Hypothetically Married

by Renata McMann

  Mrs. Searle stood as well. “If you’ll excuse me, dear, I’ll go greet the gentlemen.”

  Elizabeth nodded. She watched Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley beside him, greet their host and hostess. After saying a few words to Jane and his cousin, Mr. Darcy turned and headed toward Elizabeth.

  “Do stop hovering, girl,” Lady Catherine snapped.

  Elizabeth turned to meet Lady Catherine’s glare, leveled at her from the other side of Uncle Phillips.

  “Sit down,” Lady Catherine ordered. She scowled at Elizabeth, then turned the expression toward the approaching Mr. Darcy. “You’ve taught the girl no manners, Mr. Phillips. It’s no wonder no gentleman wants her.”

  “I’ve always found Miss Elizabeth’s manors to be impeccable, Aunt Catherine,” Mr. Darcy said as he came to stand at her side. “As are all aspects of her.”

  “All aspects of her?” Lady Catherine repeated, expression horrified. “I suggest you look at her, Darcy. Truly look. I’m certain this imagined perfection won’t hold up under scrutiny.”

  Uncle Phillips said something to Lady Catherine, voice pitched too low for Elizabeth to make out the words.

  Lady Catherine didn’t so much as look at him. “Well, Darcy, go ahead, look at her.” She sniffed. “You can start with that travesty of a gown.”

  “I am looking,” Mr. Darcy murmured.

  Indeed, Elizabeth could all but feel his gaze on her. She suppressed a blush and turned a sunny smile on his aunt. “Why, Lady Catherine, you noticed my gown. How good of you. I’m honored, but please don’t let us keep you from your conversation with my uncle. You have my sincere apologies for interrupting.”

  Lady Catherine’s eyes narrowed. Elizabeth could read her inner battle. Accept her unearned apology, or correct Elizabeth by admitting she was the one who’d spoken out of turn.

  Uncle Phillips, who’d remained angled away from Elizabeth and Darcy, almost as if he could shield them from Lady Catherine with his body, made another quiet statement.

  “Humph,” Lady Catherine settled for. She refocused her attention on Elizabeth’s uncle.

  “That was well done,” Mr. Darcy murmured as he gestured that they should sit. He took Elizabeth’s place, leaving her the chair beside her uncle. “And you look perfectly lovely in that dress. It’s one of my favorites.”

  Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. The dress was light blue with cream accents, so simple of cut as to be almost severe. “That’s kind of you to say, but your aunt is correct. I don’t dress very fashionably. I could afford better, but it seems a silly thing to spend on. I’d rather save. It’s always difficult to tell what life will hand you next, after all.” She dropped her gaze, sad she’d brought her family’s recent years of tragedy to mind.

  “You must miss your parents a great deal,” Mr. Darcy said, his voice pitched low.

  Elizabeth lifted her chin to find him watching her with dark, compassion-filled eyes. She was reminded that Mr. Darcy, too, had lost both of his parents already. “I do, and I miss having a home,” she all but whispered, not wishing her uncle to overhear, for he’d done well by them and loved them. “I miss my father’s books, because they remind me of him. I miss that feeling of being where I belong.”

  Mr. Darcy nodded. “It’s similar to how I feel when I’m away from Pemberley, I imagine, though more severe.”

  While he spoke, Jane and Mr. Bingley settled into the chairs beyond him. They were conversing quietly about their upcoming wedding. Kitty, the Searles, and Miss de Bourgh all sat on the couches in the center of the room. Likely to avoid Lady Catherine.

  “You would like Pemberley,” Mr. Darcy added, tone wistful.

  “You’ve spoken of your home so often on our walks, and with such clear affection and detail, I feel as if I already know the place,” Elizabeth replied with a smile.

  “I bore you?”

  “Never,” she stated, surprised he’d think so. “You intrigue me. I find I long to see so cherished and undoubtedly beautiful a place.”

  “And there are plenty of books,” Mr. Darcy offered. “If you enjoyed Darcy House’s library, you will love Pemberley’s. I keep a scant fraction of my collection in London.”

  Elizabeth searched his face for some hint of how he meant the words. They were almost an invitation. Of course, they couldn’t be. That would be wholly inappropriate and would suggest a change in their relationship he’d already assured her he didn’t wish to make.

  “There’s no need to ask Darcy,” Bingley, on the other side of Mr. Darcy, said. His voice was pitched a touch loud, his tone aggrieved. “It’s my wedding. I will see to it.”

  Mr. Darcy turned from Elizabeth. Past Mr. Bingley, Jane was flushed. She looked nervously toward Lady Catherine. Elizabeth could easily guess what Jane and Mr. Bingley were discussing. Lady Catherine was certain, if she heard, to add the Wickhams’ disappearance to her list of reasons Bennet girls were unsuitable.

  “See to what?” Mr. Darcy asked.

  Mr. Bingley turned to Mr. Darcy. “It seems Mrs. and Mr. Wickham have come up missing,” Mr. Bingley said, his voice low enough that Elizabeth didn’t think Lady Catherine would hear. “Jane would like to have them at our wedding. She feels you, knowing Mr. Wickham, might be able to find them.” Mr. Bingley’s expression took on an indignant cast. “I am perfectly capable of doing so, of course.”

  “Yes, of course,” Mr. Darcy said. He glanced back at Elizabeth, expression questioning and, she thought, a touch hurt. “You didn’t say anything.”

  How could she explain that she was being considerate, not aloof? “I have some idea of the depths of your dislike for my sister’s husband. I didn’t want to put you in a position where you had to agree to seek him out.”

  Mr. Darcy nodded. “Still, it can’t hurt if we both look for them. Where were they before they went missing? Do you have any idea why they’ve left?”

  In quiet voices, Elizabeth and Jane quickly summarized what they knew. Soon, Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley were in deep discussion of how to proceed. The four of them continued to speculate, and plan, until Mrs. Searle announced it was time for dinner.

  Elizabeth was pleased to find Mrs. Searle, as usual, had elected to employ place cards. That meant she could continue to converse with Mr. Darcy. Predictably, Lady Catherine was seated between Mrs. Searle and Uncle Phillips. Elizabeth noted that Mrs. Searle put forth a valent effort at conversation with Kitty, but her sister seemed rather deflated without Colonel Fitzwilliam beside her. Elizabeth thought Kitty was being a bit dramatic. The road to Bath wasn’t long. He would be back in London soon.

  After the second course was served, Mr. Searle stood up, not leaving his place. “I have an announcement to make.” His tone was a mixture of determination and joy.

  Elizabeth cringed inside. Her gaze went immediately to Lady Catherine.

  Mr. Searle raised his glass. “Miss de Bourgh has done me the great honor of consenting to be my wife, which I believe calls for a toast.”

  “She can’t consent,” Lady Catherine all but shouted.

  “Yes, she can,” Mr. Searle said. “She is of age.”

  “She is going to marry Darcy.” Lady Catherine accompanied her declaration with a glare at Elizabeth.

  “No. We’ve been over this,” Mr. Darcy said. “Neither of us wants to marry the other.”

  “You are promised to one another and you will wed,” Lady Catherine declared. She swiveled to face Miss de Bourgh. “Why didn’t you ask my permission before making this ridiculous announcement? It will just make malicious gossip.”

  Miss de Bourgh tipped her chin up to glare down her nose at her mother. “Because I knew you would refuse. The announcement of our engagement will be in tomorrow’s papers.”

  “What?” Lady Catherine gasped, going white. “What have you done?”

  “Precisely what I wish to do.” Miss de Bourgh’s firm tone was underscored by smugness.

  Lady Catherine came to her feet. “You will never live at Rosings in my lifetime,” she decla
red. “Either of you.”

  Miss de Bourgh stood as well. “I will never live at Rosings in my lifetime either.” She spat the words at her mother. “I hate Rosings. When you’re dead, I’m going to sell it.”

  Lady Catherine swayed. A hand coming up to press against her heart. Uncle Phillips jumped up to steady her. He shot Miss de Bourgh a look of reprimand. In her lap, Elizabeth twisted her napkin. Jane and Kitty both looked on with eyes as wide as Elizabeth knew her own to be. She was very happy Miss Darcy had remained home.

  Miss de Bourgh drew in a steadying breath. “If you accept my marriage, I will visit now and then for a week or two, if you want me.”

  Far from mollified, Lady Catherine regained her balance and mustered a scowl. “And just where do you think you’ll be living?” She pointed at Mr. Searle. “He doesn’t have a country seat. He’s not a gentleman.”

  “We will be living here,” Mr. Searle said calmly.

  “All year?” Lady Catherine snapped. She let out a derisive laugh. “You’ll be miserable. Excluded. Snubbed.” She pulled away from Uncle Phillips to lean across the table, toward Mr. Searle and Miss de Bourgh. “You’ll never be accepted by the ton.”

  Mr. Darcy stood. “She’ll be accepted by me, and I suspect by Colonel Fitzwilliam.”

  Kitty jumped up. “Richard accepts both Mr. Searle and Miss de Bourgh. I can’t imagine him not accepting them when they are married.”

  “It’s one thing to tolerate those who are beneath you in a social setting. It’s another to wish your cousin to wed one,” Lady Catherine said to Kitty. She turned to Miss de Bourgh with a scowl. “We are leaving now.”

  “No. I’m staying here.”

  “You are coming with me, and tomorrow we are returning to Rosings.”

  Miss de Bourgh’s chin jutted out. “I will not leave to be locked up like a child.”

  “Bruce, Brice,” Lady Catherine called out. “Bring Miss de Bourgh to the carriage.”

  Uncle Phillips put his hand on Lady Catherine’s arm. She turned to him and he said something Elizabeth couldn’t hear. Her reply sounded angry but was rendered equally unintelligible by her low tone.

  Mr. Darcy walked around his chair. Elizabeth turned to see him and Mr. Searle converge on either side of Miss de Bourgh. Mr. Searle scowled. Mr. Darcy’s expression was firm, if a touch grim. Kitty sat back down, looking slightly frightened. Mrs. Searle, who’d remained serene throughout, leaned near to whisper something to her. Jane edged closer to Mr. Bingley.

  Answering an invisible signal, four footmen entered. One was huge, one was simply big, one had a knife scar on his face and the fourth had a lean, wiry build. These were not the footmen who were usually visible in Mr. Searle’s house, although Elizabeth realized she recognized all four from various times outside the home. They were often left guarding Mr. Searle’s carriage or sent to follow Mrs. Searle when she went out.

  The four took up places about the room, but neither of the red-haired footman had moved. Lady Catherine pulled away from Uncle Phillips again. She looked around, jowls pulled down in a frown.

  Her gaze fell on her red-headed footmen. “Bruce, Brice, I gave you an order.”

  Either Bruce or Brice, Elizabeth couldn’t tell them apart, turned to Lady Catherine. “You have told us repeatedly to protect Miss de Bourgh. We have done so gladly. Now, I will protect her from you.”

  Beside him, the other nodded. “As will I.”

  Lady Catherine’s jaw went slack in shock. She looked around the room again. This time, she appeared more stunned than angry. She closed her eyes. Uncle Phillips hovered at her side, obviously solicitous but also aware that she’d already pulled away from his assistance twice. He said something in a low voice, near her ear.

  Lady Catherine opened her eyes. The lines on her face settled into immobility. Elizabeth was surprised how old she looked.

  “So be it,” Lady Catherine said to the red-headed footmen. “But perhaps you should continue to work for her.”

  Mr. Searle gave the footmen a quick nod. Brice, or Bruce, looked relieved. The other smiled and offered a return nod.

  Lady Catherine turned to face Miss de Bourgh. “Anne, you and your husband should come to Rosings for Christmas.”

  Miss de Bourgh gaped at her, clearly shocked by the concession.

  “We will look forward to that,” Mr. Searle said.

  “Lady Catherine,” Mr. Phillips said. “I’m glad you were able to be gracious.”

  “Would you escort me home?” she asked him. “I’m considerably disconcerted.”

  As was everyone else, Elizabeth thought.

  “Yes, certainly,” Uncle Phillips said. He offered Lady Catherine his arm, which she accepted.

  They walked slowly from the room. Lady Catherine made no further effort to engage anyone. She didn’t so much as look at any of them. The room was dead silent as the two of them left, and remained so while their footsteps could still be heard in the hall without.

  Mr. Searle whispered something to Miss de Bourgh, to which she replied in kind. He then turned to the red-headed footmen. “Miss de Bourgh has told me the terms you were hired under. If you work for her here, you will get a twenty-five percent increase in salary and an extra half-day off a week. Loyalty to my future wife should be rewarded.”

  “Thank you, sir,” one of the footman said.

  “That’s very generous of you,” the other agreed. “We would be honored to continue to serve Miss de Bourgh.”

  Searle made a gesture. The four rough-looking footmen slipped from the room. Elizabeth relaxed. She realized that, even though they were in Mr. Searle’s employ, the men had made her nervous.

  Mr. Darcy left his cousin’s side to retake his place beside Elizabeth. Mr. Searle helped Miss de Bourgh into her chair, then sat down. They all looked about the table at one another.

  Elizabeth lifted her wineglass. “Congratulations,” she said to Miss de Bourgh and Mr. Searle, breaking the silence.

  A babble of congratulations and best wishes followed. Dinner proceeded, likely with some consternation on the part of the cook for the delay. After two more courses, they all relaxed back into their usual, cheerful conversation.

  While the others were engaged in a discussion of Miss de Bourgh’s and Mr. Searle’s boldness in contacting the papers before Lady Catherine, Elizabeth turned to Mr. Darcy. “Would Lady Catherine really have locked Miss de Bourgh up?” she asked quietly.

  Mr. Darcy’s expression was serious. “It certainly is possible she would have. I don’t blame Anne for being concerned.”

  Before Elizabeth could formulate a reply that was both suitably polite and yet still expressed her feelings on that, Uncle Phillips was announced.

  As one, the occupants of the room turned toward the door. Expression ranged from confusion through curiosity and on to surprise. Uncle Phillips walked into the room, looking somewhat bedraggled.

  “Uncle Phillips,” Elizabeth exclaimed, concerned. “What happened? You look exhausted.”

  “Likely because of the walk.” He remained in the doorway. “Lady Catherine and I had a disagreement. She did not offer me the use of her carriage.”

  It was more than a half an hour walk between the two houses. The disagreement must have occurred shortly upon their arrival. Uncle Phillips seemed almost to sag where he stood. Mrs. Searle turned a sympathetic look on him.

  “What did you disagree about?” Kitty asked.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Uncle Phillips said.

  “Is she unwell?” Miss de Bourgh asked.

  “I don’t know,” he replied. “I am tired and would like to leave. Jane, Elizabeth, Kitty, I don’t usually curtail your visits, but I think we should return to the Gardiners now.”

  “Certainly,” Jane said.

  Saying their goodbyes, Elizabeth and her family left. The carriage ride home was nearly silent. Uncle Phillips wasn’t the only one who’d found the evening a bit exhausting.

  Chapter Twenty

  Darcy tu
rned to Anne after Elizabeth and her family left. “I wouldn’t presume to tell you what to do,” he said, his tone somewhat wry. “However, if you should care to, you are very welcome to stay at Darcy House until you wed.”

  Anne’s features molded into a look of relief. “I would very much care to. Thank you, Darcy. I’ve been trying to find a way to ask ever since Mother left. I thought about going to Matlock’s, but with Richard and our aunt not yet arrived, I don’t truly wish to. The earl arrived in town yesterday. You know he and I don’t get on very well.”

  Darcy nodded. Few people got on well with their older cousin. Richard’s brother and Anne’s mother were two of a kind. “I’m sure Georgiana will be pleased to have you visit as well.”

  Anne offered a quick smile but turned serious again almost immediately. “Would you mind terribly going over? You could ask my maid to gather her things and assemble a trunk for me, and you could check on Mother. I know she’s been beastly, but I really am worried for her.” She shook her head. “I shouldn’t have said that, about selling Rosings.”

  “But you do plan to,” Searle said.

  “Yes, but I shouldn’t have told her.” Anne shrugged. “It won’t happen until she’s no longer with us. She didn’t need to know. Now she’ll have years to dwell on it.” She let out a sigh. “And argue with me over it.”

  “So, discuss it with her and pretend to change your mind,” Bingley suggested.

  Anne’s expression hardened into obstinacy. “I can’t do that.”

  Darcy hoped Searle knew what he was getting into, though it was too late now. There was a strong stubborn streak that ran through some members of the family. Darcy was fortunate to be free of it.

  He pushed back his chair. “I don’t mean to further curtail our evening, but I’d best go if Anne’s maid and trunk are to arrive in Darcy House tonight, although I’m sure Georgiana will have anything you require.”

  Bingley pushed his chair back from the table as well. “Right. That means me, as well, although I’ll wait in the carriage while you speak with you aunt, Darcy, if you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all.” Darcy felt things would go better with less of an audience.