by Nancy Kelley
She tossed her head back, her eyes flashing. She looks like an angry horse, Darcy thought, and fought back an absurd desire to laugh. He sipped his tea and waited for his aunt to tell him the purpose of her visit.
"Indeed not! I am here to discuss a much nearer concern, though on the same subject--your own engagement."
All amusement was at an end; Darcy nearly choked on his tea when she uttered those words. My engagement? Surely she does not refer to Anne!
Lady Catherine's next sentence did not illuminate the matter. "She would not give me the answers I wished for, so I came to you that I might hear them with my own ears."
A frown creased Darcy's brow. "Lady Catherine, I am afraid that I did not follow you. Perhaps it would be best if you started at the beginning. Of whom are you speaking?"
"Miss Elizabeth Bennet," Lady Catherine said, her upper lip curled into a sneer. "I have come to you directly from speaking with her, and I must say I left most displeased with the lady."
Elizabeth? Lady Catherine visited Elizabeth? "What took you to Hertfordshire?" Darcy asked, trying to calm his racing heart. "Did you bring a message to Miss Elizabeth from Mrs. Collins?"
Lady Catherine shook her head. "No, I came on business of my own."
Darcy raised a hand to his temple to massage away the headache he felt building behind his eyes. "What business could you possibly have with the Bennet family?"
Lady Catherine paced in front of the fireplace. "Surely you can understand my concern! I heard, on what I took as good authority, that you were to follow your friend to the altar--that not long after he married the elder Miss Bennet, you would wed her sister. In short, Mr. Collins told me that you, Fitzwilliam Darcy, had made an offer of marriage to Elizabeth Bennet."
Darcy started. How did Mr. Collins know... Then he realized the connection must have been assumed, since he was Bingley's closest friend and Elizabeth Jane's sister. The rapidity with which truth is twisted into gossip shall never cease to amaze me.
"Why did you drive to Longbourn?"
"To hear it contradicted!"
Darcy's stomach knotted, for Lady Catherine held the answer to the question he could not bring himself to ask. "And what did Miss Elizabeth tell you?"
"She thwarted me time and again. I asked her if you were engaged, and she refused to answer. I told her how our close relationship entitled me to know your concerns, and she said that did not entitle me to hers."
Darcy coughed to hide the laughter he could not contain. This sounded so very much like Elizabeth--and in truth, she echoed his sentiments. Why does my aunt always assume she may impose on my life whenever she wishes?
"Well, I finally managed to get an answer out of her, though I suspect that is merely because when faced with a direct question, even she would not lie."
Darcy slumped. "Your quest was satisfied then, I take it." I was right--Elizabeth will not have me. She cannot forgive my past injuries.
He almost missed Lady Catherine's reply, but the lady's voice was strident enough to pierce his mournful thoughts. "Indeed it was not! I then asked her to promise that she would never enter into such an engagement, and she refused! Can it be borne? You have been intended for Anne all your life but that matters little to her. Nothing matters to her but what she may gain from an alliance with you."
She spat those words out with such force that Darcy nearly took a step backward. His mind raced. "Lady Catherine, I am not sure I understand you. Do you mean to tell me that Miss Bennet refused to promise not to become engaged to me?"
"Is that not what I just said? She cares nothing for your good reputation and consequence in Society; the degradation that would come if you were to ally yourself with such a family did not sway her a bit."
"Perhaps your question merely surprised her and she was not sure how to answer," Darcy suggested, still unable to believe his aunt's conclusion.
"I think not. I laid out all the consequences she might expect if she were to pursue you--the censure she would receive from your family, from all your connections, and do you know what she said in reply? 'The wife of Mr. Darcy must have such extraordinary sources of happiness necessarily attached to her situation, that she could, upon the whole, have no cause to repine.'"
It was just as well she did not look at her nephew when she uttered those words, for she could not have mistaken the flush that swept over his features. Darcy turned toward the fireplace and rested a hand on the mantle.
"She speaks of your wealth, of your position, of course. Insolent girl, to aspire to such a match! She is determined, you see, to have you!"
His back to his aunt, Darcy felt free to grin foolishly. Of one thing he was certain--Elizabeth Bennet would never consent to marry him for his fortune. That she had made perfectly clear.
"Darcy, do you attend me?" Lady Catherine rapped her cane against the floor. "Do you hear what I am telling you? This girl believes she can usurp what belongs to my Anne!"
"Yes, it is quite shocking." Darcy's mind raced. He needed to be in Hertfordshire; he couldn't stay away from Elizabeth any longer. But first, my guest must leave.
Darcy rang for a servant and then looked at Lady Catherine, a disinterested mask firmly in place. "Aunt, I appreciate the concern for my wellbeing that brought you here with this message."
A footman entered the room. "Yes, Mr. Darcy?"
"Please call for Lady Catherine's carriage."
"Darcy! What do you mean by doing this?"
"I am simply tending to your comfort, Aunt," Darcy reassured her. "You cannot have taken time to truly relax at your house before you came here."
"I arrived in town late last night, and determined..."
"To come directly to warn me. Yes, I quite understand, and indeed, your words have had an impact you can scarcely believe." This was the moment when he should inform her that he would not marry Anne, but he hesitated. If I tell her that now, she will not leave my house until she has convinced me otherwise. What is more, she might easily make the connection to Elizabeth.
Though he hated the deception inherent in the omission, he chose not to mention Anne at all. Instead, he said, "Now I must beg of your ladyship to return to your own house where you may have all the comforts you have denied yourself in coming to me so early."
She huffed. "You will take into account what I have told you? This Bennet creature is determined to have you, Darcy--take heed."
Excitement rose in Darcy's breast at the thought. "I shall indeed heed your words, Lady Catherine. You have been a tremendous help."
Chapter Thirty-nine
"She could have, on the whole, no cause to repine."
Once again, Elizabeth's words echoed in Darcy's head, but this time their effect was far more pleasant. He could not believe her feelings had undergone so material a change as they seemed to indicate, but Elizabeth was not one to dissemble. Had she truly been decided against me, she would have told Lady Catherine so directly.
He had made preparations to return to Hertfordshire as soon as Lady Catherine left, and then he had slept but a little, trying to guess what Elizabeth might have meant. Now he was only an hour from Netherfield, and some of his earlier certainty vanished. For I once approached Elizabeth with a presumptuous belief she would accept me, and instead I was rejected. It would be far better to expect rejection and find welcome!
It was not long before his carriage turned down the graceful sweep toward Netherfield Park. The view was not the same as the tree-lined drive he loved from Pemberley, but were Elizabeth to accept his hand here in Hertfordshire, the local landscape would be second in his heart only to Derbyshire.
The carriage rolled to a stop in front of the house, and Darcy jumped out. "Good afternoon, Mr. Darcy," the butler said after opening the door. "Shall I have your things taken to your room?"
"Yes, thank you. Is Bingley in his study?" Darcy asked, already walking in that direction.
"No, sir--he is visiting the Longbourn family."
Darcy swallowed a sigh of dis
appointment. He had hoped to arrive in time to join Bingley for his regular call. "Very well. I will await his return in the library."
Though the book he had been reading before his trip to London still sat where he had left it on the end table, Darcy did not pick it up. He did not even take a seat. The library provided a first-floor view down onto the lane; from here he would know the moment of Bingley's return.
He paced in front of the tall windows, pausing in every pass to look out at the clear, fall day. Lady Catherine's words had offered hope enough that he chafed at every minute's delay. He must know once and for all what Elizabeth's feelings toward him truly were. If they were still what they had been in April, he would remove himself from her presence forever, but if...
All the glorious possibilities of that "if" ran through his mind, and his fingers flexed. Oh Elizabeth, how I would love you, if you would let me!
"The wife of Mr. Darcy must have such extraordinary sources of happiness..."
All Darcy's hopes rested in those words. He was quite certain she had never before considered happiness as the resulting outcome of marriage to him!
Hoofbeats stopped Darcy in mid-stride and he turned back toward the window. "At last," he muttered when he saw Bingley hand the reins of his horse to the waiting stable hand.
He realized suddenly how odd it would appear if Bingley knew how anxiously he awaited his arrival, and he finally picked his book up and sat down. The words made no sense to him, however, and he turned the pages without being aware of his actions.
Bingley entered the room a few minutes later. "Darcy!" He held his hand out and Darcy rose to take it. "This is a welcome surprise. Why did you not write to say you were coming?"
Darcy sat back down and marveled at the cheerful, open expression on his friend's face. I would not be so forgiving were our positions reversed.
"I apologize, Bingley, but I heard congratulations were in order and decided to forgo the note in favor of a visit. I hope I am welcome?"
Bingley laughed and moved to the sideboard. "How could I do otherwise, when Jane has so sweetly forgiven me? Come, let us drink to my good fortune." He poured two glasses of claret and handed one to Darcy. "I hope you may soon find so worthy a woman for your bride."
The drink hit the back of Darcy's throat just as Bingley uttered the wish, and he choked, sputtering a little. "Darcy? Are you all right?" his friend asked in concern.
"I am fine, Bingley--I just inhaled a little wine, I believe." He coughed again and cleared his throat. "Now, tell me what plans you have made. When are you to marry?"
"November twenty-six--exactly a year after the ball when I realized I must propose."
Twin emotions of humor and jealousy shot through Darcy. He tamped down the latter and only said, "You have become a romantic worthy of the poets, Bingley."
His friend shrugged, a happy smile on his face. "Jane loves me; she has consented to be my wife. I defy even you to remain stoic in the face of such joy."
"And you will live here at Netherfield?" Darcy asked, turning the focus away from his future happiness.
Bingley nodded. "At some point, of course, we wish to purchase a home of our own, but Netherfield will do quite nicely for the present."
"Indeed." Darcy's mind turned to a vacant estate he knew of in Derbyshire. If Elizabeth accepts me, how much happier she would be to have her favorite sister not fifty miles away. After all, fifty miles of good road...
"Darcy?"
Darcy glanced up and saw Bingley looking at him curiously. "I apologize once again, Bingley. I am afraid my conversation skills are not up to snuff at the moment; the journey was more fatiguing than usual. Will you excuse me until supper?"
"Of course."
When Darcy joined Bingley that evening, he had regained control over his wayward thoughts and devised a plan that would give him the earliest access to Elizabeth, without rousing any suspicion. "I was not wholly honest with you earlier, Bingley."
"Good lord, Darcy, another confession? Well, out with it then."
"This omission of truth was not nearly as grievous as the first, I assure you. You asked what brought me back to Hertfordshire, and I dissembled a bit. My aunt visited me yesterday afternoon, you see."
Bingley's face darkened. "Did she? Jane says she caused quite a disturbance two days ago at Longbourn."
"Yes, I was afraid she had. Did Miss Bennet know the nature of the call?"
"No, she spoke only to Miss Elizabeth, and Elizabeth has not told Jane a word--which concerns my lady greatly, as they are not in the habit of keeping secrets."
"I see. It is my hope... I would like to apologize to Miss Elizabeth, in my family's name. May I join you tomorrow at Longbourn?"
Bingley smiled. "And that was your great secret? Of course you may, Darcy." He grinned. "Your presence may be the very thing to distract Miss Elizabeth from her role as chaperone."
Chapter Forty
Darcy's presence the following afternoon was surely a surprise to the whole family, but only Mrs. Bennet was rude enough to comment on it. "Mr. Darcy! We did not know you were back from town, sir."
"Yes, I arrived late yesterday afternoon."
He spoke to Mrs. Bennet, but his eyes were on Elizabeth. Her complexion seemed a little paler than he recalled. Does she wish I had not come?
"After sitting so long in a carriage, I am sure Darcy would welcome a walk. May I invite all the ladies to join us?" Bingley asked.
Mrs. Bennet and Miss Mary quickly answered in the negative, but Darcy kept his gaze on Elizabeth. If she refused to join them, he would have his answer. Instead, she smiled slightly and nodded her assent, and his relief was so great, he almost missed Miss Kitty announcing her intent to walk with them as far as Lucas Lodge.
The autumn sun warmed their backs when they set out. Bingley and Miss Bennet quickly fell behind, and Darcy smiled. Bingley wastes no time.
The silence between the remaining three was uncomfortable. There was much Darcy wished to say to Elizabeth that he could not say in the presence of her sister, and he wished Miss Kitty would hurry so they might reach the lane to Lucas Lodge a little faster.
At last, however, they were there, and Miss Kitty turned to look at her sister. "Lizzy, would you care to join me? I am sure Maria would be glad of a visit from you."
"No, Kitty, you may go along without me." The younger girl nodded and ambled down the drive.
Darcy took courage from the fact that Elizabeth did not seem unwilling to be alone with him. They resumed their walk without a word, but despite the awkwardness of the silence, Darcy would not speak until he knew how to broach the subject.
He had just settled on the right words when she suddenly turned to him and said, "Mr. Darcy, I am a very selfish creature; and, for the sake of giving relief to my own feelings, care not how much I may be wounding yours."
Darcy remembered well the last time she had given relief to her own feelings, and his gut clenched.
"I can no longer help thanking you for your unexampled kindness to my poor sister. Ever since I have known it, I have been most anxious to acknowledge to you how gratefully I feel it. Were it known to the rest of my family, I should not have merely my own gratitude to express."
Darcy cringed at the word gratitude. That was the one thing above everything else that he did not want from Elizabeth; it was the very reason he had kept his involvement in the affair secret. "I am sorry, exceedingly sorry, that you have ever been informed of what may, in a mistaken light, have given you uneasiness. I did not think Mrs. Gardiner was so little to be trusted."
He was rather vexed with the lady until Elizabeth said, "You must not blame my aunt. Lydia's thoughtlessness first betrayed to me that you had been concerned in the matter; and of course, I could not rest till I knew the particulars."
Darcy sighed; he could easily imagine that Lydia had been unable to keep the secret. She seemed to delight in sharing anything that was inappropriate.
Then he looked at Elizabeth, and the ear
nest expression on her face drove Lydia from his mind. "Let me thank you again and again, in the name of all my family--" she paused slightly and looked away for a moment-- "for that generous compassion which induced you to take so much trouble and bear so many mortifications, for the sake of discovering them."
Her gratitude, though unwelcome, did offer him an opening to express his feelings for her. "If you will thank me, let it be for yourself alone. That the wish of giving happiness to you might add force to the other inducements which led me on, I shall not attempt to deny. But your family owe me nothing," he emphasized, and her eyes widened. "Much as I respect them, I believe I thought only of you."