by Jann Rowland
“Even after I was clear that she should not expect the alliance in the future?”
Anne raised an eyebrow. “Do you really believe that would deter her?”
Shaking his head, with as much amusement as disgust, Darcy returned his focus to the purpose for his arrival. “I am actually here for an entirely different reason, Anne. And it is one which your mother will not like in the slightest.”
“Do tell,” replied Anne with a twinkle in her eye. “While I can think of many things of which she would not approve, there are only a handful which would result in her immediate and loud displeasure.”
“And this is one of them.” Darcy was not trying to be grim, but he was well aware of how Lady Catherine would ultimately view his errand once it became known to her, and he fully expected that the confrontation which would ensue would make their argument that spring seem like lovers’ murmurings in comparison.
“Tell me, Anne, have you heard anything concerning the new wife of your mother’s parson?”
“What can Mr. Collins have to do with your arrival?” asked Anne.
“Please humor me.”
Though Anne looked on him with suspicion, she did not demur. “They only arrived at the parsonage yesterday, as I understand.” Her expression became positively mischievous as she continued, “Of course, this is all very incomprehensible, as to the best of my knowledge he was not engaged when he left Hunsford four days ago. That seems a little too precipitous even for a marriage based on a compromise, though Mr. Collins is certainly stupid enough to compromise a young lady without even realizing what had occurred.”
“This is no compromise,” said Darcy though clenched teeth, his indignation rising. “In fact, Miss Elizabeth—for I will not deign to refer to her by that odious man’s name—was forced to marry her cousin by her father. And this only the day after I requested to court her.”
“I think you had best explain, cousin. This begins to sound like a novel.”
Nodding, Darcy did just that, explaining the circumstances of the last several days, watching for a reaction from his cousin. There was none. Anne was just as capable of hiding herself behind an inscrutable wall as he was himself.
“That is quite the tale, Darcy,” said Anne once he had finished. “And though I would not cast aspersions on your young lady, I am afraid I must echo her father’s sentiments. Why did she not speak of her understanding with you in an effort to save herself? I would think that marriage to you would be an inducement enough to ensure that her father would refrain from forcing her to go forward with his schemes.”
“Not from what Mr. Bennet himself told me,” replied Darcy. “The man was set on the match.”
“I cannot believe that he would have persisted in light of the advantages you would have brought to such a marriage. Beyond the obvious monetary benefits, introducing her sisters to a much higher level of society would have increased their chances of a good match. Surely he could not have ignored that.
“Regardless, you have not answered my question. Why did Mrs. Collins not speak to her father of your proposal?”
Darcy scowled, but Anne seemed unimpressed by his displeasure, merely regarding him with an imperious glare. It was quite similar to her mother’s, though he would not voice such an unflattering comparison to her.
“I do not know,” said Darcy. “I mean to have an accounting from her as to her reasons for staying silent.”
“What do you think?” pressed Anne.
“I believe that it might have been due to a misguided attempt to resolve her own problems,” said Darcy. “Or perhaps she simply did not expect it to sway her father.”
Anne was silent for a few moments, considering the matter. “What do you mean to accomplish by coming here?” asked Anne. “Since the marriage has already taken place, there is nothing more you can do.”
“You do not know Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” replied Darcy. Anne looked pointedly at him at the use of the woman’s maiden name, but Darcy ignored it. “She is as intelligent as Collins is obtuse. I doubt very much that she has submitted to him.”
“But still, annulments are granted so infrequently—”
“Leave that to me. I believe there are enough irregularities concerning this sham of a marriage that a case may be made for its dissolution.”
At that moment, the door opened, and Lady Catherine strode into the room. Her appearance was a little wild, no doubt due to the fact that she had just alighted from a carriage, but more because of the almost feral grin with which she regarded him. It brought to mind his fanciful thoughts of her as a spider, weaving her webs to entrap small insects in her domain. She would soon find out that he was more wasp than house fly.
“So, you have finally returned,” said Lady Catherine, her tone one of insolent triumph. “It has taken you longer to come to your senses than I would have thought, Darcy, but I always knew you would come around to my way of thinking. Rosings is too great a prize for you to ignore.”
Darcy could almost hear Anne’s soft snort, and though he was angered by his aunt’s reference to the estate being more important and of greater worth than the person of his cousin, Anne was obviously accustomed to such language from her mother.
“Lady Catherine,” said Darcy as he rose to his feet and executed the barest hint of a bow. “I apologize for arriving unannounced.”
“Never mind that,” was his aunt’s dismissive reply. “This is a momentous occasion indeed.”
“It is nothing more than a friendly visit to my cousin and aunt,” replied Darcy with a significant glance at Anne.
Lady Catherine did not miss the glance, and though she obviously did not understand what it signified, she was not about to miss the opportunity to try to induce him into offering for her daughter.
“Well, since you are here now, you must stay for a month complete. In fact, if you are to be here, you may as well send for Georgiana and stay for Christmas. It would behoove her to become accustomed to Anne’s presence.”
Darcy was not about to be drawn into this discussion yet again. “Georgiana is busy in London at present with her companion. It is our plan to spend Christmas at Pemberley as usual.”
A wicked gleam appeared in Lady Catherine’s eye. “That is probably for the best.”
She did not say anything further, but Darcy knew exactly what her thoughts were. There was nothing to be done but to ignore her words. It did not take long before Darcy became weary of his aunt’s commentary, and as he was eager to devise a way to be in the company of Miss Elizabeth Bennet, he soon excused himself in the company of Anne, knowing it was about the only way his aunt would allow him out of her presence.
“Will you visit her at the parsonage?” asked Anne in a quiet voice as they quit the room.
“I believe it might be a little early for that,” replied Darcy. “I have only just arrived, and visiting hours are already past.”
Anne snorted. “I should think that a little impropriety would be worth saving your lady love from the clutches of her servile husband.”
Darcy had to acknowledge that she had a point.
“Besides, I doubt Mr. Collins would ever bar the august nephew of his lady patroness from his house, no matter the time of day or night, should he condescend to call.”
Making a face, Darcy nodded tightly. “I believe I shall walk out and try to determine the best method of approaching her.”
“Very well. But Darcy, a word of advice, if you will.” He turned to his cousin, only to see her watching him with a serious expression. “I would suggest you refrain from calling her Miss Elizabeth. Until you can prove otherwise, she is Mrs. Collins and should be addressed as such. You do not wish for my mother to guess your purpose here.”
Little though he liked it, Anne was right. It was distasteful to think of such a bright light connected in such a manner to that man, but he could not take the chance of Lady Catherine’s early displeasure.
“Agreed. If you will excuse me.”
“Go,
Darcy,” called Anne as he walked away. “I will distract my mother in your absence.”
And so Darcy left to meet the woman of his dreams, grateful that Anne and he were of one mind in this instance. He hated to think how much more difficult this would be if Anne had truly desired a proposal from him.
With Lady Catherine’s departure, nothing further was holding Elizabeth to the parsonage for the day. As the sun was shining and the day was fine, she determined to walk out so that she might avoid him for a little while. Mr. Collins’s work room was situated in a corner of the house which overlooked the road to Rosings, a circumstance which was undoubtedly beneficial to the parson, as he would have the first intelligence whenever Lady Catherine drove by. As the lady departed, Elizabeth, knowing that Lady Catherine would drive past that very room, immediately made herself scarce. It was child’s play to leave through the front door and depart in a direction where she would not be seen, the strands of trees surrounding the house hiding her escape. The air was brisk and Elizabeth immediately found herself at home on the grounds of Rosings.
Elizabeth had to acknowledge that Lady Catherine was mistress of a beautiful estate, not that the accident of birth which led to her being so situated credited her in the slightest. Still, the woods through which she walked were a delightful mix of beech, oak, and pine, and Elizabeth could not help but imagine the bounteous glory of the trees should they be crowned in their summer mantle.
She walked for some distance, reveling in the warm autumn air which was a blessing on such a day and thinking of her situation at present. The anger she had felt had largely subsided, and she was able to think more rationally than she had been able to the previous day.
In truth, she had no proof aside from her estimation of Mr. Darcy’s character that he would follow her to Kent. She still believed that he would, but she began to see that it might very difficult to extricate herself from this marriage if she had no outside assistance. Various thoughts and feelings flowed through her, from her the anger still present beneath the surface of her emotions to vague plans of what she would do should Mr. Darcy not come, the most outlandish of which was the thought of boarding a ship and fleeing to the Americas.
But it all turned out to be unnecessary, for as she moved around a bend in the path she was walking, there stood the man himself.
Mr. Darcy had obviously slept quite ill, and as she took in his less than immaculate condition, a feeling of utter longing and belonging welled up within her. Being with this man felt so right, so natural that any doubts she had had of his constancy were immediately banished from her mind. Elizabeth still could not state whether she loved him, but she was now well aware of the power he held over her, and she knew that she could easily come to love him, given the time and the opportunity.
It did not hurt that he gazed at her with such intensity. Elizabeth was certain that Mr. Darcy was just as affected by their meeting as she was.
“I had not thought to see you walking the grounds,” said he, his voice gravelly with emotion. Then his lips curved into a slight smile. “I suppose that I should have foreseen it, knowing what a great walker you are.”
“I think you may attribute my presence due more to a desire to avoid Mr. Collins than the desire for exercise,” replied Elizabeth.
Though Mr. Darcy’s countenance darkened at the mention of her supposed husband, he seemed to throw it off with effort. “Whatever the reason, I am grateful. I was pondering how I might gain an audience with you.”
Motioning to the path from whence he had come, Mr. Darcy waited until she began to walk, and then he fell into place next to her. Neither spoke for some time, but as they walked, they each took comfort in the presence of the other. Though Elizabeth longed for him to take her into his arms, to feel the comfort of his strength, she was mindful of the situation. In the eyes of society, she was still Mrs. William Collins, and as such, she could not be observed by others in the embrace of another man without utterly ruining both her reputation and Mr. Darcy’s. Discretion was called for.
“It was a most unwelcome surprise when your father told me you were already wed,” said Mr. Darcy after a few moments of walking.
“It was a most unpleasant surprise when I discovered my father’s intentions,” countered Elizabeth. “I tried to flee the night before, but my father anticipated me.”
Mr. Darcy turned his startled gaze on her. “You tried to flee?”
Blushing, Elizabeth nodded. “I had thought to go to Netherfield and throw myself on your mercy. If nothing else, my uncle’s staff would have let me in at his home in London, and they would have concealed my presence from my father, had it come to that.”
“Would it not simply have been better to tell your father that I had already requested a courtship?”
Elizabeth turned an unaffectedly astonished gaze at him. “He indicated that I had not told him?” At Mr. Darcy’s nod, Elizabeth shook her head and attempted to master her emotions. “I did tell him. He chose not to believe that such a thing was possible.”
“And then he lied to me,” said Mr. Darcy.
“It appears to be so.”
They walked on in silence for several more minutes before Mr. Darcy sighed and turned to her. “Miss Bennet, I find myself confused over this situation. Though parents often arrange marriages for their children, your father’s actions are astounding. Unless he has purchased a special license—something I judge unlikely—your marriage has not the sanction of the church. What can he be thinking?”
“Revenge,” was Elizabeth’s simple reply.
“I beg your pardon, Miss Bennet,” said he haltingly, “but may I ask—what do your parents have against you?”
Elizabeth would rather not have to tell him of her history, but she knew that it was imperative that she do so. Still, the thought of having his good opinion for one more night was appealing, and as the day grew long, she had much rather not chance tarnishing his image of her at the present.
“Mr. Darcy, can we wait until tomorrow for my confession? I believe it will be necessary for me to return to the parsonage very soon.”
The very mention of her return to Mr. Collins’s domain brought a scowl to his face. “I believe I would prefer to remove you from that man’s influence immediately.”
Elizabeth put a hand on his forearm for a brief moment in reassurance. “I am well able to manage the likes of William Collins, Mr. Darcy. This situation has the potential to be very difficult for us both. If you were to take me from what society sees as my lawfully wedded husband, the backlash would be immense.”
“Of course you speak the truth,” said Mr. Darcy, even as it was clear to see that he little liked the necessity. His expression then became apprehensive, and he turned to regard her with trepidation. “Have you . . . What I mean to say is . . .”
Elizabeth was confused, never having seen Mr. Darcy act in such a reticent manner.
“Miss Bennet,” said Mr. Darcy after a monumental internal struggle, “were you able to . . . manage Mr. Collins last night?”
At first, Elizabeth was confused, and then flashes of the previous evening illuminated her consciousness, and she blushed as Mr. Darcy’s meaning suddenly became clear to her.
“I was able to manage him quite well indeed,” said Elizabeth after taking a few moments to compose herself. “In fact, Mr. Collins awoke this morning with a rather severe indisposition. It seems he indulged in a little too much celebration over my father’s success in forcing me to the altar with a particularly fine vintage which Lady Catherine herself had recommended for our wedding night. Of course, I cannot confirm the quality of the wine myself, as I did not consume a drop.”
At that, Mr. Darcy burst out laughing in such a manner as Elizabeth had never seen from him before. She found that she quite liked it when he laughed—his face was transformed from its normally serious lines, and it rendered him uncommonly handsome when so changed.
“I should never have doubted you, Miss Bennet,” said Mr. Darcy, still chu
ckling to himself. “It appears as if you are able to handle the man masterfully. Do you have another bottle of the vintage on hand for tonight?”
“No,” said Elizabeth, “but I am already planning how to avoid him yet again. I dare say that Mr. Collins will find it quite difficult to consummate his marriage, though he has taken great pains to assure me that he is greatly anticipating connubial bliss.”
This time, Mr. Darcy’s response was pure disgust. “The man truly has no concept of proper behavior. To speak of such things openly with a maiden is the height of crassness.”
“Insensible, indeed,” murmured Elizabeth.
They walked on for several more moments, each lost in their own thoughts, until Elizabeth, taking stock of her surroundings, turned to Mr. Darcy.
“Loath though I am to return, I am certain I shall already incur Mr. Collins’s disapprobation for having left the parsonage at all. I believe that I had best return.”
“Then let me escort you to the nearest edge of the woods,” said Mr. Darcy, gesturing to a path which Elizabeth judged led back in the direction of Hunsford.
“What are your thoughts on ensuring this marriage is examined and rejected?” asked he once they were well on their way toward Hunsford.
“I hope that your presence indicates your willingness to assist?”
“You agreed to a courtship with me, Miss Bennet,” said Mr. Darcy with a pointed glance which seemed to pierce her to her very soul. “I am not a man who relinquishes that which I desire to anyone, least of all to one such as Mr. Collins. I believe that I see several instances in which ecclesiastical law has not been followed that would render this marriage invalid. I will do everything in my power to ensure that it is.”
Warmed by his words, Elizabeth nodded, but there was one more problem which weighed on her mind. “And will I not be a social pariah if we do obtain an annulment? I would not wish to stain your family’s honor, sir.”
“You need not worry about that,” replied Mr. Darcy. His tone was dismissive, but Elizabeth could see that he was considering the matter with all the gravity she had come to expect of him. “I doubt that word of this will get back to London, and even if my aunt deplores the fact that I will marry you—as I am certain she will, given her aspirations for Anne and me—she will do nothing to damage the Fitzwilliam name in public, and she will subside without making a scene in any of our social circles, though I do not doubt her private diatribes will be lengthy and spectacular.