Mr. Darcy Broke My Heart

by Beth Pattillo

  “We shall leave the door ajar,” he said, his expression very grave indeed. “Perhaps you would be so good as to stand just outside?” He paused. “In case your sister has need of you?”

  What he meant, of course, was in case anyone should happen along. Then Jane might slip back into the room, and Elizabeth’s reputation would be saved.

  Elizabeth, however, was not in support of such a scheme. “No, Jane. That will not be necessary.”

  But her words had little effect on her sister. “Five minutes, Colonel,” Jane said with her gentle smile. “And not a moment more.”

  “Jane—” Elizabeth’s protest was in vain. Her sister disappeared from the room, leaving the door ajar as the colonel had suggested. “Sir—”

  “You have no wish to see me, I’m sure,” he said, stepping toward her. Elizabeth resisted the impulse to retreat. “But I knew that I must come.”

  “You have no right, sir, to cut up my peace in this manner. Surely you have done enough already.”

  The censure in her words might have appeared directed at the colonel, but in truth, it was only for herself. He had done as honor dictated when she had made the fatal mistake of confessing the truth of Mr. Darcy’s feelings to him.

  I looked up at Harriet, who was still on the sofa next to me. “She told the colonel about Mr. Darcy’s near-proposal? But why?”

  Harriet shrugged. “I have no idea. Perhaps she felt guilty or needed a listening ear.”

  “And the colonel blew the whistle. Just in case his cousin succumbed to Elizabeth’s charms after all.”

  “Apparently. Although I’m sure Lady Catherine laid the blame at Elizabeth’s feet.”

  “No wonder she fled to London in disgrace. But not before Lady Catherine fired her.”

  “I would imagine Lady Catherine took issue with what she believed to be Elizabeth’s scheming after a rich husband.”

  I laughed. “Yes, I suppose she did. But why did the colonel come to London?”

  Harriet pointed toward the page. “Keep reading, dear.”

  Elizabeth frowned at the colonel. “Why are you here, sir? I have complied with your wishes. Your cousin is safe from my grasp. All is well at Rosings.”

  Colonel Fitzwilliam clasped his hands behind his back, as if preparing to review the troops. “There you are quite wrong, ma’am. Yes, most of the party at Rosings are quite recovered. But there is one person who is in a very bad way. A very bad way, indeed.”

  Elizabeth had not succumbed to her feelings from the moment she had departed Rosings. And now, in her uncle’s morning room, the colonel standing tall and imposing in front of her, she felt her composure began to weaken.

  “I hope you do not mean Miss de Bourgh. She was very well when I left her.”

  “She was in tears and very angry with her mother. Your company meant a great deal to her.”

  “I am sorry to cause her distress.”

  He cleared his throat. “But it was not Miss de Bourgh of whom I was speaking.”

  Elizabeth had turned to examine a china figurine on the mantelpiece, but at his words, she faced him again. “Was it not?”

  He reached out and took her hand in his. “Elizabeth—” His voice grew thick with emotion. “We have very little time. Let us speak plainly with one another.”

  “You made your feelings about me quite clear, Colonel, when you informed your aunt that your cousin was in peril. You need not have troubled yourself to come all this way.”

  He lifted her hand, brought it to his lips, and pressed a kiss against it. Elizabeth was so startled that she forgot, for one long moment, to breathe. A sudden weakness in her knees and the very real possibility of fainting brought her to her senses.

  “Sir—”

  “I am no Darcy,” the colonel said, his eyes dark with feeling. “I have no Pemberley, madam, and nothing like his twenty thousand pounds per annum.”

  Heat rose in Elizabeth’s cheeks. “I am no fortune hunter, sir,” she said. “Whatever you may think.”

  He shook his head. “No, you are not. I never said you were, however my aunt might have represented my actions.” He paused, and then to Elizabeth’s alarm, he lowered himself to one knee. He was still in possession of her hand, and she knew, in that moment, that he was truly in possession of her heart.

  “Colonel—”

  “Dearest, loveliest Elizabeth. My motives in exposing my cousin’s attachment to you were entirely selfish.”

  “Sir, please, do not—”

  “I will. I must.” He pressed his lips to her hand once more. “Darcy might have fancied himself in love with you, but he did not love you enough to risk the censure of his family and friends. I have no such hesitation. Refuse me, if you will. But I must ask. Will you marry me, Elizabeth? Will you make me the happiest of men?”

  She knew she should refuse, for his sake, no matter what her own feelings might be. “I am a very bad bargain, sir. I come with a large number of encumbrances. Five of them to be exact. All female and all sure to plague you for the rest of your days.”

  He rose to stand beside her then and took her other hand in his. “I shall not mind,” he said, leaning toward her, “as long as you will agree to plague me as well.”

  Jane, who had stood all this time with her ear pressed to the door, knew that the requisite five minutes had expired, but she made no move to open the door and reenter the room. In truth, it was only when Mrs. Gardiner appeared at the landing on the stairs above that Jane greeted her brightly enough to warn the pair inside the morning room and then entered herself, eager to wish her sister happy.

  Much later, after the colonel and Mr. Gardiner had met in private in the latter gentleman’s library, and a toast to the happy couple had been drunk, Colonel Fitzwilliam mentioned another matter of business he hoped to conduct while in town.

  “My cousin, Mr. Darcy, has charged me to deliver a message to his friend Mr. Bingley. He is a gentleman of wealth but no property and has long been searching for an appropriate situation.”

  “Mr. Bingley?” Elizabeth said. “We have heard of him. I believe he once expressed an interest in Netherfield Park.”

  “Yes,” said Jane with a smile. “It was a great disappointment to the neighborhood when he did not settle there.”

  “You must come accompany me when I call on him,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said to Jane and Elizabeth. “You will like Bingley well enough, I am sure. He is always a great favorite.”

  “We are always glad of a new acquaintance,” Jane said and reached to pour the colonel another cup of tea.

  I set the last page on the sofa table and allowed the mixture of feelings—joy, frustration, sadness—to wash over me. Lizzie married Colonel Fitzwilliam after Darcy spurned her. So that was it, then. First Impressions. Not the equal to Pride and Prejudice, but a small jewel in its own way, and perhaps a guide for how I might mend my own life. Perhaps the hero wasn’t born, but made. And perhaps a true heroine learned the difference only by having her heart broken along the way.

  “Harriet…” I spread my hand across the pages, as if seeking answers by touch rather than reason. But then I stopped. Because in that moment, the answers became clear. “I know what you should do with the manuscript.”

  She leaned forward. “Yes? What would your advice be, then, dear?”

  And so I told her.

  I was walking home from the cottage when my cell phone rang. To my surprise, it was Missy.

  “How are you?” she said. “I kept thinking you would call me back. I’ve been worried.”

  “I’m fine. Just exhausted. And confused. And worried.

  And—”

  Missy laughed.

  “What?” I couldn’t hide my annoyance.

  “I’m sorry, but for the first time in a long time, you sound like a normal human being.”

  “Thanks a lot.” My fingers closed around the phone. “I appreciate your vote of confidence.”

  “I’m just saying that it’s okay for you to be human. T
o make mistakes. To make a mess or two.”

  My spine stiffened. “Believe me, I’ve made plenty of mistakes.”

  “It’s not making them that’s your problem,” Missy said. “It’s admitting to them. You’ve buried yourself so deep in responsibility that I don’t know how you ever breathe.”

  “I do not—”

  “You didn’t die with them.”

  I jerked back from the phone, stung. “That’s a horrible thing to say. I know that. Don’t patronize—”

  “But that’s how you’ve lived your life ever since Mom and Dad were killed. As if you didn’t exist anymore. Or only existed to protect me.”

  “But—”

  “It’s time, Claire. Time for you to pick up the pieces and move forward.”

  “I thought that was what I’ve been doing.” Even though I recognized the truth in her words and had even said similar things to myself in the past few days, it was still painful to hear them coming from someone else.

  “I’m okay now, Claire.” She chuckled ruefully. “Well, as okay as I’m ever going to get in the midst of this craziness.”

  As if on cue, I could hear my nieces run screaming through the room past Missy. “Jocelyn! Slow down!” Missy called after her for all the good it did.

  I could picture it all in my mind. The twins racing through the family room, the big Lab hot on their heels and barking for all he was worth. Even knowing how chaotic my sister’s life could be, I saw in that moment that she was right. Did she need a maid? Yes. An au pair? Definitely. Me running her life and rescuing her from every hint of danger? No. Not anymore.

  I should have felt jubilant at this confirmation of what I’d so recently realized. I should have felt liberated. Free at last. But all I felt was deeply sad. Neil had been right after all. He ’d said that one day I would wake up and discover that I had no life of my own. And that day was today.

  “Claire? It’s going to be okay, you know.”

  That was the final nail in the coffin, her reaching out to comfort me as I had reached out to her all those years ago. The tables were now well and fully turned.

  “I’m okay,” I said. I refused to cry. “At least, I will be.”

  “What are you going to do when you get back? You know you’re welcome to stay with us if you need to give up your apartment.”

  I shook my head, even though she couldn’t see me from an ocean away. “I’ll be fine. I’ll find a cheaper apartment. An efficiency. Something simple. And then”—I took a deep breath—“I think I’m going to register for college at KU starting in the fall.”

  And then I could hear Missy crying on the other end of the line.

  “It’s okay, sis.” I made the same soothing noises she’d been making a few moments before. “I wouldn’t change a thing, even if I could. But you’re right. It’s time for a fresh start. Time to do something for myself. And the first thing I want to do is get my degree.”

  “What will you major in?” I could hear her sniffing back her tears.

  Suddenly I felt as if a great weight had tumbled from my shoulders. “I have absolutely no idea. That’s the best part. I’m going to take whatever strikes my fancy until, well, until I figure out what strikes my fancy.”

  “Including a Jane Austen seminar or two?” Missy asked with a laugh.

  Despite everything that had happened, I could laugh along with her. “Yeah. Maybe. Only nothing that includes Pride and Prejudice in any form or fashion.”

  I thought about how excited Missy would have been to be invited into Harriet Dalrymple’s cottage to read the manuscript to which I’d been privy. I hated keeping such an enormous secret from my sister, but I had promised.

  “What about Neil?” Missy asked. “Have you talked to him since he left?”

  “I don’t think he’s interested in being part of my new life. Not after everything that’s happened.”

  “But isn’t he worth fighting for? Shouldn’t you at least try to see him?”

  “I don’t think so.” He’d made his feelings about our lack of a future clear during that last conversation.

  “What if you—”

  “Missy, stop. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay.”

  “I know you will. But I’d like for you to be happy as well as okay.”

  Now tears were filling my eyes too, and I knew it was time to hang up. “I’ll see you soon.”

  “Yeah. See you soon.”

  I snapped my phone shut and stowed it in my purse.

  Harriet had asked me to do one last thing for her, and so on Saturday morning, I entered the courtyard of the Bodleian Library with both trepidation and relief. This time, though, I wasn’t there to do research. This time I was on an errand of a very different nature, one that would surely make the librarians of that great library expire on the spot, if they knew of it.

  I had once more tucked the manuscript of First Impressions in my purse, and the weight of it, both physically and emotionally, hung heavy on my shoulder. The courtyard would be busier later in the day, as students and tourists began moving about, but at the moment, it was fairly quiet. I stood uncomfortably, shifting from one foot to the other, eager to complete my task. Several long minutes passed before I saw her, framed in the archway. She paused when she saw me and then moved forward with purpose.

  “Good morning, Miss Prescott.”

  “Good morning, Mrs. Parrot.”

  She wore a heavy cardigan over another flowered dress and carried a black umbrella that looked to have weathered a number of storms.

  “Harriet called and asked that I meet you here, but she wouldn’t say why.” The older woman held herself stiffly, as if bracing for bad news. “Although perhaps I can guess. She’s given you the manuscript, hasn’t she?”

  I slipped my purse from my shoulder and reached inside. Harriet had tied the pages together with another piece of ribbon, lavender this time. “Yes. She gave it to me.” I held it front of me, testing the weight of it in my hands.

  Mrs. Parrot’s shoulders sank. “I had hoped—” She broke off in midsentence, as if overcome, but then she took a deep breath and straightened her spine. “I have no choice except to respect Harriet’s wishes, but if there is any way I can persuade you to reconsider.” She shook her head. “But you know the value of the manuscript, of course. I am sure your friend, Mr. Beaufort, will be happy to help you squeeze every shilling from it.”

  “Mrs. Parrot—”

  “You need not say anything else.” She tucked her umbrella under her arm, as if sheathing a sword. “Although I would ask you, please, not to say anything of the Formidables. Allow the manuscript to be enough.”

  “But, Mrs. Parrot—”

  “The hunt will be on, of course, once this turns up, for all things Austen. We will need to redouble our efforts.” She pinned me with her gaze. “I hope it will be worth it. At least reassure me you will see to Harriet’s comfort with the proceeds.”

  “Mrs. Parrot, please.” I held up my free hand. “If you would let me get a word in edgewise…”

  Her jaw dropped. “Edgewise? My good woman—”

  “I’m giving you the manuscript,” I blurted out. “Harriet asked me what she should do, and I told her she should give you the manuscript.”

  “What?” She looked as if I’d just struck her.

  “She wants the Formidables to have it. I told her that it was the right thing to do.”

  I had expected Mrs. Parrot to receive the news with some joy. Instead, she narrowed her eyes and stared me down.

  “Why?”

  “What do you mean, why?” I said. She apparently had never heard the saying about gift horses and not looking them in the mouth.

  “Why did you advise Harriet to give the manuscript to us?”

  I paused. “I didn’t know very much about Jane Austen before I came to Oxford.” I glanced around me. “Nothing, really, beyond Pride and Prejudice and some movie versions of her other books. I thought she just wrote some love stories, and tha
t was pretty much it.”

  “And now?” Mrs. Parrot’s eyebrows rose.

  “I know her better. Not as much as you, or as some of these people.” I waved a hand to indicate the people who were now moving through the courtyard. “I may never be a true scholar. But I think I’ve learned enough to know the most important thing about her.”

  “And what would that be?” Mrs. Parrot still looked skeptical.

  “I think I have to trust that Austen knew her own mind as well as her heart. If she had wanted First Impressions to be public, she wouldn’t have given it to Cassandra to destroy along with her letters. I think she wanted to give Mr. Darcy a chance to redeem himself. Or at least give herself a chance to redeem him.”

  “You don’t think the world has a right to know of its existence?” She waved a hand at the manuscript.

  I shrugged. “A right to know? Maybe. Or maybe not.” I looked at her, struggling to find the words for what I was trying to say. “All I know is that you’re the only one besides Harriet who didn’t want to make a profit off of it. You’re the only one who wanted to treasure it.” I handed her the ribbon-wrapped pages. “You’ve been at this a lot longer than I have. Maybe someday you’ll decide that it needs to be made known to the world. But for now, it’s your secret to keep.”

  She took the manuscript from me, and I felt the loss of its weight more in my heart than in my hands. I also felt, at that moment, the strangest sense of connection with Jane Austen, as if I’d had at least a glimpse of what it must have been like when she herself turned over her letters and papers to her sister. I’d known she died at a young age, but until that moment, I hadn’t realized how significant that fact was. She had been a woman in her prime, maybe ten years older than I was at that moment, struck down by illness, forced to rely on others to protect her privacy. She had known what she wanted her legacy to be and had acted accordingly, but the fate of her work hadn’t been in her hands alone.

  “Thank you,” Mrs. Parrot said, and I could see the glimmer of tears in her eyes. She might be a Formidable, but she was a Formidable with a heart. “We will take good care of it.”