by P. O. Dixon
“I would not find him nearly so intolerable if not for the fact that Mama is intent upon an alliance between him and Jane.”
Charlotte said, “There is no reason to suppose that Jane will not be just as happy with Mr. Collins as she would be with any other man. And he is the heir of Longbourn.”
“I want so much more for my sister. I am not unaware of the pressure one feels to honor the wishes of others when it comes to whom they should be married to. For years, it was the favorite wish of my grandfather – pardon, the late duke – that I was to be married to a man of his choosing. I know myself well enough to know that I would have been miserable had events unfolded as he had planned. Should Jane yield to Mama’s wishes, I know she would be miserable. Jane deserves better. Indeed we all do.”
“Mrs. Bennet is only doing what she must in promoting an alliance for her daughters. You ought to know this is not the first time she has exercised extraordinary measures to see her eldest daughter well matched.”
“Oh, pray tell.”
“Well, you know Mr. Darcy, no doubt, but do you also know his friend Mr. Charles Bingley?”
Elizabeth smiled in fond remembrance of the amiable young man. “Indeed, I do. I have met the gentleman on several occasions. In fact, Mr. Bingley was at Pemberley when Jane and I were reunited.”
Charlotte said, “By the time the gentleman took his leave of Hertfordshire, there was the general expectation that he and Jane were to be married. Indeed, Mrs. Bennet had even boasted aloud of its being a most advantageous alliance.”
“How awful for Jane,” Elizabeth cried. “What was my mama thinking?”
“Mrs. Bennet could not be entirely to blame for thinking as she did. It was generally evident, whenever Mr. Bingley and Jane met, that he admired her. And while those who know Jane best could surmise that she was in a fair way to being very much in love, one who did not understand her disposition so well would have been unlikely to discern her increasing regard.”
“Jane is shy and, from what I can tell, does not easily share her true feelings with anyone,” Elizabeth said in her sister’s defense.
“That is true. However, if a woman conceals her affection with the same skill from the object of it, she may lose the opportunity of fixing him. What a poor consolation it would then be to believe the world equally in the dark.”
“From what Jane told me of her history with the gentleman, she had known him only a fortnight before his leave-taking. Perhaps had the two of them enjoyed more time in company he would have better understood her character, and he would not have been so easily persuaded by others to abandon her, as I strongly suspect was the case.”
“Oh, Eliza, there are so few of us who have the heart to be really in love without proper encouragement. Mr. Bingley liked your sister. I contend that no amount of coercion from anyone would have persuaded him to leave if she had done more to help him on, which brings me back to my original contention about your mother’s current matchmaking scheme.”
“Are you suggesting that Jane should pretend to have feelings for Mr. Collins that she does not have merely for the sake of securing an alliance? What of love? What of my sister’s happiness?”
Charlotte was nothing if not practical. She said, “Jane’s disposition would scarcely allow her to do anything other than esteem her husband. Where there is esteem, there is respect, which can be a strong basis for love. The happiness in marriage that you speak of, I have always contended, is entirely a matter of chance.”
Chapter 9 ~ Misplaced Jealousy
Meanwhile, in Derbyshire, Lady Victoria knew that once her cousin was fully recovered from the carriage accident, he would make plans to return to Hertfordshire to be near that other woman. Even in his sleep, he called out that woman’s name, which vexed her ladyship exceedingly.
Along with his recovery came his adamant refusal to be given any more laudanum, citing his desire to be fully in command of all his faculties.
Having taken to opening his letters, her ladyship had come across one from his friend Charles Bingley telling Darcy of his plans to return to Hertfordshire and extending the invitation for Darcy to be his guest as soon as his health allowed for travel. She did not know how, but she knew she had to put a stop to this. After spending more than one night in his room, even if he had given no indication of having been aware of it, she was determined as ever that he was hers and she was his and that no one would come between them.
The idea of writing a letter and placing it in one that had arrived from the Duke of Dunsmore – a letter signed by Lady Elizabeth or whatever she was calling herself now that the truth was out – came to mind one morning. She knew in an instant how to act.
A horrified look graced Darcy’s countenance when Lady Victoria swept into the room after a light scratch at the door. His man had fully attended him moments earlier, so at least he was properly attired. Darcy said, “Pardon me, but I am sure your being in my room breaks every rule of proper decorum.”
She merely huffed, “Cousin, you speak as if you have something I have never seen before.”
Darcy said, “It has been a long time since you and I played as children, and you were more of a tomboy than a proper young woman.”
“If you insist.”
“What does that mean?”
“Do you not remember anything that happened during the past weeks? Who do you think it was attending you so diligently every day?”
A disturbing thought flashed through his mind—one he quickly dismissed. “I am exceedingly grateful that you were here with me over the past weeks, but that does not give you leave to be alone with me in my suite. Just imagine what your father would say.”
Darcy walked over to his dressing table and picked up his pocket watch. “I suppose you will be returning to Matlock soon, for I am ready to resume my travel to Hertfordshire.”
Lady Victoria bit her lower lip.
Darcy observed her through his mirror. Turning to look at her, he said, “I know that look. You are hiding something from me.”
“Pray you will forgive me, Cousin, but I took it upon myself to open some of your letters while you were indisposed. I even read some of them to you. Of course, you do not remember my doing so. A letter came from your friend Avery Montlake and inside he included a note from his sister.”
Darcy’s countenance changed abruptly. “Elizabeth? Did—did you read her note as well?”
“No! It is wholly inappropriate for a single woman to write a letter to a single gentleman to whom she is not engaged. I know you well enough to know that if you two were indeed engaged, then you would have told me. Thus, I could only suppose that whatever she wanted to say must be terribly personal; otherwise, why break with proper decorum?”
“You did say that the note was enclosed inside of Avery’s, did you not? Surely he would not be a party to anything as scandalous as you propose.”
Lady Victoria merely shrugged.
Darcy said, “Do not keep me in suspense. This letter that you speak of—where is it?”
“Do you mean the letter from the duke or the letter from his sister?”
Growing rather exasperated, Darcy said, “I am sure you know that I am referring to the letter from his sister.”
“Yes, of course. Here it is.” Retrieving the letter from her pocket, she walked over to where he stood and held it up.
Darcy outstretched his hand to accept the reluctantly proffered missive. “How long have you been carrying this around in your pocket?”
“I retrieved it from your study this morning when I learned you were awake and already making arrangements to travel to Hertfordshire. I do wish you would reconsider. You might suffer a relapse. You’ve only started to move around.”
“I shall continue to recuperate during the long journey. Now, may I request a moment of privacy?”
“As you wish. Please, do not take your leave of Pemberley without first saying goodbye to me—promise me that.”
Darcy looked at his cousin wit
h concern. “You know I would never leave without saying goodbye. Why would you even suggest it?”
“I suppose that the prospect of seeing Lady Elizabeth would make you completely forget a great many things.”
“Please do not start that again.”
“Please do not start what again?”
“The misplaced jealousy—what else? I may not recall much of what happened before my accident, but I do remember your not wanting me to travel to Hertfordshire.”
“I did not feel it was the proper time and that is all. However, do not let me delay you a moment longer. You must read what your lady love has to say. I shall await your presence in the breakfast parlor.”
Lady Victoria reluctantly quit the room. Symptoms of remorse began to creep across her face. Will he ever forgive me, should he find out what I have done? As was always the case when she thought about him too long, regret was soon replaced by yearning as the remembrance of what she had done sent her not in the direction of the grand marble staircase to await her cousin downstairs in the breakfast parlor, but straight to her apartment so that she might satisfy her secret desire. She entered the room, locked the door, and threw herself down on the bed. Doing what she must, she made short work finding such pleasures as she imagined only her cousin capable of bestowing.
Now lying there, thoughts of her last night in his bed stole into her mind once more. It had become a well-rehearsed routine: dismissing his valet, locking the door, and climbing into bed next to him.
She still did not know whether he actually called out her name that one time or whether she simply imagined it. She would just die should his desire for another woman prevent her from realizing her fondest wish to spend the rest of her days and nights with him. Victoria silently prayed that soon any notion of another woman would be banished from his thoughts forever. Soon she would be his wife, and nothing would ever separate them.
When Darcy read the letter, he thought the whole thing very odd. Indeed. It had nothing to do with the style of writing or the tone of the sentiments so precisely professed, but rather the distinct fragrance of rose petals that emanated from the parchment. Was it merely a consequence of her handing him the letter? Had she read the letter, or worse, had she penned it herself? Victoria, what have you done?
Darcy could not believe Elizabeth had written those words. He would not believe it. This had to be a mistake. By the time he arrived in the breakfast parlor, he was surprised to see his cousin there.
Lady Victoria said, “Cousin, whatever is the matter? You look as though you have received unpleasant news.”
Darcy took his place at the table and picked up the paper while the servant filled his cup with piping hot coffee. Once the servant was done, Darcy raised the cup to his lips and took a sip.
Lady Victoria said, “Did you not hear a word I said?”
“Indeed, I heard you.”
“Pray what does Lady Elizabeth have to say in her letter?”
“You handed it to me; I am sure you already know.”
“On the contrary, Cousin. As I said, I did not read your missive. Now, do not keep me in suspense.”
“The letter states her desire to have nothing at all to do with her past.”
“Does this mean that you have changed your plans—that you will not be traveling to Hertfordshire, after all?”
“That letter does not alter anything. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I am convinced that the letter was not written by Elizabeth at all.”
“Are you suggesting His Grace wrote the letter as a means of keeping you from seeing her? Or his mother, perhaps? You once said the late duke did not wish for an alliance between you and his granddaughter. Perhaps Avery and his mother mean to honor his wishes.”
Darcy looked at his cousin in silent inquisition. Do I even know you? “No, your ladyship, I am not saying that at all.”
“Then what are you saying?”
“I’m saying my plans have not changed. I shall travel to Hertfordshire.” Her ladyship did not even try to hide her disappointment. “I am sorry this does not meet with your approval, but what did you expect? Surely you must know that I am in love with her.”
Her ladyship stood. “And what if she is not in love with you?”
Darcy stood as well. “Then that would be my concern, would it not? I have instructed your maid to start preparing your things for your departure to Matlock. Your carriage awaits you.”
“Is this all the gratitude that I am to receive for being here by your side all these weeks—immediate banishment from your home?”
“On the contrary—you ought to consider this your recompense for attempting to deceive me.”
“Of what are you accusing me?”
“I am recovering from a carriage accident that left me badly battered and bruised, but I am not blind as I would have to be in order to fail to detect your own handwriting even when cleverly disguised.”
“You are in no state to travel. I am only looking out for your best interest.”
“You went too far!”
Lady Victoria started to cry, leaving Darcy unable to do anything other than comfort her.
“Why are you doing this? You have known for months how I feel about Elizabeth.”
Lady Victoria looked into his eyes and she placed her hands on his chest. “Do you not know how I feel about you?”
Darcy said, “You and I have always been close and while it is true that I love you, as I always will, I do not love you in the manner in which you obviously now wish. I do not know how to make myself any clearer, other than to refuse to see you again—to avoid you altogether,” he said, taking both her hands in his and removing them from his chest.
With both her hands in his in that way, he had a strange sense that they had shared intimacies that they ought not to have shared. He released her hands as though they burned like hot coals. “This time apart will do us both a world of good.”
“You’re angry at me and it breaks my heart. Please, if you must go away, then you must. However, let us not part in anger. No one is more important to me than you.”
“This is how it must be. I have written to your father and mother, thanking them for allowing you to be here and telling them to expect your imminent arrival at Matlock. Goodbye, Victoria.”
With that, Darcy quit the room, pretending he did not leave one very broken hearted cousin behind.
Darcy’s plans had called for his remaining at Pemberley long enough to see his cousin off. He was in his study with his steward discussing his plans for conducting business from Hertfordshire when a frantic footman rushed in and announced a fire was raging out of control. One of the tenant’s homes had burned to the ground and several others were threatened.
Darcy bolted from his seat. “Gather all the men from the household and the stables. We’ll need every able bodied man at Pemberley if we are to contain the damage.”
His steward held up his hand. “Sir, no doubt you want to aid in combating the fire, but you risk further injuring yourself. Perhaps you ought not—”
“—Nonsense, man! It is my solemn obligation to stand side by side with all the other men to combat this fire.” His concern for his tenants was brushed aside momentarily as his thoughts wandered to Hertfordshire and to the woman who was so far away.
Will I ever make it to Elizabeth’s side?
Chapter 10 ~ His Own Deficits
As the days went by, much of Elizabeth’s pleasure in the reunion with family was gradually replaced with shame on every occasion that found her sisters and her in public. More and more, she felt Mr. Darcy’s objections were justified and entirely reasonable. She recalled the exact words he had spoken when she pressed him to tell her about her Bennet relations.
“The fact is that I found the Bennets wholly lacking in terms of decorum and good taste. Mrs. Bennet is a woman of mean understanding, little information, and uncertain temper. Mr. Bennet comes across as being so odd a mixture of sarcastic humor, reserve, and caprice as to
render him wholly detached from the rest of his family, and the daughters are silly, wild, and uncouth.”
Finding herself in the position of agreeing with him felt rather treasonous, but the facts did not lie. Unlike Mr. Darcy, however, Elizabeth was in the ideal position to redress the rather bleak assessment.
Anything that gave her reason to think of Darcy also served as a reminder of how much she missed him. She had suffered many months apart from him over the course of their friendship, but none of those occasions had ever been accompanied by such loneliness and the aching uncertainty of whether she would ever see him again.
Thoughts of being in his arms, the soft brush of his lips against hers and along her neckline, could not help but intrude upon her quiet moments. When they did, she quickly pushed them aside. She had done the right thing in choosing a life with her Bennet family in Hertfordshire over a life with him in Derbyshire—in fact, she had done the only thing she could do.
Still, she missed him more and more each day and not knowing how he was faring after his near fatal carriage accident only made matters worse. Fortunately, there was the steadfast Mr. Wickham with whom she enjoyed spending time—someone from her former life whom she always found particularly diverting. So long as their discourse did not lend itself towards any disparagement of Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth enjoyed the lieutenant’s company exceedingly.
The militia being encamped just outside of Meryton afforded frequent opportunities for balls and other social gatherings. The fact that her younger sisters were out in society before Jane was even married became an even greater concern for Elizabeth. It would have been one thing if the younger girls were well-mannered and comported themselves with proper decorum. But far from it, for it seemed no matter where they went they were determined to make the Bennet family look ridiculous.
Why her father refused to do anything to rein in her younger sisters, Elizabeth could not discern, but she was not satisfied to leave it that way. Someone ought to speak with him and it might as well be me. Having received every advantage in life desired by mortal human, Elizabeth surmised it was not her place to look down on her family when her presence might very well be the means of lifting them all up. Thus resolved, she knocked on the door of the library and waited until her papa invited her inside.