Only a Heartbeat Away: Pride and Prejudice Novella

by Dixon, P. O.

  Elizabeth cast a glance in Miss de Bourgh’s direction to see how she bore her mother’s commendations. She saw for herself that Mr. Collins had given a fair assessment of the young heiress when describing her as sickly. Elizabeth also looked at Mr. Darcy to see how cordially he assented to his cousin’s praise only to discern no symptom of love. I suppose he might have been just as likely to marry Miss Caroline Bingley, were she a wealthy relation.

  “I understand you do not play very well, Miss Bennet, but one can hardly expect a great deal of competence from a young woman raised in a household of five daughters with no governess. I understand you did not have the benefit of the London masters either. What a shame it is to be reared under such disadvantageous circumstances.”

  Benevolence mixed with omnipotence lit her ladyship’s expression. “You shall come to Rosings every day during your stay and play on the pianoforte in Mrs. Jenkinson’s room. You would be in nobody’s way in that part of the house.”

  Elizabeth felt her temper rising. Fighting to maintain her composure, she looked across the room and feigned admiration of her ladyship’s garish mantel clock. How much more of this must I endure before dinner?

  Later that evening, when Lady Catherine, Elizabeth, Charlotte, Miss de Bourgh, and Mrs. Jenkinson were waiting for the gentleman to join them after dinner, her ladyship said to Elizabeth, “I am well aware that you rejected Mr. Collins’s hand in marriage. I assure you he would have been a fine husband, but in such cases as this, your imprudence has been the means of Mrs. Collins’s good fortune.” She curled her lips. “I believe people should not venture beyond their sphere. Do not suppose for one instant I have not seen the manner in which my nephews look at you. Although you are a very pretty young woman, you would be well advised to accept the offer of marriage from the young man your father has chosen for you when the time comes.”

  Just as she was finishing her speech, the gentlemen walked into the room. “There the two of you are. I was just counselling Miss Bennet of the advantages of staying in one’s own sphere when seeking to make a good match. But I do not have to remind either of you of that, for I am certain both of you know what is expected of you.”

  ~*~

  Elizabeth leisurely ambled along, agreeably engaged as she perused Jane’s last letter and dwelt on those passages that proved Jane and Bingley’s engagement was fulfilling her sister’s every notion of blissfulness. She could not have been happier, for if anyone deserved such contentment it was her eldest sister. Jane, who was all that was good and who possessed the temperament of an angel, was a great source of pride for Elizabeth. She counted upon Jane’s righteousness as devoutly as she depended upon the sun rising each day.

  Nearly every morning since they arrived in Kent, Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth had the uncanny knack of meeting in her favourite lane. That particular day, instead of being again surprised by Mr. Darcy, she saw on looking up that Colonel Fitzwilliam was meeting her. Immediately putting her letter away and bestowing a warm smile, she said, “I did not know before that you ever walked this way.”

  “I have been making the tour of the park. I intend to close it with a call at the Parsonage. Are you going much farther?”

  “No, I should have turned in a moment.” Accordingly, she did turn, and they walked towards the Parsonage together.

  “Darcy informed me that you are not planning to return to town with us. I was quite saddened to hear that.”

  “Indeed. My plans have always called for a longer stay, and I dare not disappoint my dear friend Charlotte by cutting our visit short.” Even though owing to her foolish husband, I would like nothing more than to leave earlier than I had planned. “I suspect you shall leave Kent very soon.” Taking with you, my last best hope of escaping my father’s scheme.

  “Yes—if Darcy does not put it off. I suspect he might, based upon something he said in passing. I, however, am at his disposal. He arranges the business just as he pleases.”

  “And if not able to please himself in the arrangement, he has at least pleasure in the great power of choice. I do not know anybody who seems more to enjoy the power of doing what he likes than Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth.

  “He likes to have his own way very well, but who among us does not? It is only that he has better means of having it than many others. He is rich, and many others are poor. I speak from experience. A younger son, you know, must be inured to self-denial and dependence.”

  “In my opinion, the younger son of an earl can know very little of either. Now seriously, what have you ever known of self-denial and dependence? When have you been prevented by want of money from going wherever you chose, or procuring anything you had a fancy for?”

  “These are home questions—and perhaps I cannot say I have experienced many hardships of that nature. But in matters of greater weight, I may suffer from want of money. Younger sons cannot marry where they like.”

  Smiling, Elizabeth remarked, “Unless where they like women of fortune, which I think they very often do.”

  “Our habits of expense make us too dependent, and there are not many in my rank of life who can afford to marry without some attention to money.”

  Does he mean his declaration for my benefit? Having been caught completely unprepared for his avowal, even a bit disappointed, she immediately considered his words in a light conducive to her resolve to have as little to do with Lady Catherine as possible.

  Were the colonel to fancy me, I might forever be forced to endure the officious aristocrat with regularity. She did not intend to regret him. Elizabeth’s spirits rose to playfulness. “And pray, what is the usual price of an earl’s younger son? Unless the elder brother is very sickly, I suppose you would not ask above fifty thousand pounds.”

  He answered her in the same style, and the subject dropped. Elizabeth did not mean for him to mistake her silence as a sign of her disappointed hopes, for she was anything but dismayed by now, such was the strength of her distaste for Lady Catherine. However, she did like the colonel and was satisfied they should always be amicable towards each other. Endeavouring to enjoy a bit of levity, she said, “I imagine your cousin brought you down with him chiefly for the sake of having someone at his disposal. I wonder he does not marry to secure a lasting convenience of that kind.”

  “Were Darcy inclined to marry, the woman of his choice would be most fortunate. However, I do not know that he ever intends to marry; at least not any time soon, and certainly not to any of the young women of his acquaintance whom I have had the privilege of meeting.”

  “Then, he does not mean to marry his cousin, Miss de Bourgh?”

  The colonel chuckled. “I suppose you have been listening to my aunt. I know of no one else who postulates such a ridiculous notion. Surely Darcy does not. When he marries, he will no doubt choose his bride from the highest circles, but it certainly will not be Anne.”

  A man of Mr. Darcy’s temperament and wealth in want of a wife of great fortune—this knowledge came as no surprise to her. She had supposed it to be Anne largely on Mr. Wickham’s testimony. How could he have been mistaken?

  What does it matter? Mr. Darcy’s name has never graced my list and for good reason. She had removed Mr. Wickham’s name from her list soon after her arrival in Kent when she had been informed by Charlotte that the gentleman had shown a preference for a young woman in Hertfordshire, a Miss Mary King, almost immediately after she received an inheritance of ten thousand pounds. Now she was compelled to remove the colonel’s name as well, leaving one choice—Mr. Justin Caseman.

  An uninterrupted silence ensued between Elizabeth and her walking companion. It was just as well for Elizabeth had much to consider. I am mere weeks from returning to Longbourn with no prospects other than the gentleman whom my parents have ordained as my future husband. What am I going to do?

  Chapter 12 ~ The Last Man in the World

  Elizabeth now expected to encounter Mr. Darcy in the lanes. As had always been the case, he often was content to walk in silence. Dur
ing those instances when he did speak, she had learned to ignore his cryptic talk of Rosings and future visits and the like. As long as she maintained a respectable distance from him and held fast to her conviction not to look into his eyes, walking with him was almost like being alone.

  To be able to enjoy such splendour as afforded by the beautiful lanes of Rosings without having to suffer the absurdity of its owner was something. Mr. Collins meant to change all that with the announcement of an invitation to dine at Rosings Park.

  The few times she had been in her ladyship’s company had proved to be just as tiresome as that initial introduction. Elizabeth’s determination that she would not go to dinner that evening was only matched by her cousin’s determination that she would. After ten minutes of heated debate on the matter, the proud man turned to his wife. “I blame you for this misfortune!”

  Charlotte coloured. She said nothing. Arguing with her husband was something she had learned not to do. He stalked over to the part of the room where Elizabeth sat.

  “I knew it was a mistake to invite you here. Lady Catherine was not at all pleased by your insolence during your initial meeting, just as I foretold, nor have you proved yourself worthy of her regard since then. Nonetheless, she deigned to invite you to Rosings yet again, and you stand here in my home and refuse to follow my dictates to honour my noble patroness’s benevolence.”

  “Mr. Collins, Eliza is unwell,” Charlotte pleaded. “She complains of a headache.”

  “That is utter nonsense, Mrs. Collins. How many times have you complained of headaches since we were married? When has a headache ever prevented you from doing your duty as a good wife?”

  He glared at his cousin. “Miss Elizabeth, I insist you head to your room this minute and prepare for the evening. Never have Mrs. Collins and I ignored my noble patroness’s summons. As long as you are a guest in my home and subject to my authority, you will abide by my edicts. Now, run along and be quick about it.”

  Who does he think he is speaking to? Oh! What was I thinking in accepting Charlotte’s invitation? I could not tolerate my ridiculous cousin in Hertfordshire. What made me suppose I could countenance him in his own home?

  “While it is true that as a guest in your home I ought to abide by your directives, Mr. Collins, I am not in the habit of subjugating my own opinions to the dictates of those whose sentiments are so adamantly opposed to my own.”

  He was about to speak, but Elizabeth was not done. She held up her hand. “After some thought, I have decided it is best to end this arrangement as soon as can be. I shall, therefore, write to my father and request the necessary preparations be made for my return to Hertfordshire.”

  “Eliza, please reconsider—”

  “Quiet, Mrs. Collins! For once, I can say my cousin and I are wholeheartedly in agreement.” He looked at Elizabeth with disgust. “Come, Mrs. Collins. We shall leave this instant; else we might keep her ladyship waiting.” He marched out the door, but Charlotte stood still. Her face bore a weary expression.

  “Mrs. Collins!”

  Elizabeth went to Charlotte’s side and placed her hand on her friend’s arm. “Charlotte, we shall have an opportunity to speak in the morning. You must not fret over me and risk increasing his ire. I shall be perfectly well here on my own this evening.”

  “Truly, Eliza?”

  “Indeed.” The two friends embraced. Poor Charlotte. Her lot in life is worse than I ever supposed.

  Later that evening, the sound of the doorbell roused Elizabeth. Her spirits fluttered a little when she supposed Colonel Fitzwilliam, who had called late in the evening once before, had come to enquire after her. However, the idea was soon banished, and her spirits were affected very differently when Mr. Darcy strode into the room.

  He rushed to Elizabeth’s side as soon as the servant shuffled out of the room and closed the door. He sat directly beside her and behaved as though he might take her hand in his. “I came to see you because Mrs. Collins said you were unwell.”

  A puzzling tingle waltzed across her shoulder and down her back. Elizabeth immediately moved to a chair across the room, sat, and folded her hands in her lap. “I am sorry I gave you cause for concern, sir. You need not have come, for I should hate to think I am keeping you away from your relatives.”

  Darcy stood, walked over to the mantelpiece, and leaned against it. “I am here out of concern for your well-being. You were perfectly well when last I saw you this morning. At least, I supposed you were. Has something happened since then? Did I say or do anything to cause you distress?”

  “No, Mr. Darcy.” I scarcely listen to a word you say.

  “Are you certain?”

  I am fairly certain you have little to say of any consequence. “Yes, Mr. Darcy. I am certain.”

  “You would tell me were that the case, would you not?”

  One only need speak to Mr. Collins, and apparently Lady Catherine, to know I have no compunction against speaking my mind. “Yes, Mr. Darcy.”

  “I ask because, I value honesty. I insist there must be no secrets between us.”

  Secrets between us? There he goes again, speaking in riddles. Elizabeth said nothing.

  “Pardon my saying this, but as you do not look unwell, I can only suppose you are purposely avoiding Lady Catherine.”

  Elizabeth drew a sharp breath. “Let us suppose you are correct, Mr. Darcy. Am I wrong to do so? I see no reason to purposely subject myself to her meddling and condescension. I am not my cousin!”

  “Actually, Miss Elizabeth, I wanted you to dine with us this evening. I had planned a special surprise for you.”

  “Mr. Darcy! Your aunt is insulting; she purposely gives offense. She—”

  Darcy interrupted. “I assure you, she is no worse than many of the other grande dames of Society. How shall you ever expect to conduct yourself in my world when you refuse to make allowances for my aunt?”

  Conduct myself in your world? “I beg your pardon, Mr. Darcy?”

  Darcy looked as if he wanted to retract his words. He did not. His voice determined, he said, “Miss Elizabeth. In vain, I have struggled. It will not do. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire you.” He swallowed hard. “Believe me; falling in love with you is the last thing in the world I ever wished for myself.”

  Elizabeth twisted her lips, which he must have interpreted as genuine concern.

  “Do not misunderstand me. My objections to loving you have nothing at all to do with you, but rather your family. All this I have determined I would put aside, for I have decided that once we are married you need not ever associate with those people again.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes widened. This he must have considered sufficient encouragement to argue the merits of his case.

  “Elizabeth, think about it. It will be impossible for you to assume your life as Mrs. Darcy and maintain your ties to those people! Your mother, your three younger sisters, and your father, I suspect, are ill-qualified to recommend themselves amongst my circle.

  “However, you will be expected to associate with the highest levels of Society and what better time to hone your skills than with Lady Catherine over the next week or so. Admittedly, she is at times meddling and condescending. But I assure you, she means you no harm.”

  Elizabeth had heard quite enough. She cleared her throat. “Mr. Darcy. I suppose you think you have bestowed on me some manner of compliment—although I fail to discern what it is.”

  “I love you—most ardently. I am offering you my hand in marriage.”

  Elizabeth’s heart, her lungs, her throat all constricted. She coloured. She stared. She said nothing.

  “Miss Elizabeth—”

  Any semblance of cordiality she had once suffered for this man had been extinguished by the manner of his declaration. “Mr. Darcy, in such cases as this, it is, I believe, the established mode to express a sense of obligation for the sentiments avowed; however unequally they may be returned.”

  “Are you rejecting me?”

&
nbsp; “I am, sir.”

  “This is not to be borne.”

  “Sir, there may have been a time when I would have expressed a sense of gratitude, but only for the briefest of moments. Truth be told, I once looked forward to meeting you. I thought surely the accounts from all who had the misfortune of making your acquaintance whilst in Hertfordshire were untrue. How could anyone who is revered as a landlord, a master, a friend, and a brother, engender such disdain from strangers? Even Mr. Wickham’s words, I refused to sway me completely.”

  “Wickham!”

  “Yes, he told me that the reports against your character had not been exaggerated. He further described your dear aunt’s manner as dictatorial and insolent—her temperament as haughty and scornful! What is more, he said you are just like her. His words have proved truer than I dared ever suppose. You are your aunt’s nephew in every possible way!”

  Elizabeth embarked upon a lengthy discourse, indicting Darcy for his many offences against Mr. Wickham and his ill-opinion of her family. Shaking his head, he looked at her with an expression of mingled incredulity and mortification.

  Elizabeth was not done taking him to task. All the conflicting emotions incited in her over the past weeks erupted to his detriment. “Your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain for the feelings of others are consistent with everything I had heard, long before I had the privilege of making your haughty acquaintance. As a consequence of your callous disregard for my own sensibilities when you professed your admiration, I have firmly sketched your character. I take great pleasure in telling you that you are the last man in the world I could ever be prevailed on to marry.”