Miss de Bourgh pressed the pages on Elizabeth, forcing her to take them or allow them to scatter to the wind. “You are correct in part. The beginning of the letter, you will not care for. The remainder, though, that you will want to read.” She readjusted the reins, now that Elizabeth clutched the letter, and flicked them to increase their pace. “Incidentally, I can confirm Darcy’s statements about the living Mr. Wickham was supposed to receive. The truth was well known by the man who actually received the living and by the people in the parish.”
Elizabeth looked down at the pages, realizing she’d been snared by the mention of Mr. Wickham. She now wished to know what was contained in the letter. Besides, unlike the others who’d read it, she wouldn’t be violating Mr. Darcy’s trust. She was the intended recipient. Smoothing out the pages on her lap, Elizabeth began to read.
She soon realized Miss de Bourgh was not wrong in saying she wouldn’t care for the beginning of the letter. In truth, it angered her. Mr. Darcy condemned Elizabeth’s family. He went on to say that his objection to her family’s behavior was one of the reasons he’d done his best to separate Elizabeth’s sister Jane from the man she loved, Mr. Bingley. Mr. Darcy also stated that he did not think Jane loved Mr. Bingley at all. As if he, of all people, would possess the ability to understand Jane. Elizabeth was incensed by how much Mr. Darcy seemed to think of himself, and how much he took on.
She nearly stopped reading there. The gall of the man. To propose to her in so insulting a way, and then return to his room to write a letter adding further insult and maligning Jane. It was intolerable.
Still, she hadn’t reached the part, alluded to by Miss de Bourgh, which pertained to Mr. Wickham. Steeling herself, Elizabeth read on. She’d begun the letter. She may as well witness the extent of his venom. Perhaps it would ease him to learn she had. Certainly, it was going a long way to salve her guilt over her harsh words.
The rest of the letter did not assuage her guilt, however, instead serving to increase it. She read of how Mr. Wickham had accepted three thousand pounds in lieu of the living he was willed. Worse, his tone honest and calm, Mr. Darcy described how Mr. Wickham had attempted to elope with Miss Darcy. Miss Darcy, a girl of only fifteen, had initially agreed to the elopement. Fortunately, when chance brought Mr. Darcy to visit her, she’d changed her mind and Mr. Wickham was sent on his way.
Elizabeth read the letter three times. Each time, the first part went by more fleetingly, having lost its sting. Though it pained her to acknowledge it, a modicum of her outrage was giving way to the nagging knowledge that at least some of his claims against her family held hints of validity.
The remainder of the letter, in opposite effect, grew in proportion. It became more clear with each reading how horribly she’d misjudged both Mr. Wickham and Mr. Darcy. Possessed of the truth, she could clearly see the holes in Mr. Wickham’s tales, the gross inconsistencies in both word and behavior. She shook her head at how cleverly he’d misled her, while needing hardly to lie. Were she being frank with herself, Elizabeth could admit her gullibility and behavior concerning Mr. Wickham quite embarrassed her. Where had her mind and manners been?
Finally, Elizabeth folded the letter, tucking it away. She lifted her gaze to study the tree-lined track, her thoughts more turbulent even than when she’d woken that morning. Blinking several times, she looked about, realizing they were somewhere she’d never been before. She glanced back, wondering how far they’d come. Certainly, it would be a long walk back to the parsonage. She’d been so engrossed in Mr. Darcy’s letter, she wasn’t even sure if they’d taken any turns. “You said I must read the letter first, meaning you didn’t ask me to ride with you for that alone.”
“No, I didn’t.” Miss de Bourgh’s words were quiet.
“I assume if I don’t wish to walk a long distance back, I must listen to what you have to say.” Elizabeth supposed it was only reasonable that Lady Catherine’s daughter would have inherited some of her autocratic ways.
“I would not be so unreasonable, or, to be honest, so forceful.” Miss de Bourgh’s tone was almost wistful, as if she wished she could live up to Elizabeth’s accusation. “Do you not want to hear more?”
“You have piqued my interest,” Elizabeth responded, for it would be a lie to say she wasn’t intrigued. If not to warn her off Darcy or to give her the letter, what was wanted of her?
Miss de Bourgh drew in a long breath, as if to steady herself. “I do not wish to marry Darcy, nor he me. We’ve made my mother’s promise to his mother into a waiting game, always putting the matter off. Unfortunately, Darcy’s proposal to you seems to have pressed the issue. After her argument with Darcy this morning, my mother came to me and told me that if Darcy and I refused to marry within a month, she will publicize Georgiana Darcy’s near elopement. She was quite gleeful, sure she’d struck on a tactic which would succeed.”
Elizabeth stared at Miss de Bourgh in surprise. What sort of women would defame her own niece to force a marriage between unwilling parties?
“You do not know Georgiana, but I do. She is devastatingly shy. She will neither be able to deny the accusation nor carry off an attitude that will make it unimportant.”
Elizabeth nodded. A shy young woman would likely possess the exact attitude to make the claims into something much worse than they were. It would affect her ability to find a decent man to marry, and may even entice indecent ones to pay her unwanted attention. In short, the rumor, especially perpetuated by the girl’s own aunt, could quite conceivably ruin the rest of Miss Darcy’s life.
“What Georgiana did is nothing, by the way.” Miss de Bourgh cast Elizabeth a challenging look, as if daring her to refute that. “But with Georgiana’s bashfulness and Darcy being so straight laced, they don’t see that. Because of her shyness, when she is brought out she will have a terrible enough time as it is, without her error in judgement being public. The scandal would make it much worse.” Her expression grew thoughtful. “Georgiana will eventually grow out of it, I believe. I was just as shy until I was in my twenties. Darcy is still a bit shy, but he’s greatly improved from how he was.”
Miss de Bourgh’s claim that Miss Darcy was shy seemed to go against Mr. Wickham’s portrayal of her, but could anything Mr. Wickham said be believed? The idea that Mr. Darcy was shy seemed even more foreign. Elizabeth had never considered that. Could that be part of why he was reluctant to dance with anyone not in his own party? Could some of his condescension simply be a cover for what he would likely consider the greater failing?
“You can see my predicament,” Miss de Bourgh said. “Much as I love Georgiana, I am not going to marry Darcy.”
“Why not?” Elizabeth asked, truly curious. Mr. Darcy had excellent lineage. Even Elizabeth had to admit he was uncommonly handsome of face and possessed a tall, powerful physique. Not to mention, though she supposed Miss de Bourgh didn’t need money, Mr. Darcy was reputed to be exceedingly wealthy. She couldn’t imagine Miss de Bourgh as the type to hold out for love. Not when so many found it much more practical not to. Truly, there was no reason any woman in England would refuse Mr. Darcy. Well, no woman other than Elizabeth. “Has he wronged you? Unfairly maligned you or those you care for?”
Miss de Bourgh raised her eyebrows. “Of course not. Darcy is unflaggingly fair, honest and well mannered.”
Elizabeth detected a trace of reproach in the other woman’s tone, but refused to be baited. “Then why do you not wish to marry him?”
“For one thing, he does not wish to marry me. I find that to be a poor basis for a union.”
“For another?”
“I don’t want to leave Rosings. Darcy will never leave Pemberley. We can’t live in both places.”
“Rosings is beautiful,” Elizabeth said, although she meant the grounds, not the house. “You are certain you can’t persuade him to live here?” She held her breath, waiting for Miss de Bourgh to answer. Somehow, it felt wrong to Elizabeth to encourage another woman to seek Mr. Darcy’s hand mere h
ours after he’d proposed to her, even though she’d refused him.
Miss de Bourgh shook her head, freeing Elizabeth to breathe. “To Darcy, nothing can compare to Pemberley.” She slowed the horses to a walk again, looking about. “I managed to get a message to him warning him of my mother’s threat and asking him to meet me. He doesn’t know what I’m planning, just that I have a plan.”
“Meet you?”
“Yes.” Miss de Bourgh shot her an amused look. “We’re nearly there.”
They were on their way to meet Mr. Darcy? Elizabeth felt something near panic stir in her. She wasn’t ready to face him. Not with all that had passed between them yesterday, and in his letter. Perhaps it wasn’t that long of a walk back after all. She looked up, tracking the position of the sun. How long had they been driving? “I don’t know what you’re planning, or why it must include me. I don’t know that I care to be a part of any of this.”
“I will explain my plan to both of you together. I only wish to go through it once.”
Elizabeth took in the pleading note in Miss de Bourgh’s voice and wondered if the meek woman worried she only had the fortitude to argue her scheme once.
“Neither of you will initially care for my idea, but I ask you to hear me out,” Miss de Bourgh continued.
Elizabeth swallowed, trying to settle her nerves. Should she jump from the phaeton? Miss de Bourgh wasn’t driving that quickly now, but jumping from a moving vehicle to avoid seeing Mr. Darcy seemed overly dramatic. How terrible could it truly be? His anger had obviously cooled by the time he’d finished the letter, and likely remained cooled, so she would not be facing that.
Elizabeth clasped her hands tightly before her, realizing it wasn’t him she dreaded so much as confronting her own guilt and embarrassment. She’d behaved wretchedly toward him, and discovered an alarming lack of good judgement in herself regarding Mr. Wickham. She was, in fact, quite mortified.
Still, she reminded herself, there were scores on which she knew she was in the right. Mr. Darcy had belittled and insulted both her and her family. Even if some of what he’d said had merit, it was still rude of him to say it. Worse by far, Jane had loved Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy had no right to interfere in that. Holding these thoughts firm, Elizabeth raised her chin as they turned off onto an unused looking track. She was, she assured herself, quite ready to face Mr. Darcy.
Chapter Two
The overgrown roadway Elizabeth and Miss de Bourgh traveled down curved through the trees. In less time than Elizabeth expected, it spilled them out into a sun-dappled clearing. Mr. Darcy stood with his back to them, presenting broad shoulders encased in an impeccably tailored coat. He was letting his horse, a fine looking roan, graze nearby.
As Miss de Bourgh’s phaeton drew to a halt, Mr. Darcy turned. His eyes registered surprise when they alighted on Elizabeth. She could feel her cheeks heat.
“What is Miss Bennet doing here?” Darcy asked his cousin, his tones clipped.
Affronted, Elizabeth hopped down from the phaeton. Her short jump must have reminded him of his manners, as she’d intended, for he hurried forward to help Miss de Bourgh down. Elizabeth smoothed her skirt, tipped up her chin again, and marched around the phaeton to join them.
If anyone should feel uncomfortable, she reminded herself, it should be Mr. Darcy. He was the one who’d spoken so boorishly yesterday, and with such arrogance. To assure herself she was more in the right, Elizabeth resolved to clear her conscience of her transgressions of misjudgment immediately. “Mr. Darcy,” she greeted.
“Miss Bennet.” His acknowledgement was devoid of emotion. He nodded to his cousin. “Anne.”
Elizabeth took another step forward, recapturing his attention. “Mr. Darcy, as I find us together and am apparently able to speak freely on this before Miss de Bourgh, please permit me to apologize for misjudging you, and for being taken in by Mr. Wickham, which must have been . . .” She trailed off, suddenly realizing how upsetting that must have been for Mr. Darcy. He’d loved her, and watched her fall for the charms of a man he knew to be dishonorable, just as his sister had. “It must have been unpleasant for you to endure,” she concluded in a softer tone.
He stared at her for a long moment, his expression closed. “It was.” Again, he turned to his cousin. “What have you been telling Miss Bennet?”
“I? Nothing. You have told her many things, however, in your letter.”
“My letter? The one your mother took and you burned?”
Miss de Bourgh gave a slight shake of her head. “I did not burn it, Darcy. I kept it. I gave it to Miss Bennet, as you must have intended.”
“I see,” Mr. Darcy said, at his most stern. “And what, then, is Miss Bennet doing here? Your note said you have a way to spare Georgiana.”
Elizabeth cast a glance at Miss de Bourgh but she, who cowed so easily before her mother, seemed unconcerned in the face of Mr. Darcy’s ire. “And so I do.”
“Well, we are both here now, as you obviously wanted.” Mr. Darcy folded his arms across his chest. “What is your plan?”
“The two of you must become engaged.”
“No,” Elizabeth blurted at the same time as Mr. Darcy said, “What?”
“It’s plausible.” Miss de Bourgh held up her hands beseechingly. “My mother thinks the letter was destroyed, but there is no reason the two of you couldn’t still have met. You would have found it in you to speak what you’d written, Darcy.”
“It is not the plausibility of us exchanging words that I refute,” Elizabeth said, aghast at Miss de Bourgh’s proposition. “It is the notion that Mr. Darcy’s words, whether written or spoken, could make me acquiesce to what I have already refused, when neither my mind or heart have changed.”
Miss de Bourgh leveled pleading eyes on her. “I read Darcy’s letter. With all of your objections to the marriage explained, it is reasonable you would change your mind.”
“Not all of her objections,” Mr. Darcy said.
Elizabeth looked down, pursing her lips. Miss de Bourgh clearly didn’t know everything that had passed between them. What hadn’t been addressed in the letter was Elizabeth’s criticism of Darcy’s manners and her declaration that he was the last man in the world she would marry. She realized she may owe him another apology still, for the vehemence of her rejection. Perhaps she could have mustered greater restraint, though he’d sorely tried her, to be sure.
“All of the objections mentioned in the letter were addressed,” Miss de Bourgh said. “My mother knows of no others, nor will she be able to imagine any. She was already amazed you refused, Miss Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth shook her head. She had to end this ridiculous scheme. “How can you ask me to pretend to be engaged? My family would expect the marriage to take place in a month or so. What would--”
“Yes, they will want you to wed soon,” Miss de Bourgh cut in before Elizabeth could finish. “But you can delay the wedding for two months. That’s all I require.”
“Your birthday?” Mr. Darcy asked.
“Yes. I’ll be twenty-five.” Miss de Bourgh’s wide eyes pleaded with Elizabeth. “My father’s will left Rosings to me, but I have no control over it until I’m twenty-five.”
Elizabeth frowned. She didn’t consider herself slow witted, but she didn’t understand how Miss de Bourgh inheriting Rosings would end the threat Lady Catherine had issued. “How does you inheriting Rosings help Miss Darcy and ensure you needn’t marry Mr. Darcy?”
“My mother loves Rosings. I will threaten to cast her out if she doesn’t give up on my wedding Darcy and leave Georgiana be.”
“Your own mother?” Elizabeth didn’t know what to think of these people. As dreadful as Lady Catherine was, she was still Miss de Bourgh’s mother. Elizabeth found many faults in her own mother, but she would never pitch her out. She sought Mr. Darcy’s reaction, but his face revealed little. “You would cast Lady Catherine from her home?” she asked Miss de Bourgh.
“She wouldn’t be without recourse.”
Miss de Bourgh’s tone was painfully beseeching. “My mother has her jointure. She’s been living very comfortably at Rosings without spending much of it. She also owns a small estate that neighbors Rosings. No one lives there but the caretaker and a few servants, so she could easily take up residence. When I have control of Rosings, I can threaten not to allow her to live there anymore. She wouldn’t be desolate but she would have to pay for her household expenses. Now, she only pays for her maid out of her own money. Mother dislikes spending her own money, and would hate to live anywhere other than Rosings. With the consequence of expulsion hanging over her, she will give up her threats.”
“Why not make the threat now?” Elizabeth asked. “Tell her what you will do in two months so there’s no reason to put her off?” And leave me out of your schemes, she added silently.
Miss de Bourgh looked at Darcy. She lifted her hands in an imploring gesture, as if she’d already spent her reserve for argument.
“Because Lady Catherine will presume, given two months, she can persuade Anne to do as she wants,” Mr. Darcy said, his expression thoughtful.
“Surely you can convince her you are set in your course of action.” Elizabeth pressed, even though she wasn’t sure herself that Miss de Bourgh could do so. She’d watched the two. Lady Catherine dictated and Miss de Bourgh obeyed.
“She’s always bent me to her will in the past,” Miss de Bourgh said, wringing her hands. “Shortly before I was to come out, when I was seventeen, I fell ill. I had a fever, my throat was raw, and I was subjected to terrible swelling and sensitivity. After a few weeks, the symptoms disappeared, but I was weak and tired. It took me almost two years to recover my strength. I missed the season when I was seventeen and the following year as well.”
Courting Elizabeth: A Pride and Prejudice Variation Page 2