The Darcy Brothers

by Abigail Reynolds

  If Darcy’s situation were not so dire, he would have laughed to see his aunt being upstaged by her daughter. But there was no laughter inside him at all.

  How in the world was he to convince dear, obstinate Elizabeth that it was essential for her to marry him?

  *****

  Darcy stepped out of the room with everyone else and carefully closed the door behind him, taking a deep breath. He had never felt so humiliated and embarrassed in his life. He needed a moment to gather his scattered wits about him. He needed to think.

  “What are you doing out here, Darcy?” said Fitzwilliam. “You are supposed to be in there with Miss Bennet, convincing her to marry you.”

  “It may have escaped your notice, Fitzwilliam, but the lady has just rejected my offer. I need a strategy before I go back in there.”

  “No doubt you will think of something to say, Fish,” said Theo, using the childhood name, leaning against the wall and looking vastly amused. “You always do.”

  At Theo’s words, the embarrassment changed to anger. Theo had engineered the whole situation for his own entertainment. Did he not realize that this went far beyond a prank, that he was in fact toying with people’s lives?

  “You have a great deal to answer for, Theo,” said Darcy. “You have put me in an utterly untenable situation and—”

  “It was not Theo who thought up the scheme, Darcy,” said Anne, interrupting, “It was I.” At his astonishment, she looked as pleased as a cat who had found the cream.

  Lady Catherine stared at her daughter as if she had just announced she had two heads.

  “You? You did this? You?” she sputtered, her face turning the color of beetroot. For the first time in his life, Darcy saw his aunt at a loss for words. Her mouth moved up and down but she seemed unable to find a way to express her outrage.

  “Aunt Catherine, shall I send for smelling salts?” said Theo.

  “I am not in need of smelling salts,” snapped Lady Catherine. “I am in need of a cure to this madness! Anne, you do realize you cannot marry Darcy if he marries someone else? Have you any idea, child, what damage you have done?”

  “Of course I have an idea. I have been sickly, Mama, but I am not stupid. I am more than happy to have someone else marry Darcy. I have no interest at all in marrying him.”

  As if he had not been humiliated enough today, now Anne was adding insult to injury. Darcy forced himself not to look at Theo. The impudent puppy was snickering in the corner, enjoying every moment of his discomfort.

  “Nonsense!” said Lady Catherine. “You have no right to articulate your preference. Marriage is determined by adults, not by young girls who cannot be relied upon to know their own good.”

  “It may have escaped your notice, Mama, but I am eight and twenty and quite a few years beyond adulthood. In any case, it is useless to cry over spilt milk,” said Anne. “Elizabeth Bennet and Darcy are as good as engaged.”

  “Not under my roof,” said Lady Catherine. “I will go in and ensure that the conniving chit never agrees to an engagement.”

  She moved towards the bedchamber. Darcy stepped sideways to block his aunt’s entrance.

  “You will do no such thing, Aunt. This is no affair of yours,” he said, his voice like ice.

  Lady Catherine sent him such a cold look that for a moment he almost wavered. However, it was Elizabeth who was in that room. All his protective instincts rose to the surface.

  “You will not step inside that room, Aunt Catherine.”

  “You cannot dictate to me in my own house, Darcy.”

  “I can and I will.”

  Lady Catherine sent him another poisonous glare. When he did not falter, she looked away.

  “You have not heard the last of this,” she hissed. “I had an agreement with your mother, and I will ensure you honor it.” She turned on her heels and strode down the hallway.

  Theo whistled in approval. “Bravo, Darcy! I never thought I would live to see anyone standing up to the Old Bat. My faith in you is fully restored; ‘Prince William’ is gone, long live the King!”

  “Stop calling me that,” said Darcy. “This is no time for humor.”

  “On the contrary, this is the best time for humor,” said Theo.

  “I think you ought to let Darcy focus on the issue at hand,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam. “Your brother has been placed in a very awkward situation. Like it or not, the reputation of a young lady is at stake. I would say that is no matter for joking.”

  Theo had the grace to look abashed, and Darcy felt a momentary gratitude toward his cousin until he remembered Richard should not have been there in the first place.

  “As for you, Richard, I thought you were on your way to bring back Mr. Cox. Elizabeth is in pain.”

  “I do not need to chase after him personally, you know, Darcy. I have sent someone reliable to fetch him. He should be arriving any moment.”

  “Still, I was relying on you—”

  Theo turned away. "I must go. I am long overdue getting on the road."

  The Colonel frowned. "It is growing late; will you not stay until morning?"

  With a shake of his head, Theo walked off down the landing. "Not much point, Cousin." He glanced back over his shoulder as he paused at the top of the stairs. "No one is relying on me for anything." He threw Darcy a pointed glare and set off down the steps at a rapid pace.

  “William,” said Georgiana gently, touching him on the arm. “I do believe Miss Bennet is waiting. You ought to go in.”

  Darcy’s heart began to pound. He had no better idea of what to say than he had had when he had left the room.

  Well, delaying further would hardly endear his cause to her.

  He straightened his shoulders, took a steadying breath and knocked on the door of the bedchamber to give Elizabeth fair warning.

  *****

  Darcy entered and shut the door behind him, leaving the unspoken question hanging in the air between them.

  Will you do me the honor of being my wife?

  Elizabeth sat upright in her bed, her back pressed into the headboard behind her. Her shoulder was throbbing, a steady ebb and flow in time with her heartbeat, and a dull ache emanated from her ankle.

  She understood her predicament well enough. What Georgiana had said was true. Even if everyone agreed to keep quiet, word would leak out somehow. When it came to gossip, news of a lady’s disgrace would spread quicker than wildfire. It did not matter that she had done nothing to be put in this situation.

  Yet, at the same time, she resented being forced into marriage. Being backed into a corner raised her hackles more than anything. Being backed into a corner and forced to marry an arrogant, overbearing man like Mr. Darcy only made the situation worse. Every instinct she possessed rebelled against allowing someone accustomed to obedience in all things to run roughshod over her.

  She was forced to choose between the frying pan and the fire—to be scorched by the censure of society, or to spend her life struggling against a man who would expect her compliance as well as her gratitude for saving her from disgrace.

  Even her mother, with her desperate desire for a good match, would not wish Elizabeth to marry Mr. Darcy. A marriage like this could only bring unhappiness to both parties. To enter into marriage feeling beholden to Darcy would be ill-fated. Already his stature in society was superior to hers. How could she make any claim to equality under such circumstances?

  Pride held her back, pride and self-knowledge. She was far too outspoken, far too unrestrained, and sooner or later he would find her a liability. She could never be the kind of wife he required to be mistress of a large estate.

  More importantly, she had always promised herself that only a deep and enduring love would prompt her to marry.

  There were too many reasons not to marry Darcy, and only a single reason to marry him. The only inducement for marriage was to escape society’s censure. From her vantage point at this moment, being censored by society appeared to be the better choice, far
better than a lifetime of unhappiness.

  Unless Mr. Darcy could convince her otherwise.

  She looked towards him, wondering at his silence. He was leaning on the door, looking ill at ease. He did not appear to have anything to say. No doubt he, too, had many doubts about entering into the marriage. He had done the honorable thing and proposed, but now was thinking better of it.

  The silence stretched on.

  She did not wish to be the first to say something. His intentions were unclear. If he wished to withdraw his offer, he must do so himself. She would not assist him.

  If only she could think more clearly through the pain that had settled into her shoulder like a clamp, biting into her flesh. She shifted, doing her best not to wince and alert him to her pain.

  Elizabeth met his gaze questioningly. He was staring straight at her, his eyes following her every move. The steady gaze flustered her and she looked away. She could not help remembering that just a few moments ago he had been about to kiss her. Incomprehensibly, her heart skipped a beat and her hands trembled. She moved them under the cover to hide them.

  Too unnerved now to bear the silence any longer, she took refuge in humor.

  “You need not lean on the door as if you are hoping to escape, Mr. Darcy, though at least you have the advantage over me of being able to do it. I cannot run, because my ankle is injured. I am stuck in this bed and forced to deal with the situation at hand. However, if you have any crutches, I would be happy to oblige.”

  “As always, Miss Bennet, you choose to willfully misinterpret my actions,” said Darcy, his lips twitching. “I do not desire to run away. If I wish to run in any particular direction, it is towards you.”

  His voice had a caressing tone that sent tingles down her spine. There was a peculiar warmth shining out of his eyes. Heat flooded her face. Who was the man standing before her? How could this be the same cold, haughty Mr. Darcy she had encountered at the Meryton assembly? Had she misjudged him, after all, as he had claimed? Were there hidden aspects to him she had not yet discovered? Had she been mistaken about him all along?

  Suddenly Elizabeth felt out of her depth, swimming against a current that threatened to overwhelm her.

  He approached her in three easy strides and with a quick movement took up a chair and moved it next to her bed.

  “You have me at a disadvantage, Mr. Darcy,” she said, trying to keep the conversation light. “With my back against the wall, I cannot escape you.”

  Darcy nodded. “I am sorry for that. I am sorry for everything that has happened today, your injury in particular, and most especially for Theo’s careless actions which caused you the injury. I cannot help thinking that, if Mr. Watling had aimed any lower, the bullet might have entered your heart.”

  The intensity in Mr. Darcy’s tone unnerved her, as did the fact that he was sitting so close he could reach out and touch her.

  “Oh, my heart is quite safe, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth with a little laugh, doing her best to diffuse the strange tension. “Besides, surely you cannot hold Theo responsible this time. It was Mr. Watling who fired the shot. Your brother had nothing to do with it.”

  “It was my brother’s antics that brought this on. However, we need not discuss my brother, not unless you have a particular interest in him.”

  “I have told you, I do not.”

  “Then let us turn to the more crucial matter of how to resolve our situation.”

  Here it was. Elizabeth braced herself. There had to be some way out. She did not want to believe she had no other possibility than to commit her life to a man she hardly knew—a man she had despised until recently—a man she had considered the last person in the world she would have wished to marry.

  If only she thought hard enough, she would find a solution. She could not think of one, not yet, but if she could stall him long enough, something would occur to her, she was certain.

  *****

  Darcy licked his lips, which had suddenly turned dry. Oh, for a drink to quench his parched throat, or better still, several sniffers of brandy to loosen his tongue!

  He was no good at words. It terrified him to think that his next few words would determine his whole future.

  “Dearest Elizabeth—”

  “Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth, interrupting rather breathlessly. “I know you wish to renew your proposal, but I beg you to defer it for a moment.”

  Darcy did not know whether to be vexed by her reaction or relieved. The truth was, he did not have a clear idea what to say that would convince her.

  “Please do not take it amiss,” she said, a hint of laughter dispelling some of her pallor. “It is just that I delight in everything ridiculous, as you well know, and I find myself in a particularly ridiculous situation.”

  He loved the way her face glowed when she laughed. For a moment, he watched her, thinking how beautiful she was, admiring the sharp light in her fine eyes. Then the sound of voices outside the door reminded him that he did not have time to indulge in that luxury. Miss Bennet’s reputation was at stake, even if she did not wish to acknowledge it.

  “Ridiculous is perhaps not the right word, Miss Bennet,” he said. “I do not believe you fully appreciate the seriousness of your position.”

  “I wish I had not been put in this position to start with,” she said, with feeling.

  So did he. Anne had not done him a favor by forcing Elizabeth’s hand this way.

  “Believe me,” said Darcy, with equal emphasis, “if I could undo Cousin Anne’s mischief I would.”

  “Oh, was it Miss de Bourgh who locked us in? I did not know. Though I cannot say I am surprised. She is rather odd.”

  “She is odd, but at least she did not do it out of malice.”

  Elizabeth seemed to reflect on that. She cocked her head sideways and considered him.

  “Why did she do it, then?”

  Darcy felt his face burning.

  “She wanted to help me with my courtship.”

  “What courtship?”

  Darcy was seized with an acute sense of embarrassment. He slipped his finger between his throat and his cravat, which felt as though it was suddenly beginning to strangle him.

  “Anne would say, no doubt, that I was going about it too slowly.”

  “As far as I can tell, you were not going about it at all.”

  Was there laughter in her eyes?

  “Are you mocking me?” said Darcy.

  “Only teasing,” said Elizabeth. “I had not realized you were quite so shy.”

  He had not wanted her to know that. It embarrassed him that she had put her finger on one of his weaknesses.

  “I will admit it is a fault of mine,” he said, stiffly. “I am not proud of it.”

  She put out her hand to touch his arm. The touch was very brief but it seared into his skin.

  “You need not be ashamed, either,” said Elizabeth. “I prefer to think you too shy than too arrogant.”

  He looked at her, half in hope, half in fear that she was laughing at him. His heart lurched at the grave expression on her face. There was sympathy there as well as understanding.

  There was hope for them, after all.

  “I like to think that we can converse intelligently, at least, which is more than can be said of many married couples.”

  “Perhaps, but I do not know you yet well enough to be sure of even that much. Is it too much to wish we were not being compelled into a permanent state of marriage simply because we were found alone together in a room?” replied Elizabeth.

  Under rather incriminating circumstances, Darcy recalled. She could not have forgotten that, surely?

  “I was about to kiss you,” murmured Darcy, his gaze moving to her lips.

  He was no good at words, but perhaps there were other ways to convince her.

  She shifted as she guessed his intention, jarring her shoulder. The tiny whimper of pain was enough to stop him in his tracks.

  With a sudden twinge of guilt, he realized he ha
d forgotten about her injury.

  Damnation! Where was that confounded doctor when they needed him? At the very least, Elizabeth needed some laudanum to ease her pain, but the wound needed to be examined as well. Was she looking paler than she had been earlier? He ran his fingers through his hair.

  “This is the worst moment to have this discussion, but the fact is we have to reach some agreement. The longer we stay alone in the room, the worse the situation will become.”

  Elizabeth looked towards the door and the corner of her lips dimpled.

  “I do believe there may be someone peering through the keyhole.”

  Startled, Darcy looked in the same direction. There was definitely movement there. He rose, went to the bedside table, took up the key lying there, strode over to the door and fitted the key into the lock but did not turn it.

  “That should ensure our privacy at least,” said Darcy, with a grin as he resumed his seat.

  Their gazes met in perfect understanding. It was at moments like this that all his uncertainties disappeared. They were made for each, if only Elizabeth would see it.

  He reached forward for the hand that was on top of the blanket. She resisted, then allowed him to hold it. He was surprised at how small and delicate it was, considering that Elizabeth was hardly a wilting flower. He ran his index finger across the sensitive tips of her fingers, relishing the feeling of them, one by one.

  Her fingers trembled, just a little. A sense of triumph surged up in him. Perhaps she was not as indifferent to him as she would have him believe.

  “Miss Bennet, I know I am not what you imagined in a husband. You consider me harsh and unfeeling,” said Darcy.

  When she made a gesture of protest, he gave a rueful smile.

  “You need not deny it. You have made your opinion of me abundantly clear.”

  She withdrew her hand, looking agitated.

  “I no longer know what I think of you, but that is not my only concern. You are asking me to abandon my principles. I have always said I would only marry for love.”

  “You are not abandoning your principles.” He looked deep into her eyes, deep into her soul, willing her to understand the truth of what he was saying. “I love you, Elizabeth Bennet, and I wish more than anything else for you to be my wife. How can you say then that you are not marrying for love?”