by Laura Hile
“Lies, all of it! Preposterous untruths!” Collins turned to Elizabeth’s uncle. “Surely you see that Mr. Darcy is mad.”
“I see nothing of the sort. I am aware that my niece is reluctant to enter into this marriage. She will do so over my objections.”
“Brother!” wailed Mrs. Bennet.
“And mine as well,” said another voice—Elizabeth’s aunt?
“The bride must answer for herself,” said Dr. Bentley.
“Lizzy!” cried Mrs. Bennet. “You cannot jilt a man at the altar! What will people say?”
Collins opened his mouth to speak, but Darcy beat him to it. “Well, Miss Elizabeth?” he said gently. “What say you? Will you have Mr. Collins—the real Collins—as your husband? Or,” he added, “will you have me?”
Dr. Bentley closed his book.
“That letter,” said Elizabeth, “was written by you?”
“A poorly-worded expression of my regard, and a shambling explanation. I do not wonder that you were confused.”
“I read only the first half-page. How did it begin?”
Collins stamped his foot. “Of course he does not remember.”
Elizabeth’s uncle held up a quelling hand. “I believe Mr. Darcy has the floor.” He turned to Darcy. “Are you able to answer, sir?”
Darcy’s lips twitched into a smile. “I fear so, for I rewrote it several times. The greeting is: Elizabeth, my Beloved.”
He heard Elizabeth’s intake of breath—she remembered!
“Then the preamble, something about this being my first love letter, which I shall not repeat here. And then this:
Be not alarmed. I do not intend to plague you with an execrable sonnet (which you will be obliged to admire) nor will I burst into song.”
Darcy paused. “I hope you will not ask me to prove this by singing,” he told her. “Collins has the better voice; I was only borrowing it.”
“What?” squealed Collins.
“Which song, Mr. Darcy?” demanded Elizabeth. “Which song did you sing?”
“Why are you asking him about something that I did?” cried Collins. “Er, that is—”
“Yes, Collins, tell us,” said Elizabeth’s uncle. “Which song did you sing?”
Collins shifted his weight. “I, ah, sang a hymn, of course. I forget which one. We shared a hymnal together in church, did we not?”
“No,” said Elizabeth flatly.
“It was in the drawing room at Longbourn,” Darcy said. “You played as I sang Purcell’s I protest against cringing and whining.”
“I did no such thing. I do not know any songs by Pur—” Collins stopped.
“Yes you do,” Mary burst out. “And you recited Shakespeare as well. We heard you, Mr. Collins. We all heard you.”
And then there was silence.
Darcy’s bashful smile returned. There he stood, gazing at Elizabeth, his hand on her shoulder, waiting for her to say something. A delicate blush now colored her cheeks; her eyes no longer held a hunted look.
“Who are you?” she whispered.
“I am your William,” he said simply. “Fitzwilliam Darcy. And I am entirely yours, if you wish it.”
The seconds ticked by.
“Body and soul,” Darcy added, unable to help himself. “Right down to the dimple in my chin.”
He heard her slight gasp.
“No!” cried Collins. “William is my name, not yours!” He made a lunge for Elizabeth, but her uncle held him back.
Darcy’s gaze never left Elizabeth’s face. Hesitation was in her eyes, along with disbelief—or was it wonder?
“The man is lying,” cried Collins. “You are betrothed to me! To me!”
Elizabeth gave a start and turned to Collins.
“That’s better,” said Collins. “Now then, shall we dispense with this foolishness?” He snatched her hand, causing the sprigs of winter sweet to fall to the floor. “Continue,” he told Dr. Bentley.
Elizabeth pulled free of Collins’ grasp. “No, sir,” she said distinctly. “I cannot—and will not—marry you.”
Mrs. Bennet gave a faint scream.
“But—” sputtered Collins.
Elizabeth’s uncle stepped forward. “The lady has spoken, Collins,” he said. “Kindly stand down.”
“But—she is mine!”
Dr. Bentley cleared his throat. “Dearly beloved,” he announced, “let us pause for a moment of silent prayer. For it seems that the bride has had a change of heart.”
There was some noise as Collins was escorted from the sanctuary. Darcy’s attention remained fixed on Elizabeth.
“William?” she whispered. “You were—William—all the time? The snowstorm, the foiled elopement, the—kisses?”
Darcy enfolded her hands in both his own. “I fear so, my love.”
Elizabeth did not pull away. She lowered her gaze, studying their entwined fingers. Darcy felt the seconds pass. Would she believe? Would she dare to trust him?
And then she lifted her eyes. “You are a stranger to me,” she said slowly, “and yet—and yet I know you very well.”
“You do, yes.” Darcy found it difficult to continue. “Would you—care to have me as your very own?”
“Would I?” she said.
And with a cry, Elizabeth released his hands and threw her arms around him.
“Lizzy!” cried her mother.
But if Mrs. Bennet had anything more to say, Fitzwilliam Darcy did not hear.
49 Epilogue:
Upon A Summer’s Day
When they reached Lambton, Darcy ordered the top taken down, and the horses now traveled at a leisurely pace. Majestic oaks and beeches, clothed in the tender green of spring, created an enchanted world of dappled light and birdsong. The Pemberley Woods were beautiful in any season, but this glorious June day was beyond compare.
Even so, as they turned in at the Lodge, Darcy found himself on edge. Was he nervous? What a thought! And yet he had seen the effect that Pemberley had on people, Caroline Bingley in particular.
But what did it matter? Elizabeth had loved him when he’d been Collins, and she trusted him even when he’d been called ‘Mad Darcy.’ Her family never believed the story of the exchange, nor had Fitz. Only Elizabeth.
Darcy studied his bride’s upturned face, so lovely in the subdued light.
“Such an ancient, beautiful woodland,” said Elizabeth softly. “Is the house much farther?”
An innocent inquiry and yet Darcy hesitated, for the estate was extensive. By comparison, Longbourn’s park was miniscule. “I am afraid it is,” he said.
She smiled. “Then I shall not be walking to Clarke’s—or its equivalent—to exchange a book.”
Was there a lending library in the village? Darcy had no idea. And how could he explain about the extent of Pemberley’s collection of books?
“I ought to have shown you Lambton more closely,” he said. “It’s just that I wished—”
“—to be at home,” she finished for him. “And so do I.”
He cleared his throat. “You will find the house rather different from Longbourn,” he said. “Not as, how shall I say? Cozy?”
“I expect it is like Netherfield, only better—because it is yours.”
“Ours,” Darcy amended.
He noticed the faint blush on her cheeks and a shy smile of pleasure. “By the goodness of God,” he went on, “we take our place as stewards, you and I.”
This was the honest truth, a thing Darcy had not taken to heart until recently. He and Elizabeth were Pemberley’s caretakers, not her owners. In this there was room for pleasure, but not for pride. After all, he hadn’t earned God’s favor, and he certainly did not deserve it. Collins might strut and crow over Longbourn House, but to what end?
The road descended deeper into the woodland, where the shade was cool and welcoming.
“This is delightful.” Elizabeth unfastened the ribbons of her bonnet and laid it aside. “Just listen to the birds.”
Again Darcy was str
uck by her expression of wonder. This lovely woman, who had so thoroughly captured his heart, shared a sincere love of nature! He must teach her to ride. By heaven, he would do better than he had as Collins’ teacher!
A tendril of Elizabeth’s hair escaped; Darcy leaned forward to gently tuck it behind her ear. “Just beyond that rise of land lies a bluebell wood,” he said. “There are several on the estate.”
“I would love to explore each one.” She dimpled. “You know how fond I am of woodland walks. And of mud.”
Yes, he did know; he knew it as himself, as Darcy. Without meaning to, he bleated out his thought. “I am sorry that you had to leave your family home.”
She looked her surprise.
“You did say once, when I was Collins, that you were relieved to be able to remain.”
“Nonsense,” she said cheerfully. “Pemberley is very much better!” And then she added, more seriously, “I always knew that I would leave one day. We all did. But I have memories.”
And Darcy had memories too. “Do you know,” he said, “there are times when I rather miss being Collins? His singing voice, for one. And his ability to enter a room unnoticed.”
He saw the ghost of a smile. “And don’t you dare agree,” he added.
“I always noticed you,” she countered. “As for the voice, when Mr. Collins sings words penned by others, perhaps he can be pleasing. But the mouth that sings also speaks what is in his mind.”
“Or what isn’t,” quipped Darcy.
“And therein lies danger! It is a great relief to be away from Mr. Collins. I cannot think why Charlotte accepted his proposal.”
“For the same reason a certain young woman, who shall remain unnamed, would gladly have accepted mine: the lure of a landed estate.”
“But Charlotte does not love Mr. Collins,” Elizabeth burst out. “She does not know what love is, not as you and I do! And when I think of being his wife, of—!”
They shared a look.
It was all Darcy could do not to laugh. In the past six months, Collins had become even more peevish—and fatter, too.
“She must therefore learn to love Longbourn House instead,” he said lightly. “I believe children are counted as consolation.”
“Children” Elizabeth repeated. “With Mr. Collins.”
They shared another look. “Best not to think of it, my love,” he whispered.
“Indeed. Are we now nearer to the house?”
“Ah, no,” he said.
“It is through the woods?”
“And over this set of hills. We need to cross the river as well. The house is on the opposite side of the valley.”
“The valley,” he heard her whisper.
Elizabeth grew quiet for the next half mile, as they made the gradual ascent. At last they emerged from the woods, and Darcy told his driver to pull up. He slid into the forward-facing seat beside his wife.
Across the valley stood Pemberley House, large and handsome, its stone walls golden in the afternoon light. Behind it rose a ridge of high wooded hills; wide lawns swept down to the lake. The lake was blue today, Darcy noted, as blue as the cloudless sky.
He put his arm around Elizabeth, enjoying her warmth against his side. “Do you like it?” he whispered into her ear.
Elizabeth did not answer right away, nor did Darcy press her. There were swans on the lake today, unusual for this time of year.
“I have never seen a house so perfectly situated,” Elizabeth said at last. There was another pause. “I was wrong. Pemberley is not at all like Netherfield.”
Darcy breathed in her scent as he drew her closer. “I am glad you approve.”
“Approve?” Elizabeth turned to him. “You were willing,” she said slowly, “to give up all this to live at Longbourn?”
“To live at Longbourn with you,” he amended. “And the answer is yes, absolutely.” He felt his lips curve into a smile. “Love does not count the cost, and neither did I.”
“Oh,” she whispered.
And because her soft lips were invitingly near, Darcy kissed her—kissed her in spite of the driver and footman—just as he had done when he was Collins. Simply because he could.
The End
WORKS QUOTED
Chapter 1
Jane Austen. Pride and Prejudice, 1813
(bits of dialog from Mr. Collins, Mrs. Bennet)
Chapter 2
Twa Corbies (Scottish folk ballad)
Chapter 17
William Shakespeare. Sonnet 51, 73
Henry Purcell. If Music Be the Food of Love
Henry Purcell. I Resolve Against Cringing and Whining
Chapter 20
William Shakespeare. Othello, Act 3
Chapter 30
With Women and Wine I Defy Every Care
(18th century drinking song)
Chapter 49
Church of England. Book of Common Prayer, 1662
Scripture quotations are from The Holy Bible: King James Version, 1611
ABOUT LAURA HILE
Thank you so much for reading.
It is a pleasure to write for thinking readers.
Darcy By Any Other Name is a surprise, a novel
I never thought I’d write—because surely every
Pride and Prejudice variation has been explored!
Ah, but then I stumbled upon a most intriguing idea…
I live in the Pacific Northwest with my husband,
sons, and a collection of antique clocks.
One day I hope to add a cat or three.
The comedy I come by in my work as a teacher. There’s never a dull moment with teens!
Visit me on-line at Laurahile.com
Do stop by. I’d love to meet you.
Join my mailing list about new releases.
You can also find me on Facebook and Twitter.
ALSO BY LAURA HILE
Laugh out loud, fall in love,
be swept away by…
MERCY’S EMBRACE
Readers are loving Laura Hile’s joyous Mercy’s Embrace Regency novels, which feature the so-arrogant Elizabeth Elliot from Jane Austen’s Persuasion.
But Miss Elliot is not as smart as she thinks,
and that’s where the fun begins.
Come discover Jane Austen’s ‘Other Elizabeth,’ as she plunges headlong into love with a dashing naval officer who is so much more than her match.
“…enjoyable from beginning to the last page of the third book. This treasure should be read sooner than later.”
~Austenprose.com
“The world of Jane Austen’s Persuasion fairly sparkles under Laura Hile’s deft and humorous touch.”
~Pamela Aidan, author, Fitzwilliam Darcy, Gentleman
“I am greatly enjoying Ms. Hile’s respectful renderings of these beloved Austen characters, and I relish her fast-paced and thrilling style.”
~Austenesque Reviews
Table of Contents
Any Savage Can Dance
Any Savage Can Dance
2A Fine Figure of a Man
3Hit or Miss
4Barefaced Questions
5Rufty Tufty
6Whirligig
7Such Amiable Qualities
8What I Suffer
9Petticoat Wag
10Step Stately!
11Rose is Red, Rose is White
12No Humor at Present
13To Crown the Whole
14A Fine Thing
15Picking of Sticks
16Drive the Cold Winter Away
17Cheerily and Merrily
18A Parson’s Farewell
19The Jovial Beggars
20New, New Nothing
21Very Lively Hopes
22Of Mean Understanding
23A Fine Companion
24More Secrets Than One
25A Matter of Pride
26Rag, Tag, and Bobtail
27If All The World Were Paper
28Faults on All Sides
29Topsy
-Turvy
30Decked in the Garb of Fancy
31For A Kingdom
32Certainly Very Little
33But Look at Home
34Let Soldiers Fight
35Ranting, Roaring, Rattling Boys
36Of Chequered Fortune
37Fields of Frost
38He Knew Not How
39Past Endurance
40Tutor of Truth
41Perils of Men
42Give Me Leave
43Tolling the Bell
44My Reasons I’ll Own
45‘Tis Certain So
46 Fain I Would
47 Jump at the Sun
48 Turn of the Tide
49 Epilogue: Upon A Summer’s Day