Trapped at Rosings

by Emily Russell

  “What is the matter?” she asked. “I can see you are distressed and I cannot think what is causing it.”

  Darcy swallowed. “It does not matter,” he said in a softer tone. “Come, we shall return to Longbourn, and I will return to Netherfield. We shall talk more another time. I was mistaken to think — ah, it does not matter now. All that matters is what is to be done.”

  He made to move once again, but Elizabeth stood in front of him. She folded her arms and fixed him with a steady look.

  “No, this will not do,” she said. “You cannot make such cryptic remarks and run away without explaining yourself. I insist you tell me what you are thinking because your behaviour is making no sense. This behaviour will not serve once we are married.”

  “Once we are married…“

  Darcy turned away from Elizabeth and paced a few steps. He removed his hat and pushed his hair back from his forehead. An old tree lay on its side at the edge of the path, and he sat heavily on it, staring at the loamy woodland floor. Elizabeth stared at him in utter bewilderment, but she was satisfied to wait for him to speak now he no longer spoke nonsense of making mistakes and returning to Netherfield.

  After some moments of agonising silence, punctured only by the chirping of birds enjoying the first few days of summer, Darcy looked up at her. His expression was stern, and his whole demeanour resigned as if readying himself for a blow.

  “Miss Bennet,” he said, and Elizabeth flinched at the formal address. “Do you wish to be released from our engagement?”

  Elizabeth could only stare at him, her mouth open.

  “Released from our engagement? I… I do not understand why you are asking me this. Do you wish to be released from our engagement?”

  “I asked you first,” said Darcy with a ghost of a smile.

  Elizabeth wrapped her arm around her. Though the sun was shining, she felt cold. A worm of dread coiled in her stomach.

  “No, I do not,” she forced herself to say as she fought to hide her terror. “But if you do — do you?”

  Darcy took a deep breath. “Are you sure? There is not another whom you might prefer? If there is, say the word and I shall release you. I cannot agree that you are making a wise choice about the man in question, but I will not force you to be bound to a man when you love another, whoever that choice is.”

  “Another…” Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “Are you referring to Wickham?”

  A muscle twitched in Darcy’s jaw, but he continued to regard her gravely.

  Elizabeth shook her head. She had never expected their walk to take such a turn. “I have never loved Wickham,” she said. It was true. Her feelings had never been stronger than an infatuation which had long since faded away to nothing. Even her feelings of regard for him had lessened when his recent behaviour towards her gave her pause. Something about him was not right.

  Darcy released a breath. “You do not love him. You are certain?”

  “Do you suppose me not to know my own feelings? Do you suppose me as great a blockhead as that?” she said, mimicking his earlier response to her.

  Instead of making him smile as she intended, Darcy heaved a great sigh and leaned forward to bury his face in his hands. Was he crying? Elizabeth had never seen a man cry before apart from her father once when their old dog died and even then, he had done his best to hide it. Elizabeth had no idea what to do. She hurried to sit beside him.

  “What is the matter?” she asked. She tentatively touched his back. “Come, you must tell me what you are thinking because I cannot make it out.”

  Darcy raised his head. He was not crying, but there was a certain redness about his eyes.

  “Forgive me. I had feared — I thought— “

  “You thought I loved Wickham and wished to marry him.”

  Darcy nodded. “I cannot tell you what it means to hear you say my fear has been for nothing.”

  Elizabeth hesitated. “I must be completely honest with you. There was a time I cared for Wickham and liked him very much.”

  Darcy turned to look at her, but she could not tell what was going through his mind. “And I must confess,” she added with some difficulty. “That your treatment of him was a large part of my reason for disliking you. When he told me you had deprived him of his living…”

  “Is that what he told you?” Darcy’s eyes flashed. “He always was a liar. My father intended a church living for him, but when the time came to take it, Wickham told me he did not want it. I compensated him instead, and he squandered the money as he does all money that falls into his hands.”

  Elizabeth was stunned. “I cannot believe this. How could he lie about such a topic?”

  “To avenge himself on me. He wrote letters begging for more money, but I refused.” Darcy paused. He rubbed his jaw and looked so troubled, Elizabeth longed to hold him and comfort him as he had once done for her. “Our paths crossed again last summer in the most painful manner,” he continued. “It was only a few weeks before I came to Hertfordshire. My sister was staying at Ramsgate with her companion, a Mrs Younge. She told Wickham they stayed there and Wickham travelled down to meet them. He persuaded Georgiana he was in love with her and she with him and convinced her to consent to an elopement. Fortunately, I travelled down to join Georgiana the day before they were to run away. She could not bring herself to lie to me and told me everything. It broke her heart when she realised how he had used her. His aim was her fortune and the pleasure of knowing how much it would hurt me to see my sister married to such a man. No doubt he would have gained great pleasure from forbidding her to see me, and he would have made her life a misery.”

  “He is truly wicked, then,” said Elizabeth. “I never thought he was as bad as all that. There were things about him that gave me pause, but I thought it might have been my imagination. Now, I think my suspicions are correct, and you have just told me of a possible motive.”

  Darcy looked at her in concern. “He has not injured you?”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “No, but — when I told you I had something to say to you about Wickham earlier, it was because some of his recent behaviours were troubling me and I wished to know your opinion. It has lately dawned on me that perhaps your past together was not quite what he made it out to be and perhaps you had reason to dislike him. I wanted to confide in you.”

  Her words made Darcy smile. To think of Elizabeth trusting him enough to make him her confidant made his heart lift and chased away the last remaining effects of his earlier gloom.

  “Has he imposed on you?” he asked, his smile fading.

  Elizabeth took a deep breath. “No. That is, I do not know. He behaves oddly, and I could not think what he was about. He has not directly imposed on me, yet I feel like he has.”

  “That is Wickham. He is an excellent manipulator. He can do something so subtly that it leaves the person in doubt whether he did it at all and with the feeling they cannot speak of it without seeming as if they are complaining of nothing.”

  “That is just it.”

  Elizabeth told Darcy of his odd behaviour towards her and the things he said. “I suspect he is trying to make me regret my engagement.”

  “I would bet my horse this estate in Wiltshire is no more real than fairies,” said Darcy.

  “I suspected the same, but I felt ungenerous for doubting him with no evidence. He starts sentences then trails off as if to arouse my curiosity. And just this morning, he seemed most fixated on the royal marriage. It seemed as if he wished to draw parallels between their marriage and the failure of it, and ours.”

  “Did he indeed!”

  “I changed the subject to speak of the princess, and as I suspected he would, he did all he could to bring it back around again. He would not allow it to drop until I insisted. I think he overestimates my regard for him. Most of the women here have been head over ears for him, and he probably assumes I feel likewise. If he hates you, he might hope to win my regard for himself to have the satisfaction of believing your wife is
in love with him and not you.”

  “Or perhaps he hoped to end our engagement entirely,” said Darcy thoughtfully. “It seems he might if he is leading you to believe he has an estate to offer you.” He frowned as another memory came to him. “It is most peculiar, is it not, that Miss Bingley came to Longbourn this morning?”

  “I thought she came with you?”

  “No, she set out before me and was there when I arrived. She insisted on helping me search for you.”

  “You do not think she and Wickham…?”

  “I do not know,” Darcy admitted.

  “They did spend a lot of time together at the ball. They walked out into the garden together at one point.”

  “Did they indeed?” Darcy raised an eyebrow. “I had not noticed. My mind was more agreeably engaged.” He looked down at Elizabeth, and she flushed. Was she imagining it or had they somehow moved closer during their conversation? “Did Wickham try any of his strange tricks on you last night while I danced with Mary?”

  “No.” Elizabeth looked surprised. “I did not speak to him at all last night. I was occupied with you.”

  A grim smile spread over Darcy’s face.

  “So, that is what she is about,” he said. “She told me this morning, that you spoke for a long time and even went outside with him at one point. She was most eager to impress me with the friendliness of your encounter.”

  “An encounter that did not happen,” said Elizabeth angrily. She paused as a thought struck her. “Is that the real reason you were late this morning?”

  Darcy nodded. “I am afraid so. I was jealous. I know you had regard for Wickham and I feared you were in love with him. I could not endure being married to a woman in love with any other man, never mind him. It is painful enough to be marrying a woman who does not love me.”

  Elizabeth hesitated. Her eyes cast down, and her face glowed. She seemed at a loss for words. Darcy did not take his eyes from her.

  “It delights me that we are being so honest with one another,” he said. “I feel closer to you now more than I have at any other time since we have known one another. And if I may continue with my honesty, I would like to tell you something though I am not sure how you will receive it. Please be assured I put no pressure on you and make no demands of you when I say it.”

  “Yes?” Elizabeth’s throat was so tight she could hardly breathe enough to speak, and the word came out as a whisper.

  Darcy turned, so he faced her.

  “Elizabeth, I need to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”

  Elizabeth looked so startled, he rushed to continue before she could interrupt.

  “I have loved you since last winter, and I loved you when I saw you again at Rosings. In fact, when we encountered one another in the woods, it was because I had gone there hoping to meet you. I was going to ask you to marry me.”

  Elizabeth was almost too astonished to speak, but she forced herself, anyway.

  “You loved me? You wished to marry me?”

  Darcy nodded. “I could not mention it afterwards after the ordeal you had been through.”

  “But you had lots of time to say it since then.”

  “I did. But I am afraid I was a coward. When it became clear we must wed, you told me you disliked me as much as you mistakenly believed I disliked you. I could not bring myself to say the words knowing I could only earn your distaste in return. I was wretched at the thought. But as we grew closer, I hoped you might love me in return. That one day, you might feel for me as I do for you.” He looked at her. “I still hope that. I do not say this to place an imposition on you. But I wanted you to know how I feel about you.”

  “All this time — all this time I thought you married me because you felt like you must. I was afraid to allow myself to feel…”

  Darcy’s breath hitched. He gazed her. “Yes?”

  “I feared you thought it a punishment to marry me,” Elizabeth admitted. “And as I grew to know you better, I feared it more. I did not like the idea of marrying a man who was kinder and more generous than I gave him credit for but who only married me out of that kindness and generosity and not love. And all along…” Elizabeth shook her head. She forced herself to meet Darcy’s eyes though the intensity of the moment frightened her. “I love you too,” she whispered.

  For a moment, Darcy simply stared at her as if he had not heard her.

  “Oh, please say something,” she begged with a teary laugh. “Do not just look at me in silence.”

  “Forgive me. I can scarcely believe it and am afraid I have heard you wrong. Say it again.”

  “I already…”

  “Please.” He took both her hands in his, a look of heartfelt delight suffused all over his face.

  “I love you,” she said with more confidence this time.

  Darcy sighed and rested his forehead against hers.

  “I love you too.”

  He took her face in his hands. As his lips met hers, she felt as though her heart would explode with happiness. He eventually released her, and she nestled into his arms with a smile while he kissed her brow.

  “Thank god,” he said. “I never thought it would happen. I wanted it but was so afraid it never would. I thought there was no worse fate than marrying a woman I loved who did not love me in return.”

  “I thought there was no worse fate than marrying a man I loved who would only look on me with pity,” said Elizabeth with a little laugh. She squirmed closer as if she could not get near enough to him.

  He stroked her hair as she lay against him, winding one of her dark curls around his finger. “I wonder what you would have said if I proposed at Rosings?”

  Elizabeth shifted and fitted her hands inside his.

  “Now, it is incomprehensible that I should ever not wish to marry you. But if I am honest, I do not think I would have agreed. I did not like you then as well as I did now. I thought you proud and disdainful of others. And I thought you had treated Wickham terribly. But since then, I have seen your other qualities. Bravery, kindness, generosity, honesty, integrity — all the qualities I ever wanted in a man. It has been some time now since I have been convinced you were the man most suited to me — apart from a belief you did not love me, of course.” She looked up at him with a mischievous smile and Darcy took advantage of the moment to steal another kiss. God, he would never tire of this.

  “You were right in one sense,” he said, too happy to be pained by her confession. “I was proud, and I disdained others. I was taught to only value those in my circle. Falling in love with you and seeing what you thought of me was a painful lesson but I knew I must improve my character to be worthy of you. Even if it meant learning more than I ever wished to know about wedding bouquets and how best to arrange them, and whether to include sweetpeas” he added with a wry smile.

  “Perhaps I shall call you Sweetpea from now on,” said Elizabeth. She laughed as Darcy tickled her. “But you are not the only one who had to change. I had my own pride, you know. I prided myself on my quick judgment of others. It was why I disliked you and was so quick to believe Wickham. I trusted initial impressions more than I should have done. I did not allow that anyone might appear in a certain way when one has little understanding of them but might change on closer acquaintance. I was starting to suspect, and now I am sure, that you have all the goodness and Wickham all the appearance of it. But I confess, I am still bewildered he thought such a cheap trick could work on me. Did he really believe me that fickle?”

  “Wickham is vain and fickle so it is not surprising he should imagine others are as well. I wonder how far his plan went and whether Miss Bingley really is his accomplice. I cannot imagine her agreeing to such a thing with a man like that.”

  “Even to prevent your marriage? Come, you know she was set on becoming Mrs Darcy. If she thought she could end our engagement, she would seize it. Her and Wickham both found another with the same aim and worked together to achieve it. Unfortunately, they did not allow for the friendsh
ip that has been growing between us over the past few weeks. They could only see what they wished to see — that we did not care for one another. It never occurred to them we might confide our suspicions in one another.”

  “It gratifies me more than I can say that we have that understanding,” said Darcy contentedly. “If we were the people they believed us to be, I might have grown jealous, and you might have pulled away. They never imagined this would be the outcome. The precise opposite of what they wanted.” He tilted her chin up to kiss her again. He felt Elizabeth smile, and as he pulled back, her eyes shone.

  “What a poor pair of planners they are,” she said. “They all but forced us to declare our feelings for one another. I am glad you did not run back to Netherfield. You might have disappeared altogether, and I would have been like Isabella; forced to disguise myself as a boy so I might pursue you.”

  “And a pair of breeches and a cap is all it would have taken for me to be utterly fooled,” said Darcy, kissing the top of her head.

  “But what is to be done about them?”

  “I should like to warn Bingley, but I do not feel right saying so without proof, though I am confident he will believe me. I am disturbed at the depth the two of them were prepared to stoop to. Their selfishness will cause serious harm if it is not curbed.”

  “How about, for now, we allow them to continue as if their plan is working?” suggested Elizabeth. “If we are right, they will soon slip up and expose themselves. Because you are right. Two such people will only continue to cause misery if they are not stopped.”

  Darcy agreed.

  Finally, they reluctantly rose and walked back towards Longbourn before they could be missed. They held hands for as long as they could, only releasing one another when they came within sight of the house. Darcy pulled Elizabeth behind an oak tree for another too brief kiss before they walked to the house apart, trying to look for all the world as if there had been a disagreement between them.

  Chapter 28

  The next day, Darcy returned to Longbourn. Elizabeth was alone in the parlour. With swift steps, he pulled her to her feet and kissed her before the door opened.