Willow Hall Romance

by Leenie Brown

  Fisher’s eyes narrowed, and after waving with his hand to the barkeep for a refill of his drink, he pulled the papers out of a pocket inside his coat and placed them on the table in front of him. “Tell me why I should give these to you?”

  Harris’ eyes fell on the papers that stood between him and a potential noose or transportation and then lifted his gaze to Fisher with a raised brow.

  Fisher flipped the papers over so that Wickham’s seal could be seen.

  Satisfied that these were the papers he needed, Harris leaned forward and, after a glance around him, began sharing all that Miss Bingley had said about Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth, and then added all he knew of how Miss Lydia had come to Derbyshire.

  Fisher laughed. “Wickham did not mention being bamboozled by some pretty skirt.”

  “Do you blame him?” Harris replied with a smirk. “To meet her one would not think she could string two ideas together in a cohesive fashion…but she is a flirt.” His brows flicked upwards quickly. “And from what I hear, her skirts are not precisely heavy.” Although they had not been light enough to favour him with any of her attentions. He gritted his teeth — no she kept those for Wickham and his lot.

  “Aye, seems a family trait.” Fisher slid the papers across the table.

  Harris placed a hand on his freedom. “I expect Bingley will be in Miss Bennet’s company now that I am stepping away. He will not wait to take up his place next to her, and I imagine hearing her ill-spoken of will bring out an uncharacteristic burst of anger.” He stared hard into Fisher’s eyes. “He is not to know that the information you received came from me, or I will tell one and all about your connection to Wickham.”

  Fisher nodded. “He’ll only know of his sister being a source. I keep myself to myself.”

  “See that you do.” Harris took the papers and left. His part was done. Not that he would not add to a story about Miss Lydia should he hear one. He would gladly see her shunned as she had done to him in Brighton even if it meant hurting his cousin.

  Hopefully, Miss Bingley would have the opportunity to share such a tale about Miss Lydia with her friends at the house party she was to attend. He smiled. That would surely bring raised brows and whispers behind fans whenever Miss Lydia was introduced to finer society — and she would have to be introduced. Darcy was marrying her sister, and there were gatherings even in Derbyshire and Matlock to which his cousin, Marcus, and Lydia as Mrs. Dobney would be invited.

  Ah — there was one small pang of regret — Colonel Fitzwilliam was more a brother to Darcy than a cousin, and anything that grieved his cousin would necessarily bring sorrow to the colonel as well. Harris blew out a breath and patted the papers in his pocket. It could not be helped. He must keep his sweet Priscilla safe.

  ~*~*~

  “Was not Captain Harris with you?” Mrs. Abbot stood near the hedge that bordered the garden at Willow Hall to greet Jane and Elizabeth. Her sons played happily on the grass behind her, carefully watched over by Mrs. Gardiner and their nurse.

  “He had to leave early for another commitment,” Jane explained.

  Cecily’s head tipped to the side, and her lips pulled into a small smile. “You do not appear distressed by this development.”

  “I am not,” Jane said simply, schooling her features to only smile slightly and not broadly as she wished. However, her eyes shone with delight.

  Cecily’s brows rose, and she turned inquisitive eyes toward Elizabeth. “It was Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy who attended you home, was it not?”

  “Indeed, it was.” Elizabeth clamped her lips closed.

  “Oh,” Cecily’s eyes narrowed as she shook her head, “no, you are not going to hide this from me. I will know if Mr. Bingley has spoken about whether he still holds Jane in regard or not. There will be no tea and biscuits until I have heard the full tale.” She laced one arm through Elizabeth’s and the other through Jane’s. “Now, come sit with us and tell me all about your adventure at Pemberley, and you will not finish your tale until you have arrived back at Willow Hall. I must know all.”

  Madeline Gardiner chuckled. “There is no use trying to deny Cecily what she wishes. She may smile like you, Jane, but I assure you, she is as stubborn as Lizzy.” She winked at her sister, who huffed at her description. “And I find I am quite curious as well to know what has transpired to make our Jane’s countenance glow as it does.”

  Jane gasped and placed a hand on her cheek.

  Cecily laughed. “It is quite the thing to glow when one is happy.” She took a seat on the blanket which was spread out on the lawn.

  Jane took a seat next to her and pondered for a moment how to begin to share all that had happened. One thought kept coming to mind over and over as it had for the entire ride back to Willow Hall, and so, she decided to begin there. “He loves me and always has. He never stopped.” This confession, of course, drew exclamations of delight and a flurry of questions.

  Patiently and with more joy than she had felt in some time, Jane answered each one. No, she had never truly felt her heart engaged with regards to Captain Harris. He was a pleasant fellow, but he was not Mr. Bingley. Yes, the day had been pleasant, but she had found Captain Harris to be rather full of words and then when he had not shown proper sadness at the news of Mr. Bingley’s father’s death, well…it had been too much to bear. Her heart had ached so! She was ever so thankful to have been given the opportunity to retire to the music room. She had been shocked at the arrival of Miss Bingley and pleasantly surprised by Mr. Bingley’s harsh words to his sisters. Oh, goodness, yes! She was so thankful to not have had to speak with either Mrs. Hurst or Miss Bingley. She really was not certain how she could have countenanced a meeting with them after being treated so abominably. There was a pause here to consider what it would be like to have them both for sisters and then a determination that Miss Bingley must marry as soon as possible.

  It was the only solution, Elizabeth declared, to keep Jane from having a truly miserable life.

  “I am not certain it would be so bad as that!” cried Jane. “I am more forgiving than you, Lizzy. I can abide more foolishness than you can.”

  Elizabeth allowed this to be so. “Still, I think it would be hideous to have to house and feed her forever. She really must marry if anyone can be found to accept her.”

  “Oh, Elizabeth,” said Cecily with a laugh, “surely, she cannot be beyond finding a husband.”

  “You have never met her,” said Elizabeth. “She can be very unpleasant.”

  “True,” said Jane, “I had not thought so at first, but she did prove to be both unpleasant and untrustworthy.”

  “Perhaps there will be a man in need of a fortune at this house party,” commented Mrs. Gardiner.

  They all hoped that would be the case.

  “Are we to hear three sets of Bennet wedding bells, then?” asked Cecily.

  Jane could not help but smile at the question. “I hope,” she replied. “He has not asked, you see — though he would wish to and I would welcome the question — he has asked for a time to prove himself.”

  Cecily sighed, and Jane nodded her agreement. Having a gentleman declaring he must show himself worthy of you was just the sort of thing to make a lady swoon just a bit.

  This, of course, led to an explanation of Mr. Bingley not knowing that Jane was in town or that she had called. It was his sisters who were to blame. In fact, when Elizabeth mentioned Mr. Darcy’s part, Jane could not bring it upon herself to implicate him in any of her misery. He was acting, she said, with the best interest of his friend in mind. Truly, if she had listened to Charlotte and been less circumspect, neither Mr. Darcy nor Mr. Bingley would have doubted her attachment. The blame lay entirely at Miss Bingley’s and Mrs. Hurst’s feet. They were the ones that made Jane feel as if she were expected to be part of their family, and they were the ones that kept her visit to town a secret. No, there was no use in trying to dissuade her. They were, without a doubt, the injurious parties.

  “And
what of Captain Harris?” asked Mrs. Gardiner. “Has he made any overtures that he might make an offer? Have you led him to believe one might be welcomed?”

  For a moment, a cloud passed across Jane’s beautiful and bright horizon. It was never easy to let down a suitor. She had done so once before and had felt the sting of his displeasure for some time afterward. Yet, Captain Harris was not someone she would often see after he returned to Brighton. Perhaps she would see him on occasion if he should visit the Dobneys at the same time she did, but that would be at a time so far in the future that surely, he would have forgotten any disappointment she caused him. She had no reason to believe he valued her as anything more than a pretty conversationalist. He never spoke to her as if she were the only one present. Nor did he ever silently smiled at her with his eyes across a room when they were separated.

  “I shall be friendly, of course,” she said in reply to her aunt’s question. “But I shall not show him any particular attention, for Mr. Bingley shall have it all. He will not doubt my feelings again.”

  “And you will speak to Captain Harris if the need arises?” Mrs. Gardiner knew of Jane’s propensity to avoid unpleasant conversations.

  “I will.” Jane smiled. “The prize is worth the discomfort.”

  “Good girl.” Mrs. Gardiner patted Jane’s knee. “You do love Mr. Bingley, then?”

  Jane nodded. “Yes. Very much.”

  Chapter 8

  “I publish the Banns of Marriage between…”

  Bingley felt an unusual tingle of excitement skitter up his spine and across the skin on his arms as Philip began to read the first banns for Marcus to be followed by the final banns for Darcy. Soon, it would be his turn to have such a service rendered him. As soon as he could prove to Jane that he was worthy of her trust.

  “This is the first time of asking.” Philip paused and then began again. “I publish the Banns of Marriage between…”

  Bingley glanced across the church and catching Jane’s eye, smiled. The way she bowed her head and the colour that stained her cheeks were charming. How had he ever listened to Darcy and his sister? He lifted his shoulders in an imperceptible shrug. Listening to Darcy was perhaps understandable. Darcy was, after all, slightly older and therefore, supposedly, wiser. But listening to Caroline — if there was a character flaw amplified in this whole ordeal, that was it! He had been far too willing to listen to Caroline and Louisa. It was a trust that was sorrowfully misplaced but would not be again.

  “This is the third time of asking.” Philip once again paused.

  “Mr. Darcy is betrothed to another,” a voice called out from the back of the church.

  Bingley saw Darcy’s spine stiffen and the brilliant hues of anger creep up his neck.

  Philip’s eyes grew wide as he looked first at the well-dressed woman at the back of the church and then Darcy.

  Darcy rose and turned toward the woman who accused him. “Lady Catherine, have you come all this way to speak lies?”

  Every eye in the church was fixed on either Darcy or the woman Darcy had addressed as Lady Catherine.

  “I believe she is his aunt,” some woman whispered to the left of Bingley.

  “It is not a lie,” Lady Catherine countered. “Mr. Darcy is betrothed to my daughter.”

  “We are not betrothed,” countered Darcy with a look toward Philip. “It was merely a wish of my aunt’s. There are no papers signed. There has not even been an offer made or an overture of preference shown to my cousin on my part.” He turned back to Lady Catherine but looked past her to the ashen-faced girl trying to hide in the depths of the pew. “Cousin Anne, what have you to say?”

  “She is not well,” said Lady Catherine. “The trip was long and taxing, but when I heard the news that you were to be married.” She clucked her tongue. “That you would defy your own mother in such a way as to marry,” her eyes swept the church until they landed on Elizabeth, “her.” She glared at Elizabeth before returning her focus to Darcy. “I could not sit by and allow it.”

  “Is there a record of a betrothal?” Philip asked. “Is there documentation that I might see?”

  Lady Catherine raised a brow at Darcy and pulled a folded paper from her reticule. With a flourish of skirts, she marched up the aisle, handed the paper to Philip, and waited as he scanned its contents.

  “This is an agreement between yourself and your sister,” he said in a hushed voice.

  “But you can see, young man, that it is an agreement that my daughter and Darcy are to marry.”

  “This is merely a wish that it might happen,” Philip countered still in a hushed tone. “It is not legally binding.”

  “You are too young and appointed by him.” She attempted to snatch the paper away from him, but Philip held the document out of her reach.

  “Would you accept the opinion of one who is older than I and was appointed by Mr. Darcy’s father?”

  Lady Catherine shifted uneasily and after a moment’s consideration nodded.

  “Mrs. Dobney, if you would so kindly help Mr. Harker to the anteroom. Mr. Darcy, Lady Catherine, if you would join me. We shall have this sorted out in no time.”

  “Anne,” Lady Catherine called.

  The frail young lady in the last pew on the right-hand side of the church jumped, rose swiftly to her feet, and followed her mother to the small room on the side of the church.

  “Come with me,” Darcy said to Bingley. “And try to keep me from doing anything foolish that will land me in jail.”

  ~*~*~

  Bingley slid into the room and stood behind Darcy where he could poke him if necessary without being seen by the others. This was not the first time that he had stood behind his friend like this. But, at those moments, Darcy had not looked so displeased as he did now. There were degrees to Darcy’s foreboding look, varying from the leave me be, I could not be bothered with the likes of you to his current pistols at dawn expression. Bingley leaned forward and whispered near Darcy’s ear. “I’ll not be your second. Besides, I am certain you cannot call out a lady.”

  Despite the tense mood, Darcy let out a quiet laugh and shook his head. Bingley sighed in relief. Darcy was no longer looking murderous.

  “I do not see why we could not have done this out there,” grumbled Lady Catherine.

  “I am afraid that is my fault,” said Mr. Harker. “My eyes are not good, so Mr. Dobney will need to read the paper to me.”

  Lady Catherine huffed.

  “I assure you, my lady, that my mental faculties have not left me. It is just my eyes that are dim. I shall be able to judge wisely and fairly.”

  “You are agreed that Mr. Harker has the final word on the legitimacy of this protest?” Philip asked.

  Lady Catherine looked from Darcy to Mr. Harker and, finally, Mr. Dobney. “I feel I have no choice.”

  “We could call for the magistrate if you prefer,” said Darcy.

  Lady Catherine narrowed her eyes. “No doubt a friend of yours.”

  “There are not many who are not.” Darcy flinched and clamped his lips closed as Bingley poked him between the shoulder blades. Such comments would do nothing to help the situation. If anything, they would only serve to exacerbate Darcy’s aunt.

  “I will begin,” said Philip. “It is hereby declared on this third day of May in the year of our Lord 1792 that it is designed and intended that Fitzwilliam George Darcy will upon or before the twenty-first birthday of Annella Catherine De Bourgh join with her in marriage.” Philip folded the sheet. “It is signed by Lady Catherine and Lady Anne.”

  “I was seven, and Anne was not one!” Darcy’s shoulders twitched at the jab from behind.

  “Your age does not matter,” said Mr. Harker. “Let us not discuss that it was a contract formed by females but instead consider that Mr. Darcy has not signed it. Anyone could create such a document. I could write on a piece of paper that Miss De Bourgh is to marry Mr. Bingley here, and I could even have Miss De Bourgh sign the paper. However, it would not hold an
ounce of power if Mr. Bingley had not signed it. Mr. Darcy is not bound by the law to marry your daughter unless he wishes to marry her. Do you?” Mr. Harker turned toward Darcy.

  “No, I wish to marry Miss Elizabeth.”

  “And you, Miss De Bourgh, I cannot see your face very clearly, but I see you shifting,” he smiled kindly at her. “Do you wish to marry Mr. Darcy?”

  Anne turned frightened eyes toward her mother.

  Mr. Harker nodded. “As I thought. All will be well, Miss De Bourgh. I understand that you only wish to please your mother.”

  “But it was planned!” protested Lady Catherine. “Will you deny your mother her wish?” She turned her eyes toward Darcy.

  “Even if I believed my mother still held such a wish these twenty years later, I would deny it, for I will not marry a lady unless she has captured my heart. And Miss Elizabeth possesses it now and will for all time.”

  “Her mother is a tradesman’s daughter,” countered Lady Catherine. “It is unseemly.”

  “Her father is a gentleman just as I am and just as my father was,” retorted Darcy.

  “I will not stand for it,” said Lady Catherine.

  “You have no choice,” said Mr. Harker.

  Lady Catherine huffed in displeasure and lifted her chin just a touch higher. “I will not accept her.”

  “You do not need to accept her.” Darcy crossed his arms and glowered imperiously back at his aunt.

  Again, Lady Catherine huffed. “Mr. Collins was right about her. That woman is an adventuress. She would not have him and his living because she saw you and your fortune. She was the same with Mr. Wickham — pleasant and even a bit of a flirt, but what is he in comparison to your wealth. And her youngest sister is no different, I hear.”

  “Mr. Wickham?” Darcy snarled, and Bingley allowed him to do so without as much as a nudge as a reminder to Darcy to contain his anger. If Wickham were involved, he wished to hear how.

  “I did not see him, of course.” She raised her chin enough that she had to look down her nose at anyone to whom she was talking. “He is too far below me, but Mr. and Mrs. Collins were hospitable and saw to his needs. Mr. Collins is not too far above anyone in his behaviour.”