“That is exactly what I am saying.” He stopped. So did she. “I have explained my poor attitude the night we met at the assembly to your father. Gratefully, he accepted the extenuating circumstances behind my rudeness. Now, I beg for your forgiveness for uttering a lie in your presence. You are far more than tolerable and are certainly handsome enough to tempt me. As a gentleman, I should never have had such thoughts about a female. My shame is only exceeded by my embarrassment at having been overheard. I failed to act the gentleman.”
She gave no quarter. “You did.”
“Your father also reminded me to clarify my relationship with my cousin Anne. Never have I wanted to marry her, and she has never wanted to be my bride. Only her mother sees the benefit of our being joined in matrimony. Lady Catherine’s reasons are purely selfish. With Anne as my wife in distant Derbyshire, Lady Catherine could keep control of her estate in Kent. I have never proposed to anyone in my lifetime.”
She nodded, accepting his explanation. Then it hit him. He was wrong.
“Oh, my word! Forgive me,” he begged. “I just told another lie. I, for whom honesty is a part of my very being.”
He no longer could look upon her lovely face, such was his remorse.
“I did ask Anne to marry me,” he confessed. “I was eight-years-old. She had a pony I wanted to ride. She was two years older and had never learned to share. She refused me in no uncertain terms. I lost a bride and an opportunity to ride her horse with one word. I was far more devastated about the animal than the girl.”
“I see.”
There was not one note of teasing from her, nor humor at his tale.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he sighed, removed his beaver hat, and ran his hand through his hair. “While I had assumed you would expect my address, your father assured me you did not. It was apparent from the response you gave when you entered your father’s study that Mr. Collins’ addresses were not warranted nor appreciated either. Neither your father, Mr. Collins, nor I have allowed you to have your say about the events of last night at the ball and this morning in Mr. Bennet’s study. You have tempered your opinions under great duress, I am sure. Perhaps the better way to start is for you to speak your mind.” He stepped back from her, bowed, and indicated with a sweep of his arms that she had the floor.
Chapter 4
Her words hit him with the force of a tornado.
“I loathe you as equally as I do Mr. Collins, sir.” Elizabeth glared at him as she spoke. “Other than a few essentials, you and Mr. Collins are very much the same. Your pompous superiority, your officious opinions, your slighting of my family and my neighbors should make you question your definition of what a true gentleman is.”
She barely took a breath before continuing. “In comparison, I look to the example of amiable Mr. Bingley and charming Mr. Wickham.” She smirked. “Oh, I see your reaction at the mention of his name. It is no different than it was during our dance. When given the opportunity to clarify your relationship, you responded with pithy comments that did nothing to inform me as to the man’s true character, which reflects poorly upon yours. Is this the mark of a true gentleman? I think not.”
“You, Mr. Darcy, have misused your wealth and family name to trample upon the kind citizens of Hertfordshire who wanted nothing more than to welcome you to the area. You belittled my family, treating my own mother as if she was a bug you would enjoy squashing each time you are in the same room. The mask of indifference you wear fails to hide the disapprobation in your eyes when you are in her company. Is this the mark of a true gentleman? Absolutely not.”
“When Miss Bingley and her supercilious sister made condescending cuts against me and the sweetest lady on the planet, my dear sister, Jane, you did and said nothing,” Elizabeth snorted. “No, that is not entirely correct, is it? Despite my intention not to eavesdrop, I could not help but overhear your slight when I removed myself from the drawing room. At Miss Bingley’s comment, ‘Eliza Bennet is one of those young ladies who seek to recommend themselves to the other sex by undervaluing their own, and with many men, I dare say, it succeeds. But, in my opinion, it is a paltry device, a very mean art.’ And, do you recall your response, Mr. Darcy?”
When he started to answer, she added, “Oh, do not struggle to remember, sir. You clearly said, ‘Undoubtedly’. Is this the comment of a gentleman? No.”
“Just as Mr. Collins cared not for my opinions or feelings, completely disregarding any response I made to him, you too have never really listened to what I had to say. You have continued in your sole pursuit of your own happiness, unconcerned about the happiness of others, in particular, of mine. Is this selfish disdain for the feelings of others the mark of a true gentleman? Of course not.”
“Lastly, I watched you closely when Jane and Mr. Bingley were in company. Your blatant disapproval was as obvious on your face as if you had penned your feelings on parchment and shared it with the room. How dare you judge my sister as wanting in any way. She is reticent in company, yet completely relaxed around your friend. Did you note that, sir? Of course, you did not. Why? Because you cannot look beyond your own exalted conclusions. Jane is very much like the wrapped package you mentioned. Her serenity hides deep feelings. She carefully and wisely guards her trust. In my opinion, she has no peer. Yet, you overlook her worth because she lacks wealth, connections, and is not overt in displaying her feelings. How could you? Do you feel you have been overt in displaying yours?”
Tears born of anger filled her eyes. He felt wretched at his actions having caused them.
“Mr. Darcy, the only reason I can assume that you would want me for a bride is an unhealthy desire to lord your circumstances over one much lower in society. Does it make you feel more the man when you do this? Does this somehow feed your ego? Is your arrogance and conceit not enough that you need to keep someone downtrodden so you feel good about yourself? I cannot begin to imagine any other reason why you have spoken with my father this morning. You certainly never indicated by your actions or speech that you held me in affection. I definitely do not have kindly feelings towards you at all. Thus, to press your suit is repellant to me to the same extent I felt when Mr. Collins attempted to gain my consent this morning.”
Elizabeth paced back and forth twice until she stopped before him. “Am I clear in all I have said? Is there any ambiguity I need to interpret or simplify so there is no doubt in your mind or mine that you fully comprehend my feelings?” She taunted him, her ire as vicious as each word she uttered.
“No, Madam. I fully understand your feelings and your reasoning,” he said.
With a heart crushed and battered, he bowed to her, checked his time piece, and turned back towards Longbourn. “It is time we return.”
In silence they walked the lane leading to the front door. Mr. Bennet had been correct. His wife was waving a white handkerchief from the window of the front room, and a series of changing female faces peered out the upstairs glass. Mr. Collins paced back and forth in front of the door, effectively blocking their way.
“I will see you inside to the safety of your father,” Darcy offered.
Miss Elizabeth tipped her head slightly in acceptance.
It was a weary and beaten Fitzwilliam Darcy who rode Apollo recklessly through the fields between Longbourn and Netherfield Park. With Bingley in London, Darcy sought to avoid the company of Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst. Even Mr. Hurst, Bingley’s brother-in-law, would not have been good company. Or rather, Darcy knew he himself would be a poor companion to anyone.
No, I will not become maudlin! Darcy mused. I will not allow sorrow to overtake me from the results of the morning. I will not wallow in self-pity. I will not allow Mr. Collins to win!
He needed help. Realizing he had dug himself into a hole so deep he could no longer see daylight, Darcy pondered who best could advise him. Certainly not his closest friend, his unmarried cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam. The man lacked tact, could charm the ink off a page, and had never loved anyone or anything more tha
n his horse.
Returning to Netherfield Park, he handed Apollo to a groom and hurried to his chambers. There he dipped his quill into the ink and wrote.
30 October 1811
Netherfield Park
Dearest Georgiana,
I hope this finds you well. Before you ask, yes, I did dance at Bingley’s ball. Regretfully so.
My dear sister, I find I am in sore need of some assistance and believe you are the perfect person to solicit for help. In asking this of you, I pray you will understand that I am not wanting to harm your tender sensitivities by reminding you of the unsavory event of this summer. However, from our discussions I sense that romance has been very much on your mind. I also understand that you now discern the difference between infatuation and true love.
I cannot invite you to Hertfordshire as that rake who exposed himself to you as ungentlemanly is in residence not three miles from Bingley’s estate. I would never place your person in his path. Therefore, I beg you to consider the following carefully before you give me the fullness of your youthful wisdom on paper if not in person. Pray forgive me for my errors which you will read below. I offer no excuses for my poor conduct except my feet have been swept out from under me by a lady your size, if you can imagine. It is to regain my footing that I seek your help.
Her name is Miss Elizabeth Bennet. She is without equal. For a certainty, she is not the bride I ever expected to marry, as she has no fortune nor position in society. Yet, she is delightful.
There is another who seeks her as his wife. He has far less that he can offer her. Nonetheless, Miss Elizabeth is far from mercenary. She would not choose me because of Pemberley. Thus, I am left with only my character to impress her. In this, both myself and the other man have failed astronomically.
You see, at first, I believed her to be beneath my notice. Her father is a country squire with a silly wife and a total of five daughters. Where Miss Elizabeth and her elder sister are not avaricious, their mother very much is. I had assumed, incorrectly, that all the daughters, including Miss Elizabeth, were like the matron of the family.
Upon becoming better acquainted, I failed to take into account the negative aspects of being in the company of Bingley’s sisters when in Miss Elizabeth’s presence. While, for the most part, I ignored their snide comments, Miss Elizabeth believed my silence to be agreement with the sly remarks that were, in truth, insulting. In addition, Wickham’s presence in the area with his tales of woe against my person has created a vast gulf between me and the lady I admire. She finds Wickham charming, as you can imagine.
I have been offered by her intelligent father the opportunity of having thirty minutes a day for the next six days to convince Miss Elizabeth that my suit is superior to the other man’s. Since she will not marry without respect and admiration, I am direly in need of quickly improving her opinion of me so she can see clear to accept me as her husband.
This no doubt has distressed you, dear Georgie. I apologize for discomposing you. I need to know: How do I please a woman worthy of being pleased?
Pray give this careful consideration, but do not take too long. The clock is ticking until I meet her again. I would feel more confident if I had your sound guidance accompanying me when I arrive at Longbourn in the morning.
I am always your
Devoted brother,
FD
Sealing the missive, he had Parker take it directly to Meryton to engage an express rider. If all went well, the letter would be in Georgiana’s hands in the late afternoon. Hopefully, he should have a reply before morning. In the meantime, he prayed for divine intervention. He needed all of the help he could get.
Chapter 5
Bingley returned from London late that evening. Darcy was pacing impatiently when he walked into the library.
“I stopped by Darcy House to see if they had correspondence needing your attention.” Bingley grinned at the huge stack of mail in his hands. “I continue to be grateful this falls to your lot and not to me. By the by, Miss Darcy asked that I personally deliver this one to you along with a message that a longer reply will be sent express before daybreak in the morning.”
Darcy yearned to rip the parchment from the hands of a friend who had only ever been kind to him. Instead, taking the time to ask about the success of Bingley’s business, he was ill-prepared for the length of Bingley’s reply.
Finally, he held the letter. Excusing himself, Darcy rushed to his room. Prepared to welcome Georgiana’s fount of female perception, he broke the seal to find only four words. Four small words that had the power to weaken his knees until he dropped into a chair.
Beads of perspiration gathered on his upper lip as he crumpled the paper in his hands— hands that shook. Oh, Lord! What was he going to do now?
Smoothing the parchment over his thigh, he reread the words that were now indelibly imprinted in his soul. “Do you love her?”
How was he to answer? Did he, indeed, love Elizabeth Bennet?
He was ready and willing to make a fool of himself in her pursuit, was he not? Was that not love? Or, was it merely the competition that had stirred him to action? Was it the idea of her attached to Collins that motivated him?
Darcy’s mind began to play horrendous tricks on him.
He closed his eyes to ponder Georgiana’s question. Immediately a picture appeared of Mr. Collins alone with Elizabeth in a carriage, he dressed in his parson’s black, she garbed in the same dress she had worn to the ceremony in the dream that started his preoccupation with marrying Miss Elizabeth. As soon as the newly wedded Collins’ transport pulled away from Longbourn, Mr. Collins boldly moved to sit alongside his new bride. Taking her hand in his, he pulled her towards him for a lengthy...
No! Standing, Darcy poured himself a brandy, drinking it in one gulp. Walking to the window, he pulled aside the curtains to look out at the black of night. Another picture filled his vision. Elizabeth, for she was now Elizabeth to him, dressed in black from under her chin to her toes. It was not Collins who had died. Instead, it was her laid out for public inspection by those who genuinely cared for her. Reports whispered amongst the mourners were that she had died of a heart broken by disappointments and sheer boredom.
Wanting to bawl, Darcy stiffened his spine. The pain of loss from that last vision hit him in the gut, twisting and pulling until he felt he could not take in the next breath. His thoughts churned with the same pulsing rhythm until he felt he would be sick.
Returning to the chair, Darcy kept his eyes open as he reflected on the condition of his heart. Would he have missed her had he left for Pemberley early that morning? Would he have regretted not seeing her again? Would he have forgotten her in a few weeks? Could there be someone else out in the world he had yet to meet who had better circumstances, had the same ready intelligence, and the same soulful eyes?
Shaking his head, Darcy had no more need to ponder when the answer was as obvious as the nose on his face. He well and truly loved Elizabeth Bennet with a heartfelt affection that robbed him of any ability to look elsewhere. She, and only she, would complete him. Where he lacked, she had strength. Where he was more than adequate, she...no, she was insufficient in nothing.
Reading Georgiana’s note again, he knew his answer with confidence. He, Fitzwilliam Darcy, master of Pemberley and Darcy House, was madly in love with Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
He smiled. The relief at having reached the proper conclusion relaxed him. He knew exactly what he had to do. Strategize. He would plan his offensive in detail, so he missed nothing. The war was on. Darcy was determined to be the victor. However, first, he needed to make a defensive maneuver. He would write to her the full extent of his dealings with Wickham. In that way, he would not need to use his thirty minutes to explain the truth about the rogue. Instead, he would court the lady properly.
While he waited for Georgiana’s full response, he rode Apollo over Bingley’s fields looking for wildflowers. Somehow, he inherently knew Elizabeth would prefer them to hothouse roses
. Unfortunately, the seasonably chilly weather of the past two mornings plus the downpour they had each of the four days preceding Bingley’s ball had destroyed any hopes of his presenting her a lovely bouquet. He did see some pretty leaves but chose not to gather them as a gift. What was he to do?
Returning to Netherfield after his exhaustive search, he arrived at the same time as the express delivery. When the young man pulled a lone letter from his pouch, Darcy approached in hopes it was for him. It was.
Before he could gather a few coins from the purse from his pocket, the rider lifted out a wrapped bundle.
“This be for you as well.”
Darcy hefted it in his hands. It was weighty. What could Georgiana have sent?
Thanking the man for his service, Darcy pointed him towards the servants’ entrance so the young man could get a meal and respite before he left for his next stop.
“The person what arranged the delivery asked that I wait for your reply should you have one.”
Darcy nodded, then left him to rush to his rooms. On his way inside the house, Darcy told the butler he wanted to remain undisturbed.
Hesitating, he wondered whether to read the letter first or open the package. Letter.
30 October 1811, late evening
Darcy House, London
Dear Fitzwilliam,
Thank you for your letter. I will admit to some surprise at your handing me the task of assisting you in winning Miss Elizabeth. Although I will not expect you to take the time now to write me in detail, I would like to hear much more about her. She sounds, as you said, delightful.
Due to my lack of experience, I considered what would be the height of romance to me. This is a dangerous thing to do, as I am too young to be thinking in this manner. However, with your permission, I would ask that you think about my reply with all seriousness.
One Bride & Two Grooms Page 3