne’s place, when she could just as easily have chosen Miss Lucas, Mrs Collins or Mrs Jenkinson? Or, indeed, when she could have decided to postpone the rehearsal until Miss de Bourgh was well again? From what little I have seen of Lady Catherine, I judge her to be the least persuadable woman in the world.’

  She could tell he was taken aback by the strength of her attack and she was pleased to see him looking uncertain, so she pressed her advantage.

  ‘You see, do you not, the ridiculousness of your suggestion?’

  But he quickly rallied and mounted an attack of his own.

  ‘Do you deny that you are now Mrs Darcy?’ he demanded.

  ‘I do not see how I can deny it, when the Rev Mr Pike reliably informs me it is so,’ she returned.

  ‘And do you deny that your mother wanted to catch wealthy husbands for you and your sisters?’

  ‘I do not,’ she replied boldly. ‘But do you deny that my mother treated you with contempt, despite your vast wealth? And do you deny that she showed no inclination whatsoever for “catching you”, as you so charmingly put it, for me, or indeed anyone else?’

  He looked astonished that she should answer him so, with such spirit and such unassailable logic..

  ‘Yes, Mr Darcy, you must admit it. You are not universally liked and courted. There are people in this world who do not think that your wealth and your position justifies your rude and contemptible behaviour. They do not think it justifies you in destroying the hopes of other people; of separating two young people who were happy together, exposing one to the censure of the world for caprice and instability, and the other to its derision for disappointed hopes, and involving them both in misery of the acutest kind. I am one of those people, Mr Darcy. I do not think your wealth and position justify you in trampling on the hopes and dreams of other people. I despise you, Mr Darcy, and I want nothing from you except your assurance that you will remedy this appalling situation as quickly as possible. There are very few people who know if this horrible marriage. Of those few people, most are friends or relatives who will never speak of it, whilst those who witnessed us coming out of the church will no doubt forget about it when we are removed from the neighbourhood; particularly when your true marriage to Miss Anne de Bourgh takes place. No scandal will attach to your name, whatever happens, even if word of it leaks out and gossip about our annulment follows; for such is the justice of our present society that a woman must take all the punishment for a shared scandal, and a man must take none at all. But I am prepared to take it. I am prepared to bear anything, just as long as I can be free of any connection with you.’

  Mr Darcy looked stunned. For a moment he did not move or speak; indeed, he looked incapable of ever moving or speaking again.

  ‘Silent, Mr Darcy?’ asked Elizabeth provokingly. ‘Is your arrogance unequal to the task of proving something wholly ridiculous, and must you now admit that you were wrong and that your abominable assertions were entirely without foundation and unpardonably rude?’

  Mr Darcy had by now recovered himself and he was not to be so easily vanquished.

  ‘I must do nothing of the kind,’ he returned, with that haughty arrogance which aroused Elizabeth’s desire to give him a sharp set-down. ‘My suspicions were just,’ he continued. ‘I am not convinced, despite your words, that they were – or, indeed, are – unjust.’

  Elizabeth saw no point in further argument, since he was determined to be unreasonable. Instead she raised her eyebrows and said, ‘Do you know what it means to be a gentleman, Mr Darcy? It is not just a matter of living in a fine house and wearing fine clothes and possessing a fine fortune. Manners must also be a part of it. I suggest you take lessons from your cousin for he, at least, seems to understand what the word means.’

  He flinched, and she saw that her words had stung. It seemed that she had finally penetrated his armour of self satisfaction and shown him to himself in a less than flattering light. She was glad of it. He had insulted her in the most terrible manner and it was right that he should feel ashamed.

  ‘And now, if you will excuse me,’ she continued with icy politeness, ‘I must return to the parsonage, for Mr Collins is ill and Mrs Collins might need my help.’

  She moved towards the door but he did not move out of her path. She raised her head and looked at him in a challenging manner. Then he stepped aside, and Elizabeth, with her head held high, walked out of the room.

  Mr Darcy experienced a mixture of unaccustomed feelings surging through him as Elizabeth shut the door with a sharp click behind her. He had never before been spoken to like that. He was surrounded by people who flattered him and fawned on him. Miss Bingley was just one of a number of women who admired everything about him, from his handwriting to his fine person. Yet Miss Elizabeth Bennet seemed sincere in her desire to be rid of him, even though she found herself, by extraordinary circumstances, married to him.

  He imagined Miss Bingley’s reaction in a similar situation. She would not suggest an annulment. Indeed, if he suggested it, she would no doubt cry out that she was being abominably used and that he must not think of such a thing, for the sake of her reputation. And then, as a gentleman, he would have been well and truly trapped.

  A gentleman.

  That phrase meant so many things to so many people. To Miss Bingley it meant a fine house, fine clothes and a fine fortune. To Miss Elizabeth Bennet, it meant something more.

  He found himself thinking, unwillingly, that if Miss Elizabeth Bennet had not forced him into this situation – or, to be fair, if events had not forced him into this situation, because now that he thought the matter over calmly and rationally he saw that she could not have arranged so many different things in order to bring the present situation about – if he had not been forced into this situation, and if her station in life had not been so inferior, and if her relatives had not been so vulgar, then Miss Elizabeth Bennet was exactly the kind of woman he would really like to marry. She was bold and courageous and outspoken where she knew herself to be right. She was not easily crushed or cowed. She had a strong sense of right and wrong, and she did not allow herself to be swayed by wealth or position. If Miss Elizabeth Bennet liked a man – if Miss Elizabeth Bennet loved a man, he thought more softly – then that man would know he was liked, or loved, for himself.

  This released a tension inside him that he had carried for a long time. Everywhere he went, everyone he met reacted to him as Mr Darcy of Pemberley. It had taken Elizabeth Bennet – for this was how he still thought of her, despite her now being Elizabeth Darcy - to react to him as Fitzwilliam.

  His whole body relaxed. The rigid set of his shoulders dissolved into something softer, and th
e hard and uncompromising lines of his face became more gentle. Would it be possible for him to remain married to Miss Elizabeth Bennet? Could he overlook her family’s shortcomings and accept the situation. Might he not, if things had gone otherwise, proposed to her anyway? He thought that yes, he might. Perhaps he would have walked down to the parsonage one evening and proposed marriage to this unsettling, unpredictable, unconventional and bewitching young woman.

  But then he shook his head. Even if he accepted the situation and wanted the marriage to stand, Miss Elizabeth had told him most clearly that she would not marry him if he was the last man in the world, and that she wanted an annulment.

  He sank down into a comfortable wing-backed chair. Life was very strange. He had proposed to Miss Anne de Bourgh with the intention of removing any possibility of him ever loving Elizabeth, or making the mis-step of proposing to her. But by the very act of formalising the engagement between Anne and himself, he had put in motion a series of events which had led to him marrying Elizabeth.

  Was it inevitable? Did all paths lead to this point, as all the paths around the rose garden at Pemberley led to the summer house? Could it really be that Miss Elizabeth Bennet was his destiny?

  If so, he had much work ahead of him. He had to woo her and win her and show her that he was not the arrogant and disdainful person she took him for. He had to put right the wrong he had done to her sister, and he had to address the issue of George Wickham.

  The first was easy, but the latter was more difficult. For in the case of George Wickham, he was not in the wrong.

  He shook his head slowly. He did not know if he could, or even should, do anything about it. The previous day he had looked ahead with certainty, being sure of the future. Now it was in flux. He did not usually like uncertainty. But he was beginning to think that it might be exhilarating. For, with Elizabeth as the reward, the uncertainty was worth it.