by Leenie Brown
“Not gone to Scotland?” Mr. Bennet muttered for the third time since they had been told what news Mrs. Smith had regarding Lydia.
“So it appears,” said Darcy.
Mr. Bennet shifted so that he could see Darcy. “Is there a way to inform the colonel of our change in plans?’
Darcy stopped mid stride and turned to face Mr. Bennet. “Richard said he would stop at Pemberley.” He furrowed his brow. “He may still be there.” His eyes fell on the writing table. He might be able to send a message and keep Richard and Bingley from riding to Scotland unnecessarily. If he did not stop them at Pemberley, he would have to go after them, and that would take him away from Elizabeth yet again. He sat down at the desk and lifted the letter that was only partially written to put it to the side. However, his eyes caught the name at the top of the page, and before he could pull them away, he had read the first few lines.
Mr. Darcy,
Forgive my impropriety in writing to you, but there is a disturbing matter which must be brought to your attention. I shall not dither about but shall come directly to the point. My sister, Lydia, has done something quite foolish and has travelled to Derbyshire in the company of Mr. Wickham.
Darcy pulled his eyes from the letter and lay it to the side as intended. Though he desired to read the remainder, he needed to send his message to Richard as quickly as possible. However, he promised himself, as soon as his task was done, he would return to the letter Elizabeth had been writing him.
“A messenger will be needed to carry this.” Darcy placed a clean paper on the desk, giving Mr. Bennet the briefest of glances before setting about the business of writing to his cousin. Before the ink was dry enough for the message to be folded, a lad from the stables had appeared. So, as he folded the message, Darcy gave instruction to the boy about its delivery. Then, as Mr. Bennet returned to his position of watching at the window, Darcy picked up the letter he had placed to the side and continued reading.
Although her maid travelled with her, they spent more than one night on the road. It is my understanding that they were never parted while they travelled — not even to sleep. I am certain that you can see the gravity of this situation and that the solution for salvaging her reputation is for her to marry Mr. Wickham. However, she has not yet agreed to the arrangement. Indeed, both she and Mr. Wickham seem to be most vehemently opposed to such a suggestion. My uncle has written to my father, and we await his decision.
My heart is grieved not only at the foolishness of my sister and the life to which she is consigning herself but also for you and your sister. The thought of bringing such a man as Mr. Wickham into your family as a relation is nearly too awful to contemplate. To think that I should be the cause of such grief! It is overwhelming. And so, I release you from your promise. I cannot ─
There was no more. The letter had been left incomplete, but the portion that was there struck panic in Darcy’s heart. She was turning him away? He read it again and then a third time. “No.” He shook his head and stood. “She will not release me.” He took up his hat. “I must find her.”
Darcy was nearly at the stables before Mr. Bennet caught up to him. “Elizabeth has broken the engagement?” he asked between laboured breaths.
Darcy handed Mr. Bennet the letter as he ordered a horse readied.
“It is incomplete,” said Mr. Bennet to the back of the man in front of him.
“It is complete enough.”
Mr. Bennet placed a hand on Darcy’s shoulder. “It is never complete enough until the full matter has been told.” He smiled gently when Darcy looked over his shoulder. “Allow her to finish her thoughts. They may not be as you assume.” He handed the letter back to Darcy. “I will wait here, and I would suggest you do the same, but I am certain such a suggestion would not be heeded.”
He chuckled at Darcy’s expression. “No, a man violently in love is not one to sit idly by and wait.” He removed his hand from Darcy’s shoulder. “Be patient with her. Her tongue may be sharp, but her heart is tender.” Then, he turned and ambled back toward the house.
Darcy tucked the letter into his pocket and mounted the horse that had been brought to him. With a cluck and a nudge, he urged the horse toward the road. Several minutes later, he drew to a stop before the parsonage.
“Philip,” he called in greeting to the man, who was making his way towards him.
“Darcy, we had not expected to see you so soon.” Philip looked nervously toward the house.
“Is she here?” Darcy asked. “Is Elizabeth here?” He repeated when Philip did not respond immediately.
“She is.” Philip stepped in front of his friend. “Some things have happened –.”
“I know,” Darcy pushed his way past Philip. “Which is why I must see her without delay.” Darcy hurried into the house. She would not release him from his promise. She would not refuse him again. He would make certain of it, and she could explain the rest of her letter after he had.
There were others in the room, but aside from Lucy, to whom he nodded a greeting, he was unsure of who they were, for he was looking for one person and one person only, and he had found her the instant he had entered.
“Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth said in surprise as he approached her.
He pulled the letter from his pocket. “You will not release me from my promise,” he said. “I will not allow it, for I love you, Elizabeth Bennet. I would endure a connection to a thousand men such as Wickham for you.”
“You would?” She asked, a smile spreading across her face and relief washing through her spirit.
“I would if you will but say you will have me.”
She nodded as tears formed in her eyes. “I will.”
He turned toward Philip. “Call the banns,” he said with a smile. Then, he turned his attention back to Elizabeth. “It seems I shall be marrying.” And with that, he gathered Elizabeth into his arms and kissed her soundly.
~*~*~
“It is rarely who you expect,” said Philip to Darcy later after all of the party from Willow Hall had left except Elizabeth, who had stayed behind at Lucy’s request. Philip knew that it was an effort to give Darcy a few moments of calm before having to face the mix of delight and concern that would hang over Willow Hall. Large groups and high emotions had never been something with which Darcy had been comfortable.
Darcy shook his head. “She is not what I expected. She is far better.”
“That is just how I feel about Lucy,” agreed Philip. “God works in mysterious ways.”
“That he does,” agreed Mr. Harker from his chair. “I would not be surprised if the Good Lord provided a ram in the thicket for Miss Lydia.”
Darcy shot him an inquisitive look.
“Faith, my lad. That is what trials test and strengthen. Abraham was put to the test and just when the dire deed was to be completed, a ram was provided. And if the Lord could save Isaac from death, I believe He can save Miss Lydia from Wickham. Did He not save Lucy and Georgiana?”
“He did,” Darcy acknowledged.
“Well, then,” the elderly man pushed himself from his chair, “I shall go home and entreat the Lord for such a miracle.” He stopped in front of Darcy. “Miss Elizabeth seems a fine choice. Your mother and father would be pleased.” He held out a hand which, though wrinkled, was steady and strong. “My joy to you both.” He clucked his tongue at Philip as the younger man stood to give his mentor assistance in exiting the house. “Mrs. Barnes will see me home, young man. You have guests.”
Philip thought to protest, but from the set of Mr. Harker’s jaw, he knew it would be to no avail. The gentleman’s eyes might be growing dim, but his spirit of independence was not. So, he merely thanked him for his visit.
“You know, Darcy is a much better choice for her than your brother,” Mr. Harker whispered as he waited for Lucy’s aunt to say her farewells and join him. “And don’t let your sister attempt to match Miss Bennet with Marcus either. She’s a lovely girl, but far too tame. Marcus needs
a wife with a bit of spirit.” He chuckled. “Perhaps he can be the ram in the thicket,” he said as he held out an arm to Mrs. Barnes.
Philip shook his head and sighed as he took his seat again.
“Mary Ellen truly was attempting to match Elizabeth with Marcus?” Darcy asked.
“Until you arrived,” admitted Philip, “but Lucy set her straight after seeing how you greeted Miss Elizabeth.”
“Has she attempted to match him with Miss Bennet?”
Philip shook his head. “He has shown no interest, so she has focused her work on our cousin — although I am not certain much encouragement is needed on either side.”
Darcy’s heart sank at the news. “Miss Bennet has shown interest in Harris?”
“Some.” Philip studied his friend’s expression. “There is a reason Mary Ellen should not meddle?”
Darcy nodded slowly. “Bingley.”
Philip scrubbed his hands down his face. “Maybe if Mary Ellen would marry, she would stop her interference with all her single relations.”
“Should I speak to Richard then?” Darcy laughed at the surprise on Philip’s face.
“You know?”
Darcy shrugged. “I do. It seems the only one who does not is my cousin.”
Philip chuckled. “I suppose that is because she is not what he expects.”
“She never is, is she?” Darcy asked, smiling at Elizabeth. He heard the crunch of gravel under horses’ hooves and carriage wheels approach the house. “My carriage has arrived. I should see Elizabeth back to Willow Hall.”
~*~*~
Elizabeth sat on the bench next to Darcy. He watched her nervously smooth her skirts. Her cheeks were flushed a lovely rose colour.
“I know it is not entirely proper,” he began, trying to help her feel at ease.
She shook her head. “No, it is not.” She smiled at him impertinently. “But neither is kissing a gentleman in public, and I have already done that today.”
“And I hope you might kiss him again in private.”
Her cheeks grew even more rosy. “I would like that,” her admission was barely above a whisper.
He slid closer to her and bent his mouth to hers, kissing her softly at first and then more firmly as he wrapped her in his embrace. Breaking their kiss, he held her close and enjoyed her presence in his arms before he spoke of the letter.
“You thought I was sending you away?”
He nodded. “But your father told me that my assumption might not be true.”
“Yet, you accused me of that very thing at the parsonage.” She peeked up at him. “Explain yourself, sir.”
He kissed her upturned forehead. “I decided it did not matter how you were to conclude that letter. I was going to make certain you could not refuse me.”
“So you professed your love for me in the sitting room at a parsonage.”
He chuckled. “Yes. Not that it was the first time I have done so.”
She squeezed him tight. “I can never apologize enough for how I refused you. It is why I was not going to refuse you in that letter. I lost you once through my foolishness. I would not be the one to send you away again. I released you from our agreement so that you might choose without fear of breaking your promise to me.” She looked up at him again. “I hoped you would choose me, but . . .”
“Knowing what you know of my relationship with Wickham, you would not force me to be tied to him.”
She nodded. “I could not bear the thought of your growing to despise me for the connection.”
He tipped her chin up so that he could kiss her once again. “I will see him well-situated and your sister as safe as can be, and I will do so gladly as long as you are mine.”
“You are too good,” she said. “You are not what I expected.”
“Nor are you what I expected.” He smiled down at her. “But Philip assures me that that is how it is with love. And I do love you, Elizabeth Bennet.”
“And I love you, Fitzwilliam Darcy,” she said stretching up to kiss him.
And so the unlikely pair — he, the nephew of an earl and master of a grand estate, and she, the daughter of a country gentleman and his tenant’s guest — passed the last few miles to Willow Hall wrapped in each other’s arms, speaking in word and deed of their love for each other.
So Very Unexpected
Willow Hall Romance, Book 3
A Pride and Prejudice Variation Novel
Chapter 1
Lydia Bennet pulled the door to Willow Hall closed as quietly as she could. She did not want to wake a single person, especially her uncle. Marry Wickham? A lieutenant? A man who cheated and played cards far too often? Did her uncle wish for her to be a pauper? She knew she was not made for such lowly circumstances. Did Uncle Gardiner not also know? If she married Wickham, she might be limited to just one maid of all work! Lydia shuddered at the thought.
Reaching the gate, she turned to take one last look at Willow Hall and then, biting her lip, continued on to the road. Her heart beat loudly in her chest. She had done some things before which required a good dose of fortitude, but none had been so daring as this. Above her, the moon was only a sliver and clouds blocked many of the stars. Lydia stood looking down the road one way and then the other for a few minutes. Surely, the carriage that brought her to Willow Hall had turned left into the driveway, or was it right? She sighed and crouched down to look more closely at the ground. It was no use; there were groves from carriages both to her right and to her left. With a shrug, she swallowed her fear and turned in the direction her mind had first told her must be the way to Kympton.
She felt a need to whistle to fill the silence of the night, but she dared not. She would do nothing to draw attention to herself from anyone or anything. The thought sent a shiver down her spine. This was foolish and far too dangerous. She paused, turned back, and then remembering her uncle’s words, “It must be done. You must marry him to save both your reputation and that of your family.” She turned away from Willow Hall once again and continued on her way.
For the next twenty minutes, she entertained herself with thoughts of ribbons, lace, and bonnets, describing to herself the perfect hat to accompany the new yellow dress she would have when she reached home. Mama would see to it. Lydia smiled to herself. Mama always saw to what Lydia wanted even when Papa was reticent. Mama would not see her married to a lieutenant. A captain was the lowest rank which Mama, and truly anyone of sense, would find acceptable. A lieutenant’s wife! Indeed! Lydia nearly laughed at the thought until she heard something ─ a scurrying beside the road to her right. Something very like a fit of nerves gripped her heart. Not wishing to be preyed on by either man or beast, Lydia scooted off the road and into the stand of trees on the left. The woods indeed felt safer. She picked her way between the trees, not entirely sure if she was still travelling in the same direction as she had intended, but going back toward that scurrying sound was not an option.
After another twenty minutes of walking and feeling quite turned about and tired, Lydia spotted a cottage. It was a tiny stone cottage with a small structure for storage next to it. Perhaps she could rest there and be tucked away from the notice of any night creatures. She just wished a moment to rest so that this feeling of being utterly lost would vanish.
She rapped lightly on the door to the storage building. She lay her ear against the wood, and after a few minutes of listening intently and hearing no sounds, she opened the door. The structure housed nothing ─ not a scythe, not a rake, not a bucket. There were no flowers or herbs hanging from the rafters to dry. It was empty. Completely and entirely empty. Lydia studied the perplexing emptiness for a moment before finding a corner and sitting down with her feet tucked beneath her and her head resting, at first, tentatively, and then more fully leaning into the wall as she relaxed.
~*~*~
The first rays of sun poked their fingers through a small gap between two boards on the wall opposite Lydia. The light played with her hair and then crept across he
r face, tickling first her nose and then her eyelashes. Lydia swatted at the offending light and turned her head to avoid it. Her hair caught on a nail that had not been hammered in completely, and the sharp pain of the tugging woke her. She rubbed her eyes and looked around the shed. In the light of the morning, it was not quite so empty as it had been in lantern light. In one corner, there were five pieces of wood neatly stacked, but that was all — five pieces of wood and a lot of nothing else.
She peeked out the door. There was neither the smell of a fire nor a wisp of smoke rising from the chimney of the cottage. Confident she was alone, she stepped out of her sleeping spot and surveyed her surroundings. Nothing looked familiar. There were fields of grass and flowers beyond the cottage and trees behind her. To her left was a slope that descended for some distance. She had not seen any of this when they had travelled from Kympton to Willow Hall. She would have remembered it, for it was beautiful ─ the kind of beautiful that caused one to stop and admire it for hours, the kind of beautiful that inspired paintings and poems, the kind of beautiful that brought a smile to her face and peace to her heart.
After several minutes of admiring her surroundings, Lydia decided it was time to explore the cottage. Carefully, she opened the door, calling out a greeting as she did, just in case someone might be within. She waited for a reply, and when none came, she entered. Dust covered the table and the three glasses that sat turned upside down on the small cabinet next to a larger cupboard with doors. In the small sitting room, Lydia took a seat on a large chair in front of the fireplace. The back of the chair wrapped up and around her. She leaned her head against its back. Ah, she sighed with pleasure. Even though the fabric of the chair was worn so thin that the pattern was little more than a shadow, this was much more comfortable than that shed.
She allowed herself to close her eyes and enjoy the comfort for a what she thought was a moment. However, when one is as tired from travelling in crowded coaches, debating with one’s relative to avoid an untenable marriage, and then walking for nearly an hour in a circular path along a road and amongst trees while fearing that some creature was going to attack her, even a moment of rest can stretch into hours.