The Secrets of Pemberley: A Pride and Prejudice Variation (Jane Austen Reimaginings Book 9)

by Rose Fairbanks

  Oh, it was not obvious. She merely disagreed with her Mama and redirected the woman’s anger. To Darcy, however, Elizabeth’s shielding seemed sweeter than any decadent dessert. Her fierceness and protective nature bewitched him more than any other action could. In her, Darcy could have found the one spouse that might stand as an equal beside him. She might have brought him the peace and security he unknowingly needed and filled the void in his heart.

  The slamming of the gate behind him brought Darcy’s mind back to the present. Richard had raced ahead and called out to Collins, preventing the man from entering first. They waited for Darcy.

  “Here we go,” Richard laughed and clapped Darcy on the shoulder. He led the way.

  Entering the small house, Darcy held his breath. At another time, he might look around and mentally critique the place. He might find himself uncomfortable in his richness. Now, he felt as though he had been punched in the gut. Elizabeth, more beautiful than he recalled, stood only an arm’s length away.

  Their eyes met and… nothing. She curtseyed in acknowledgment of him. No smile, no hint of a thrill of being in his company again, no relief as her despair had ended, no regret. She appeared entirely indifferent to him.

  No, Darcy told himself. She had never acted indifferent to him. How often had she found him staring at her? How often did she provoke him into an argument just to command his attention?

  Elizabeth offered his cousin a smile, and a jealous beast roared in Darcy’s heart. “This is a very pleasant house,” Darcy said to Mr. and Mrs. Collins.

  “Thank you,” Collins beamed. “Lady Catherine remodelled it shortly before I moved here. I can never repay her generosity of so much attention to detail. New furnishings! Closets in every room, and with shelves, too!”

  Mrs. Collins laid a hand on her husband’s arm, and Darcy watched it with envy. Would that he could silence the buffoon as easily Mrs. Collins.

  “Lady Catherine’s kindness can be no surprise to him, dear.”

  Darcy smiled. “Your wife is quite right. Despite what my aunt has done, I am sure Mrs. Collins is the one who has made it a comfortable home. My congratulations, of course.”

  Mrs. Collins nodded at his words while blushing. She seemed to look at him with suspicion. Had she not expected him to compliment a new bride? Not wanting to allow her husband time to speak again, Darcy cast about for another topic. “I believe the last rector had an extensive garden. Do you have any plans this season?”

  Darcy could talk about farming for hours. He would simply modify the scale and scope when discussing it with Collins. The man smiled so widely, Darcy thought his face might crack. His eyes filled with adoration like a puppy bonding with his master. The only thing he needed less than a bumbling, awkward parson attached to his side was one related to Elizabeth Bennet and hosting her for several weeks. Fortunately, Richard asked Mr. Collins something about the house, and he bounded over to the colonel’s side.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Darcy saw Elizabeth watching her friend and cousin with a bit of concern marring her face. Disregarding the internal voice that told him to remain mute, he sought to relieve Elizabeth’s feelings. “I hope your family is well, Miss Bennet.”

  She startled at his voice but turned her head to face him. “They are, thank you.”

  Darcy had counted on Elizabeth’s liveliness to carry the conversation. Belatedly, he recalled her irritation at such an approach at the Netherfield ball.

  “My eldest sister has been in town these three months. Have you never happened to see her there?”

  How had he forgotten that when burdened with all the direction in a conversation she sought to punish him? She would do everything she could to unsettle a person—or at least him. When they last met, it was clear she had heard some lie of Wickham’s and wished to wound Darcy. Had he taken her warning to heart? How could he know if she was safe from the scoundrel?

  His mind was occupied for too long, and Elizabeth cleared her throat to remind Darcy it was his turn to speak. “I regret I have not had the fortune of seeing her.”

  Elizabeth said nothing else, and now Darcy’s mind was filled with wondering about her words, a welcome distraction from thoughts of his former friend. He could find no civil way to ask what he wished to know. Did her sister love his friend? If she was in London, why did she not call on Miss Bingley? Miss Bingley had told him when Jane Bennet had sent a letter about her arrival in Town. She never called on ladies she had claimed were such good friends, proving her cold heart. If she could not be moved to see her friends—the sisters of a suitor—there could be no love for Bingley. Perhaps Miss Bingley concealed… No, if Miss Bennet had been at the Hurst townhouse, how had Bingley not known? Why did Elizabeth lift her chin now and then when she felt his gaze on her, as though she sought to prove her worth?

  “Come along, Darcy,” Richard called from the doorway.

  When had he got over there? Pulling his thoughtful gaze from Elizabeth, Darcy bowed to the room and left with his cousin.

  “What a jolly good visit that was,” Richard laughed. “I do love a fool show, and Mr. Collins was the best I’ve seen in some time. His poor wife and cousin, though.”

  “What about them?” Darcy asked as he focused on putting one foot in front of the other as they carried him further from Elizabeth and every muscle in his body quivered to return and take her into his arms.

  “They can see what a fool he is,” Richard laughed. “Well, that’s why there are such fools on the earth. So the plain spinsters can find a husband.”

  “Pardon? I would not call her plain or a spinster,” Darcy said in a hard edge.

  “What has you so riled up?” Richard examined him. “I did not mean to be rude, but Mrs. Collins’ bloom is gone. I would have thought her an old married lady if Aunt had not told us they recently wed.”

  Richard’s answer silenced the jealous beast in Darcy’s heart. Until…

  “Miss Bennet is a bonnie lass, though,” Richard grinned. “I wouldn’t mind getting to know her better…much better,” he added a wink.

  Without thinking, Darcy whacked the back of Richard’s head with an open hand. It gave a satisfying thwacking sound.

  “What the devil?” Richard spun and faced him.

  “I…” Darcy thought fast. What excuse could justify his reaction? “I know her father. She’s a gentlewoman. Treat her as such.”

  “I was only jesting,” Richard said and rubbed the sore spot. “You have never seen fit to defend any other lady I mentioned in such a way.”

  “Pardon me for being remiss in my duty of managing your tongue,” he said sardonically.

  Richard continued to peer at him.

  “I told you, I know her father. I respect him. They are not from the Ton. They do not know the game like others do. If you flirt with her…”

  God help him if Richard engaged her affections. He would hang for murdering his cousin.

  “Would it put you at ease if I promise to not flirt with Miss Bennet?”

  Darcy nodded, unsure that such a vow would ease his jumbled thoughts, but it could hardly hurt.

  “You have it then,” Richard said. “Perhaps when suitors come for Georgiana, I ought to meet them.”

  “Why is that?” Richard’s words about his sister were perhaps the only ones that could draw Darcy’s thoughts away from Elizabeth.

  “So you don’t call each of them out for pistols at dawn.”

  The relief of Richard’s joke after the intensity of all he had been feeling for Elizabeth caused Darcy to roar with laughter. “That would end it too quickly. I’d much rather have the fun of swords.”

  Richard grinned as they entered Rosings “Far more sportsmanlike.”

  They separated in the hall, Richard to re-join Lady Catherine and Anne while Darcy returned to his ledgers. The scene with Richard held some merit. Darcy had come up with ways to occupy his time and give himself a physical outlet as well. Instead of a morning ride, he could engage in target or fencing
practice.

  Yes, if he could conquer his infatuation with Elizabeth once, he could do so again. Her proximity would not impede his goals: bring Georgiana into Society, see her well-married, find a suitable spouse, father a legitimate heir, show the world he was a Darcy. Step by step, they were his building blocks to acceptance, and he would not weaken the foundation and thereby compromise the entire structure.

  Chapter Four

  For the next week, time stood frozen at Rosings. Each morning, Darcy would awake after a night of dreams filled with restless longing for Elizabeth. Dark shadows filled under his eyes. His valet greeted him with concern, and even Lady Catherine remarked on his state. After four nights of little to no sleep, he resorted to requesting a sleeping draught, but it had no effect.

  During the day, Darcy would linger over Lady Catherine’s accounts. They did not require the scrutiny, but he could claim his exhaustion as a source for the slowness of his task. When his body cried for movement, he resorted to vigorous target practice and fencing. Richard saw no reason to stay away from the entertainment of the Parsonage. After each visit, Darcy questioned him, eventually earning strange looks from his cousin.

  Darcy had planned to visit Rosings for a fortnight. He would not change his plans because of Elizabeth’s presence. He had run from her once when he left Hertfordshire, he would not do it again and leave early.

  Unfortunately, all the arguments he had made against the match were proven false. Her insupportable family was of no consequence when they were miles away. Lady Catherine liked her. Undoubtedly, she would not like Darcy marrying Elizabeth, but she had no complaints about the acquaintance or her situation in life. Richard was delighted with her wit and grace. Astonishingly, Elizabeth functioned well in the circle of Darcy’s peers and family. She would make the leap to his station without fault. Her comparative poverty meant nothing to him with all the Darcy wealth.

  The only remaining doubt in his mind relied on memories of his mother and the man who raised him. They had married unequally, but Mother had a very different sort of disposition than Elizabeth. Darcy suspected she would prefer the country life, which he also enjoyed. However, she had been to London. And more than a few times for a brief visit, he was sure. Cheapside was not Mayfair, but the crowd and noise of London were the same everywhere.

  Darcy had tossed aside his pen and stood by a window in the library. Half a mile down the lane, he could make out the church steeple. Next to it was the parsonage and Elizabeth. So close…

  He put a hand against the glass and braced himself as he rested his forehead on a pane. His solitude was broken by the entry of Richard. Darcy whirled to face his cousin. It would not do for the other man to believe Darcy having a fit of the doldrums. “Another visit to the Parsonage?”

  Richard nodded and relaxed in a chair.

  “Why do you go so often?”

  “You mean aside from the exciting company here?” Richard’s wry tone belied his sarcasm. “Not everyone is like you, Darcy. Not everyone is content to sit in silence the whole day.”

  “I apologise,” Darcy said. “I had not meant to neglect you.”

  Richard shook his head. “Not me. I welcome some peace and quiet after cannon blasts and drilling young scapegraces. Miss Lucas and Miss Bennet are not on holiday at some resort. There is no shopping. There is little to occupy a young lady here, especially with Lady Catherine now ignoring them.” Richard sighed and hooked a boot over his knee. “Even so, Miss Lucas must be used to living with Mrs. Collins, who probably has her home set up very much like her mother’s.”

  Darcy stared at his cousin. “Do I understand you mean that you visit to cheer Miss Bennet?” A festering bit of jealousy rose in his throat. “I thought you said you would not flirt.”

  “I am not!” Richard insisted. “I am being a friend.”

  Darcy’s brows furrowed as he considered his cousin’s words. Elizabeth felt unhappy here? Well, who could blame her with the company of Mr. Collins and Lady Catherine? “What does she say to you, friend?”

  “Oh, we talk of nothing serious,” Richard waved his hand. “As well-practiced as she is in conversation, it would take more than a week old’s acquaintance for there to be things of substance.”

  It did not sound like Elizabeth to be vapid. “Substance?”

  “We talk about music and books. General drawing room talk,” Richard shrugged. “I gather we feel similarly on many things, but they are the sorts of things that anyone with more sense than Collins or our Aunt would feel.”

  Elizabeth had talked about soul-baring things with him at Netherfield. Did she miss that stimulus as much as he did? Perhaps, if he considered that his motive was to ease her discomfort and not to indulge his attraction, he could give her the opportunity to experience something beyond Mrs. Collins’ parlour.

  Richard and Darcy fell into conversation regarding other subjects until it was time for dinner.

  “Aunt,” said Darcy as the soup was served, “did you intend to invite Mr. Collins and his guests to tea tomorrow evening?”

  “Why should I do that?” Her ladyship’s soup spoon hovered above her bowl as though her nephew had sprouted another head. “Tomorrow is Easter.”

  “You often invited Dr. Montague,” Darcy explained. “You would not wish to seem exclusive or unkind.”

  “That was many years ago!” She put down the spoon. “He was in poor health the last four years, and I could not invite the curate he hired.”

  “And now?”

  “Now, I see no need to entertain my parson when my nephews are present.”

  “Because he is not a Doctor of Divinity?” Richard asked.

  “Dr. Montague was a cousin to Lady Montague-Churchill. They are of two very different sorts of backgrounds,” Lady Catherine explained.

  “Lady Montagu-Churchill came from no great distinction,” Darcy said. “Her father had been a tradesman as much as Mrs. Collins’ father was.” The lady had married into an impoverished title. When she inherited Mr. Montagu’s funds, her husband added the surname to his own.

  “And Miss Bennet is the daughter of a gentleman,” Richard pressed.

  Darcy would have appreciated the help if he did not worry his cousin had ulterior reasons.

  “Mother,” Anne rasped, her frailty more evident than ever, “I do miss the ladies.”

  “Why should you need the ladies when Dar—your cousins are here?”

  Richard covered a laugh at Lady Catherine’s slip of the tongue with a cough.

  “Very well,” Lady Catherine conceded. “We shall invite them to tea in the evening. However, I will not have them for dinner.”

  “An excellent and proper compromise,” Darcy smiled.

  Somehow, the remainder of the meal, in which his aunt continued to suggest an attachment between him and Anne, seemed bearable. He would see Elizabeth’s face light up in amusement again. Her eyes would dance not just from the effect of candlelight but in joy. Her need for excellent company would be satisfied—surely, he and Richard qualified as such. Something about picturing her in the drawing room at Rosings set his heart to racing. In his mind’s eye, she seemed to belong perfectly in the place. She belonged at his side.

  *****

  The following morning, Darcy waited impatiently for the others to gather in the entry. They would take Lady Catherine’s barouche box and arrive together. He had nearly made up his mind to walk to the church alone when the others arrived. How did they always arrive together? There was some sort of grace to knowing when others were leaving their chambers and Darcy had never known the secret. As much as George Darcy had grilled pedigree and estate management into his heir’s head, things like that seemed to occur naturally to the set born into them. No education could teach Fitzwilliam Darcy the social niceties he did not experience in his formative years.

  The church service itself seemed to take forever. Mr. Collins’ text varied little from any other Easter sermon, but he delivered it poorly. If he had to earn his keep, th
e man would be a pauper. As it was, most of the congregants had fallen asleep as the rector’s voice droned on and on. From his position in Lady Catherine’s pew, Darcy could not see Elizabeth. His eyes felt starved for her. Merely knowing she was in the same building as he made his skin tingle.

  When the sermon was over, Mr. Collins did his duty. That is to say, he preened over Lady Catherine and ignored the members of the parish. Darcy noted that Mrs. Collins, and by extension her sister and friend, did the office instead. At least they knew what was truly due.

  Without hearing the words, Darcy knew when Lady Catherine had rendered her invitation. Mr. Collins’ jaw dropped in awe and then snapped up with such a force it forced his head to quiver. Colour rising and eyes widening, he bowed to her ladyship and belatedly called out his thanks as she walked away. Then, Collins raced over to the women of his party. He talked with such rapidity Darcy wondered how he could breathe. Mrs. Collins, although Darcy had always thought she was a sensible woman, displayed far more glee at the news than it deserved. Her sister followed her suit. Elizabeth, lovely Elizabeth with green trimming her gown and bonnet, merely smiled and nodded. Darcy knew the expression well. She was restraining herself; holding herself back from laughing outright and making a spectacle. Seeing her hover between laughter and demurral, she beamed like a lighthouse on a coast and he, Darcy, a frigate in danger of being lost. Her cheerful disposition warmed Darcy’s soul.

  “Darcy, we are leaving!” Lady Catherine commanded as she walked past, ripping his gaze away from the vision of loveliness.

  Interminable hours passed before the Hunsford party arrived at Rosings. Fortunately, Lady Catherine and Anne had spent the hours until dinner in their chambers. Then, Darcy only needed to survive the many-coursed event, allowing his aunt’s words to flow in one ear and out the other, as usual. After the meal, he fidgeted in his seat, pulled on his waistcoat, and fiddled with his cufflinks.

  “Would you cease all that?” Richard exclaimed as he tapped ash from his cigar. Taking a long draw, he puffed the smoke out in circles.