by Jann Rowland
Mr. Darcy stopped with an abruptness that startled Elizabeth, and she turned to look at him with confusion.
“Mr. Collins is your relation?” asked he. There was a certain incredulous quality to his voice which Elizabeth could not quite understand. “Mr. Collins of Hunsford in Kent, the rector to Lady Catherine de Bourgh of Rosings Park?”
A slight frisson of unease worked its way up Elizabeth’s spine. Was the lady known to Mr. Darcy?
“That is what we have been led to believe, sir.”
A broad grin broke out on Mr. Darcy’s face. “In that case, I believe you will agree that we have been beset by the most absurd coincidence, Miss Bennet, for Lady Catherine is my late mother’s eldest sister and, therefore, my own aunt.”
“Oh, Mr. Darcy,” cried Elizabeth, feeling embarrassed for having insulted the woman, “I must beg your pardon for speaking of your relation in so irreverent terms. I had not the slightest notion that such a connection existed.”
“Nor should you have,” said Mr. Darcy in a gentle tone. “We have never spoken of our extended family, after all.”
“But I should not have spoken with such sarcastic disregard for another person,” said Elizabeth. “My uncle has always said that my unguarded tongue would one day cause me no end of trouble, and it appears that he was right.”
More than anything, Elizabeth feared the end of Mr. Darcy’s approbation. His opinion of her had become that important.
“Perhaps it is as you say,” agreed he, though his lips still twitched as though he were trying to suppress a smile, “but if you actually knew the lady, then you would understand that your supposition is actually not far short of the truth. Lady Catherine is as overbearing as she is convinced of her own infallibility. My cousin Fitzwilliam and I visit her every spring, but it is due to family duty and the need to curb her extravagant ways rather than due to any affection, I assure you. She is tyrannical to everyone within reach of her influence, and her family is not immune from her controlling ways. At least, she likes to believe that she can dominate us all. To keep the peace within the family, the rest of us simply allow her to have her say.
“And as for Mr. Collins, I met the man the last time my cousin and I visited Kent. He was newly installed as the cleric in Hunsford and seemed exceedingly grateful to have been so noticed, I assure you.”
This time, it was Elizabeth’s turn to laugh. “I suppose that it is every family’s lot to have at least one relation who is a less than admirable one. Mine is silly, while yours is a gorgon.”
“I would never dispute that,” replied Mr. Darcy. “Lady Catherine fits that description so well that I wonder if you have not actually made the lady’s acquaintance ere now.”
“I assure you that I feel as if I have,” said Elizabeth, “for Mr. Collins has spoken almost incessantly of the lady since his arrival, and I believe I know more of the lady’s preferences than she does herself!”
Together, they laughed and then fell into a companionable silence, and Elizabeth was forced to consider how much more agreeable the intelligent and gentlemanly Mr. Darcy was than the absurd Mr. Collins.
They walked on for some time, and though Elizabeth occasionally made a few comments, Mr. Darcy’s replies were brief. He appeared to have something important on his mind, and though Elizabeth sensed that he was not upset with her or their conversation, she wished that the amiable Mr. Darcy would make another appearance.
Just as Elizabeth had decided that she needed to return to Longbourn, Mr. Darcy halted and turned to regard her. Elizabeth stopped and looked at him, and her breath caught in her throat. Mr. Darcy was looking at her with such seriousness, with such affectionate intensity, that Elizabeth fancied she could see his heart in his scrutiny. And what she saw there did not displease her; in fact, she was in that instance convinced that Jane was about to be proven correct in her estimation of Mr. Darcy’s intentions toward her.
“Miss Bennet, I have debated with myself, trying to understand my feelings and having little luck deciphering them. I have always thought that regard—true, deep, abiding regard—was the work of many months in which those involved grew to understand one another, learned each other’s preferences, and developed the kind of love which would sustain them throughout the entirety of their lives.
“You have completely upset a lifetime of such sureties, Miss Bennet, and you did it so effortlessly that I found myself wondering how it could have come to pass.”
Elizabeth knew that she should be embarrassed at his words of admiration, but in reality, she found that she was anticipating his words so much that there was no room left for embarrassment. Their acquaintance had been of short duration, but she knew that her feelings for this tall, handsome man were in no way anything less than a perfect match for the feelings he possessed for her. It was a heady feeling, and she almost felt as if she could fly.
“I think I have found the answer.” Mr. Darcy paused and smiled. “Or perhaps it is correct to say that I have found an answer. The answer I have found is that it truly does not matter. I have come to feel for you such a strong regard and respect that I can no longer question how it has come to be.
“All my life, I have striven to live up to my parents’ examples, and one of those was their example of matrimony. They had the closest of relationships, Miss Bennet, and when my mother passed away after a long illness, my father was left a shell of a man. Until that time, Pemberley’s halls were filled with love and devotion, and I believe that if we should wed, they will be filled with such again.
“May I have the great honor of a courtship with you, so that we might become further acquainted? I assure you that my intentions are most honorable. I mean to follow this through to its natural conclusion, a fact which I shall make clear to your father when I ask his permission to court you.”
His mention of her father was like a bucket of cold water poured over her head. Mr. Bennet did not appear to care one way or another what happened to her, but a little niggling fear suggested that he would not be happy with such a development.
But surely he would not think to refuse a man such as Mr. Darcy! Indeed, he would be foolish if he did. Furthermore, Elizabeth could not but imagine that her parents would be glad to be rid of her and to know that Mr. Darcy, being a creature of duty, would be in a position to ensure that Mrs. Bennet was cared for after Mr. Bennet’s death. Certainly there was much benefit in her making such an alliance.
That her mother would disdain her and be angry that she could attract such a man to offer for her, Elizabeth did not doubt. But the woman would not scorn a connection which would be of such a boon to her own situation.
Still, Mr. Darcy could not be allowed to approach her father without any inclination of the truth of the matter of her past. To allow him to do so would be unconscionable, and any affection he felt for her could potentially be killed when he inevitably learned the truth. And though she was fearful for his reaction, Elizabeth made the decision in that instant to explain the matter to him in full.
“I thank you for your heartfelt statements, and I accept them and your offer with pleasure, sir.” Elizabeth smiled at him, a gesture which he returned with equal fervor. “I cannot explain what has occurred between us any more than you can. But I have felt drawn to you from the time of our first meeting outside the inn. I am more than sensible of the great honor you do me, and I wish to inform you that I, too, wish to have a marriage based on true respect, affection, and love. I will endeavor to learn these things with you, sir, and I give you my word that I will strive to make you proud of me as your life partner, should such an event come to pass.”
“I wish for nothing more, Miss Bennet,” said Mr. Darcy, reaching down to take her hand within his. His hands were large and callused in places, but soft and gentle, and she immediately felt as if her hand was the most precious item he had ever held.
“Thank you, sir,” said Elizabeth, her cheeks feeling as though they would burst. “But I feel that I must inform you, sir, that my f
ather’s blessing may not be easy to obtain.”
“He would refuse me?” asked Mr. Darcy. Though his tone was even, Elizabeth could sense a hint of incredulous disbelief. It was an echo of a trace of arrogance which Elizabeth knew was part of his character, though it was by no means a defining characteristic. She smiled, thinking that if such a minor defect were the price to pay for such incandescent happiness, then she would gladly pay it a thousand times over.
“I do not believe he would,” replied Elizabeth. “Yet he may not be happy about it.”
Elizabeth struggled for a moment, uncertain how to phrase what she knew she must tell him. After a moment, she gave up trying to make it sound like anything other than what it was.
“I am certain you must have noticed that the situation in my family is . . . difficult.”
“I would have had to have been blind not to notice,” was Mr. Darcy’s wry reply.
“There is a reason for it. You must understand, Mr. Darcy, that I am not close to any of my family members. There was a reason for my living in London these past ten years.”
“Miss Bennet,” said Mr. Darcy, interrupting her and drawing her eyes to his compassionate face. “Is this something which would in any way prevent our coming to an understanding?”
“I . . . I do not think so, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth. “But it might affect your understanding of me.”
“You make it sound so ominous,” teased Mr. Darcy. He smiled for a moment before her distress appeared to sober him.
“Unless there is some very dark secret of your past, I doubt there is anything which could affect my opinion of you, Miss Bennet. But for now, I believe that the hour is getting late, and you had best be returning to your home. Shall we leave such grave discussions for some other time? Perhaps the morrow, after I speak to your father, would be a more appropriate time?”
Elizabeth looked at him with wonder. She imagined that most men would immediately demand an accounting upon hearing of the existence of such an ominous secret regarding her family, yet Mr. Darcy seemed to shrug it off. It seemed as if his regard for her trumped all other considerations, even that of an event he had, as yet, no knowledge of. A warmth filled Elizabeth—this man was truly the best of men.
“Then let us speak of it then.”
They turned and began to make their way back to Longbourn, making easy conversation about nothing in particular. Later, when the storms overtook Elizabeth’s life, she would look back on this time as that of an idyllic interlude, one to be cherished and stored up against the adversity which was to come. When they finally came within close proximity of the estate, Mr. Darcy halted their progress and turned to Elizabeth.
“I shall call on you tomorrow and speak with your father. I believe it best that your family does not learn that we were alone together without a chaperone. May I call during normal visiting hours?”
“You may, Mr. Darcy,” replied Elizabeth. “And I thank you for your care and attention to my reputation.”
“It is only proper, Miss Bennet,” said he, “loath though I am to part from you.”
He then took her hand tenderly in his own and bestowed a kiss upon its back, his lips lingering against her gloved hand for some time. He then pulled away and favored her with an easy smile.
“Until tomorrow, Miss Bennet.”
And all at once, he mounted his horse and departed, but not before looking at her with such longing and devotion that Elizabeth’s heart almost stopped beating. In a daze, Elizabeth turned and began to make her way to the house, her mind and heart full of Mr. Darcy.
Unfortunately, Elizabeth’s euphoria could not survive the return to her childhood home. From her family, nothing was said about her extended absence from the house, though Jane looked at her askance and Mr. Bennet with a raised brow. Elizabeth, however, acknowledged none of this—except for Jane, everyone in Elizabeth’s family had such a disregard for her feelings and well-being that she did not feel obliged to account for her actions or to apologize for causing worry, if such was even possible.
Mr. Collins was another story. After she refreshed herself in her room and entered the parlor, the parson had approached her, an expression of reproach etched across his countenance.
“That was poorly done, Miss Elizabeth,” said he without preamble. “I would expect a recalcitrant child to go off without regard to their elders, but I would not have thought it of a young lady of almost twenty years. And to have caused your dear family to worry so acutely for your well-being . . . Well, let us just say that such behavior will not be tolerated.”
“Mr. Collins,” said Elizabeth, who was in no humor to listen to his reprimands, “I believe that you have no say over my behavior.”
“No say over your behavior?” sputtered Mr. Collins. “How can you say such a thing?”
“I believe that as I am living under my father’s roof, he is the one who holds the responsibility for me. You are nothing more than a cousin, Mr. Collins. You had best remember that.”
Outrage bloomed in his eyes, and Elizabeth wondered at his reaction. What could the man possibly be thinking? Bewildered, Elizabeth watched as he turned to Mr. Bennet and said: “What have you to say about such impertinence, cousin?”
“Elizabeth, I will speak to you in my bookroom,” said Mr. Bennet, ignoring the parson. “Now.”
“Mr. Bennet—” began Mr. Collins, but he was cut off by a harsh glare from the Bennet patriarch and subsided, albeit somewhat sulkily.
Elizabeth did not know what to think. She had not been called into her father’s study since her return to Longbourn. As Mr. Bennet departed the room, Elizabeth glanced at the parson, only to see him flop into a chair and regard her with some peevishness.
All at once, an unpleasant suspicion welled up in Elizabeth’s mind, and she stared at the parson with chagrin. Her father could not possibly be thinking of betrothing her to the imbecilic Mr. Collins, could he? The very notion that she would consent to wasting herself on such an odious man was in every way unthinkable! Besides, he was already betrothed!
“Now, Elizabeth!” her father’s stern command echoed through the open door.
With great reluctance, Elizabeth stood and made her way from the room, but not before she caught a glimpse of Mr. Collins’s insufferable smile, which was fairly dripping with smugness. Praying that her father would merely reprimand her for speaking so to his cousin, Elizabeth departed the room and entered her father’s study.
Previously, Elizabeth had never had anything more than a brief glimpse through the occasionally open door of her father’s study. As she entered it now, she looked around with some distraction, unable to take much in given the apprehension she was feeling. Her father sat in an old chair which appeared to have seen better days, and though his eyes did not betray any more emotion that Elizabeth had come to expect, they were fixed upon her with an almost pitiless sort of implacability.
The man was silent for a few moments, regarding her, weighing her person and her character, Elizabeth thought, and though she could not say for a certainty just how keen his powers of observation were, she felt as if her secrets and feelings were being ripped from her and laid on the desk for his perusal.
But she refused to be intimidated by her father. He was only a man, and whatever purpose he had in calling her into his room, he would find that she would not simply acquiesce to his schemes like a dog begging for a scrap. Her time with her uncle and aunt had given her more backbone than that!
“You should be at no loss to understand why I have called you in here,” said Mr. Bennet, finally breaking the silence.
“Indeed, sir, you are mistaken,” replied Elizabeth, holding her chin up high. “I am quite unable to account for your actions. If you are concerned for my behavior toward your guest, then I assure you that I did not intend to be rude.”
“Perhaps you should be more respectful toward your future husband.”
All at once, tears welled up in Elizabeth’s eyes, and she cried, “No!”
But Mr. Bennet’s stare was pitiless and unyielding. “You will marry Mr. Collins, Elizabeth. I have already promised you to him.”
Chapter XV
Elizabeth’s mind worked desperately, trying to determine how she should act. Of one thing, she was certain: her spirit would be crushed as Mr. Collins’s wife. She had no doubt that her days would be miserable. And the thought of submitting to marital duties with the man . . .
No, it could not be. Every part of her cried out with abhorrence at the very thought of being so intimately connected with such a man. She would not do it.
“I will not marry him,” said Elizabeth in a quiet voice.
Mr. Bennet’s eyes pierced right through her, and though his countenance did not change one iota, the depths of his eyes became all that much stormier. He did not say a word, however; he simply sat in his chair, looking at her, as though the very force of his will would compel her to comply.
The silence was unbearable, and Elizabeth filled it. “I know that you have the measure of the man, father. You know that he is in every way ridiculous. He is imbecilic, his opinions make no sense, he flatters that patroness of his as though she were the queen of England, and his personal hygiene is suspect. You would be condemning me to a life of misery and degradation with such a husband.”
“And did you not condemn your mother and sisters to such a life with your actions?” queried Mr. Bennet.
Elizabeth huffed impatiently. “I know not how you can still blame me for what happened. No reasonable person could hold me accountable.”
“That is a matter of opinion.”
“Then you may have your opinion. I shall not be moved. I will not marry Mr. Collins.”
Mr. Bennet leaned forward and fixed her with his stare, his countenance shifting into an expression which was truly forbidding. “You will marry Mr. Collins, Elizabeth, and you will marry him soon. You have been the one to ruin this family’s prospects. Thus, it falls to you to repair them. Marriage to Mr. Collins would provide a home for your mother and any unmarried sisters should I predecease your mother.”