Would she ever know who he really was?
“I had forgotten how young you are,” he admitted.
She was surprised. “I have never sought to conceal it.”
“Yes, but you have the confidence of an older woman.” He flicked her cheek lightly.
“Really? How much older?” She gave him a look that dared him to say much more, and he laughed.
“I would say you have the wit and bearing of a young woman of four or five and twenty,” he said, smiling down on her, as he spread his hand against her cheek.
“Such a difference!” she said mockingly. “An entire four years! Am I aging so prematurely?”
“Not at all. Those years do little to change a woman’s outer appearance, but they do give her experience and a certain maturity. You, madam, are little more than a girl, but you conduct yourself as a self-assured woman.”
A dimple appeared in her cheek. “As your aunt once said to me, ‘You give your opinion very decidedly for one so young!’”
She gave a fairly good imitation of his aunt’s tone, though in her lighter voice, and he laughed again. He leaned closer to her, pausing to study her eyes, when Elizabeth spoke again. “Listen! Jane is coming!” She tilted her head to where her sister’s flute-like voice could be heard, floating over the hill in gentle warning.
“Your sister sings beautifully,” Darcy said after a moment, with surprise. “Why does she never sing in company?”
“Oh, Jane is far too modest. She does not care for display.” She laughed lightly. “My abilities are not half of hers; but, unlike her, I am not ashamed to show them off.”
She had stood, and was turning to ascend the slope, when his arm came quickly around her waist; in a moment she was entwined and held against him, and his deep voice, very low, whispered in her ear with steady cadence: “ ‘So smooth, sweet, so silvery is thy voice, as, could they hear, the Damned would make no noise, but listen to thee, walking in thy chamber, melting melodious words to lutes of amber.’ ”
A chill ran up and down Elizabeth. “Herrick,” she murmured breathlessly.
“Yes.”
“I think you seek to flatter me.”
“No.” Already he was letting her go, though, and stepped back just as Jane appeared above them.
“Are you ready to return?” she called.
“At once!” called Elizabeth back. She set off, Darcy behind her, only to feel him catch her hand and pull it back through his arm. He did not let her go again until they came through the door of Longbourn.
That night, in the privacy of his chamber, Darcy reverentially removed the folded packet from his inner pocket and spread its contents on the table in front of him. He fingered the handkerchief, tracing its embroidered letters, lifted it, and breathed its scent. Then he picked up the long, lustrous curl, turning it to admire its sheen, and ran it through his fingers. He wrapped it first around two fingers, then around his entire hand, and rubbed his face against it, sighing deeply. He was becoming a sentimental fool, he thought, but he remained like that for a long time, smelling her scent and feeling her silken hair against his skin.
Chapter Twelve
Elizabeth took a deep breath as she stepped outside. It was a bright, fresh, dewy morning, growing warm as summer advanced. Briskly she set out through the garden and down one of her favorite trails. She had been walking only about ten minutes when she heard a step not far away and Mr. Wickham emerged from the brush to her right. He stopped at the sight of her.
“Why, Miss Eliza!” he exclaimed.
“Mr. Wickham. What brings you out here this fine morning?”
“I am simply enjoying your beautiful Hertfordshire countryside. I shall miss it when we go to Brighton. The city has many amusements, but there truly is nothing like trees and fields to feed the spirit, do you not think?”
“Indeed I do.” Elizabeth could think of nothing else to say.
“I should have remembered that you also love to walk early in the morning. May I walk with you a little way?”
“I do not believe that would be wise, under the circumstances.”
“Of course,” he agreed immediately. “I would not wish to place you in an uncomfortable position.” He paused. “Would you answer one thing for me, though? Darcy—does he treat you well?”
“Very well,” answered Elizabeth, not knowing whether to be offended or touched.
“I am glad of that. He is capable of great generosity, I know, when he chooses. I hope he will always show you his best side.” He smiled. “I wish I could hear your opinion of Pemberley when you see it. It is a very beautiful estate—I think of it often and wish it were possible for me to visit. The living I was to have is at Kympton, not far away. Perhaps you will see it sometime. But I am keeping you.” He bowed. “Good day. May we meet again.”
Watching him walk away, Elizabeth frowned. Surely it had been indelicate of him to speak of such things to her now. She could not help but think that he was being deliberately provocative, but to what end?
She should not have been surprised, she reflected later, when she saw the carriage with the de Bourgh crest pull up in front of Longbourn. Yet she was.
“Who is it, Lizzy?” demanded her mother. “Did Mr. Darcy bring his carriage today?”
“No, madam. It is his aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh.” Indeed, as she spoke, the lady herself was being handed out by a footman. “I think I should greet her myself,” she declared hastily, moving toward the door. Mrs. Bennet had nothing to argue against receiving such an exalted a personage so, and Lizzy arrived in the hall just as the butler admitted her imposing form.
“Lady Catherine, what a surprise to see you here!” she exclaimed. “You honor us.”
“Indeed.” Lady Catherine regarded her with disfavor. “I would bid you good day, Miss Bennet, but until I have received satisfaction, I cannot.”
“Satisfaction, ma’am?” Irresistible images of being challenged to a duel by her ladyship ran through Elizabeth’s mind.
“Satisfaction,” she repeated awfully.
“Would you care to rest in our parlor? I am sure my mother would be honored to make your acquaintance.”
“I am not here to see your mother, Miss Bennet, nor your parlor either. I have made this most inconvenient journey to speak with you and none other.”
Elizabeth’s lips straightened out into a line. “Well, then perhaps you would care to step into the breakfast parlor. It is quite deserted. I would not wish to detain you any longer than necessary.” Lady Catherine inclined her head, and Elizabeth led the way, her temper already rising. She knew she should be civil to Darcy’s aunt but could not believe that gentleman would expect her to endure insult without protest.
The older woman had not even taken off her gloves until now, but when she had shut the door behind them, she stripped them off and tossed them unceremoniously onto the breakfast table along with the fur cape she always wore, no matter the weather. “You can be at no loss, Miss Bennet, to know the reason for my coming here.”
“I imagine,” said Elizabeth, folding her hands in front of her, “that you have come because of my engagement to Mr. Darcy.”
Lady Catherine gasped and staggered back, as if she had been struck. “It is true then? You maintain that it is true?”
“Certainly it is.”
“Impossible!” The woman began turning rather purple with shock and rage. “It is impossible!”
“Might I suggest, Lady Catherine, that you take your inquiries to your nephew? He is residing at a house only a few miles from here.”
“It is you who is responsible for this travesty! You have ensnared him with your insidious charms and allurements!”
“I beg your pardon, but I have done no such thing.”
“My nephew would never have lowered himself so if he had been in his right mind! Sense, honor, reason, decorum—everything argues against such an unequal match. Why, he has been engaged to my daughter for years! What do you say to that?”
> “Only that you make his character out to be very poor indeed.”
“My daughter has prior claims! He has been destined for her almost from the hour of his birth! How dare you interfere? How dare you come between them at the very moment when all our plans might have been fulfilled?”
“Lady Catherine, what is between your daughter and Mr. Darcy is certainly none of my concern. He made me an offer; I accepted it. I do not believe that he was ever bound to Miss de Bourgh, or he would certainly not have proposed to me. I wonder that you should not have sought him out rather than myself. What could you mean by it?”
“Insolent girl!” she cried. “Do you not know what disaster you are bringing on yourself—on him? Are you determined to ruin him? Your marriage will never be accepted by his family; you will never even be named among us! All of society will heap scorn on him because of you! Are the shades of Pemberley to be thus polluted?”
Elizabeth had gone pale. “These are arguments to be urged to Mr. Darcy, surely, not to me! If he is willing to bear such misfortunes, why should I not also be?”
“Have you no conscience, girl, no heart? Shall a proud man be brought low because of you?”
“I fail to see how Mr. Darcy’s marrying me will bring him low. If he is satisfied with me and my situation, what right have you to object? What do you hope to get from me, Lady Catherine?”
Lady Catherine stared at her calculatingly for a minute, and then, to Elizabeth’s astonishment, she dug into her reticule and produced a sheet of paper, halfway written over. “Very well,” she said coldly, “if I cannot prevail upon you to act out of conscience, then I will give you what I am sure you have desired all along. How much, Miss Bennet?”
Elizabeth gaped at her. “How much?”
“How much money to release my nephew? I have here a draft on my bank, which I will make out to you in the amount you specify. If he has, indeed, given you his word, he will never withdraw it, however bitterly he regrets it, so it is for you to set him free. How much money do you demand to take your talons out of him and release him?”
If she had been angry before, now she began to positively shake. “How dare you!” she whispered. “How dare you come into my house and insult me so? Do you really believe that having given my word I would break it—for payment? The offer of your money affects me as little as the threat of your displeasure.”
If possible, Lady Catherine appeared even angrier than before. “Have you lost your common sense as well as your conscience?” she demanded. “Have you no understanding? You may have enticed him for now, but he will come to hate you, do you understand? He will loathe the day he married you! Do you really believe a man such as he—a man of the first circles, reared to privilege and authority—could ever be made happy by you—an impudent, scheming, penniless coquette?”
“Enough!” sounded a male voice suddenly. Both women jumped and turned. Mr. Darcy stood on the threshold.
Darcy had been deeply alarmed when he had ridden to Longbourn only to find his aunt’s carriage waiting out front. Approaching it in some trepidation, he found his cousin ensconced inside with her companion. “Anne!” he exclaimed, forgetting his manners in surprise. “What is the meaning of this?”
Anne started and colored as much as her pale cheeks would allow. “My mother,” she murmured, not looking at him.
“Yes?” he asked grimly. “Where is your mother?”
“Inside.”
“Why did she not take you inside with her, and Mrs. Jenkinson? What is her purpose in coming here?” Only two days ago he had finally written his aunt to tell her of his engagement; she could not have both received the letter and made the journey in that time.
“Miss Bennet,” she said in a colorless voice.
“She came to see Miss Bennet? But . . . ,” he trailed off as he observed the expressions on both their faces. “She knows, doesn’t she?”
Anne nodded, not looking at him.
“How?”
“Mr. Collins.”
“Of course.” He shut his eyes. He had been a fool not to think of that—or not to anticipate her coming. Without further ado—with hardly even a civil good-bye—he hurried up the steps and rang the bell. When Dobbs opened the door, he demanded to know immediately where Lady Catherine was. That good man, who had never learned to be as expressionless as city butlers, pointed with an eloquent look towards the breakfast parlor, behind whose shut door they could hear voices. Darcy walked to it, hesitated, and opened it.
The sight that greeted him was of two livid women in a deadlock of wills. His aunt, by far the larger of the two, was not more commanding than his diminutive betrothed, who stood with cheeks flushed and eyes flashing in the most magnificent fashion, her entire body shouting defiance. He was in time to hear almost the entirety of Lady Catherine’s last biting harangue and went rather pale himself at it. “Enough!” he cried. The women started and looked at him wild-eyed.
Lady Catherine seemed to realize immediately that she had made a fatal error, but she refused to cower or retreat. Elizabeth could not at first tell what she felt—or whose defense he would come to. She was overwrought and trembling.
Darcy left little doubt of his allegiance though, crossing immediately to take her hand. “Will you leave us, please?” he asked softly. She nodded mutely, and he led her to the doorway, pressing her hand before letting it go and shutting the door behind her. Feeling suddenly weak, she walked to the stairs and sat down.
Inside the room, Darcy turned to his aunt. “I must ask you to never speak of Miss Bennet in those terms again, Aunt,” he said coldly. “She is soon to be my wife.”
“What?” she cried. “Are you as determined as she to pursue ruin? I thought you a man of sense, Darcy, but I see I have been sadly mistaken. How could you allow a girl like that to make you forget your obligation to your family—to Anne?”
“I have no obligation to Anne,” he said sharply.
“Of course you do! Why, she has been expecting your proposal any time these last five years!”
He appeared thunderstruck. “If so, then that is your doing, not mine! I have never given you any reason to suppose I would marry my cousin!”
“But what of your mother’s wishes? What of mine? It has been understood—you know it has been understood since you were infants!”
“Not by me, Aunt!”
“Nonsense! You were not so adverse until that woman came along. It is she who has done this—who has turned you against your own family!”
“Mind what you say, Lady Catherine!”
“I will say whatever I please, and you will listen, Darcy!” She softened her tone and approached him in a conciliatory fashion. “Do not think I do not understand, my son. I am not a simpleton. I know what kind of attractions a girl like Miss Bennet can hold for a man like you. I saw you watching her while you were both at Rosings—and I saw how she flirted with you, how she teased and enticed you. I do not blame you so much. Even good men can be led astray by unscrupulous women. But you must not allow a momentary weakness to ruin your life! It is not too late; I can help you escape this entanglement.”
“I have no wish to escape it. And you are mistaken. Miss Bennet never tried to entice me. I pursued her.”
“She is nothing, Darcy! She is not even of your sphere!”
“She is a gentleman’s daughter.”
“True, but who is her mother? What is her family? Do not imagine me ignorant of their condition. They are far beneath you! You would unite your great name with theirs—the nephew of an earl with the niece of an insignificant tradesman?”
The very fact that her opinion coincided so closely with his own only made him angrier. “You have no right to interfere in my affairs! I am my own master, and I may marry whomever I choose. You especially had no right to come here, persecuting and insulting my betrothed so! What was your purpose? Did you hope to persuade her to abandon me?”
“I had every right to act in defense of your interests since you will not do so!
I am almost your nearest relation and entitled to know all your dearest concerns! Should I have stood by and done nothing while you allow yourself to be entrapped by a pretentious upstart with nothing to recommend her but her feminine wiles?”
“You have said quite enough, Aunt. I will not stand here and listen to you abuse the woman I love. Your journey here was ill considered, unwarranted, and ultimately unsuccessful. As my cousin is waiting for you in the carriage, I suggest you join her immediately.”
“Foolish boy! Do not think you can defy me so easily! Your uncle will hear of this before the day is out!”
“My uncle has already removed to the country for the summer, so I doubt that will be possible. In any case, I have written to him myself.”
“You are promised to Anne!” she almost shrieked. “You have always been promised to Anne! Have you no consideration for her feelings—for her position?”
Darcy did have a measure of real compassion for his oppressed and sickly cousin, but he was far too angry to feel it now. “Whatever the discomforts of it may be, they are none of my making! I have never made any promise to you or Anne and in fact have done everything in my power to discourage any such expectations. It is your fault you have continued to believe this fantasy. As for me, I have every right in the world to choose a wife of my liking, and your unjustifiable attempt to separate us will not affect my resolution in the slightest.”
She glared at him. “You should be glad that your mother is dead rather than suffering the disappointment of seeing you waste your life and disgrace your family in this way.”
It was a full minute before Darcy could trust himself enough to speak. His aunt used the time to don her gloves and fur, looking the picture of affronted dignity the entire time. “You should be glad, madam,” he said at last in a thin voice, “that the respect I have for my mother’s memory prevents me from treating you in a way that would little befit your age or rank.”
Unequal Affections: A Pride and Prejudice Retelling Page 18