A Fair Prospect

by Cassandra Grafton

  With a grunt, Fitzwilliam threw himself into the nearest chair and immediately beckoned a servant to fill his platter. It would seem it was down to him to improve the situation.

  Tucking into his breakfast, he reflected on how proud his mother would be of him, for who could have foreseen that he would turn a maker of matches, and for all people, his Cousin Darcy?

  ~o0o~

  Finally dressed, Elizabeth turned to survey the room, her eyes drifting against her volition towards Mr Darcy’s letter. She walked over and picked it up, smoothing out the creases and putting the pages into order. So engrossed was she in her task that she failed to discern the knocking on the door, and she spun around startled to perceive that Charlotte had come into the room.

  “Dear Lizzy. I was concerned and could not rouse you…” Charlotte let the sentence hang in the air between them.

  Forcing a smile, Elizabeth instinctively put the hand holding the letter behind her back.

  “How are you this morning?”

  “I am much revived, Charlotte,” Elizabeth lied, knowing full well that her tired and pale complexion would not escape her friend’s notice.

  “Hmmm,” Charlotte frowned. “Whatever was ailing you seems to linger yet.”

  “I am well, truly I am.” Elizabeth crossed the room and placed the letter in her writing case before turning to face her friend.

  “You look unhappy. Have you been dwelling on Jane’s situation? I know her letters have brought you little comfort.”

  Thankful for Charlotte’s misconception, Elizabeth was quick to reply. “I was just re-reading something… suffice to say, it has affected my mood, that is all.”

  Charlotte shook her head. “You should not distress yourself so, Lizzy. Jane will overcome her disappointment, you will see, as will you on her behalf.”

  Elizabeth summoned a smile. Then, she realised that Charlotte held something out to her, and with a start she saw it was another letter.

  “I am certain that as the postmark is ‘Cheapside’, you are soon to have your anxiety relieved.”

  “Dear Charlotte,” Elizabeth said as she took it. “Pray forgive me. I promise you most faithfully, whatever news my sister brings me, that I will join you in the parlour directly, and I beg you would excuse my poor manners of the past four and twenty hours.”

  Charlotte shook her head. “I am only relieved to hear that you are in better spirits”, and she left her to read her correspondence.

  ~o0o~

  Darcy awoke to a pounding head that momentarily distracted him from his depressed mood. He passed a weary hand across his eyes and groaned. Against his expectations, he had neither lain awake wrapped in memories, nor slept encompassed in his dreams – it had been an abyss.

  His recollection of the previous evening was poor, yet he remained confident that he made no confession to his cousin; his failed proposal, his summary rejection and the associated humiliation and despair were his alone to bear – though he could distinctly recall having no small difficulty negotiating the staircase.

  Raising his head from the pillow, Darcy squinted about the room. The glare of daylight through the gap in the heavy brocade drapes hinted at the progression of the morning, and the sounds of a bath being prepared in his dressing room confirmed that it was time to rise and face the day. Rubbing a hand against his aching forehead, he slowly eased himself to the edge of the bed and surveyed the room.

  The sight of Thornton, his face a study of resigned disapproval, righting an overturned chair, along with the fact that Darcy appeared to still be attired in last night’s shirt and breeches, stirred a vague memory of his cousin hauling him off the floor and dropping him with little ceremony onto the bed, but beyond that he could recall nothing.

  Standing a little unsteadily, he walked purposefully towards the door to his dressing room, relieved to see Thornton heading for the small medicinal cabinet where he kept restorative powders.

  Upon entering the dining room some time later, Darcy’s confidence faltered as he encountered Fitzwilliam’s smug expression as he greeted him jovially. Had it not been for the pain in his head and the queasiness in his stomach, he may have questioned what it was that had given the Colonel his air of complacency. As it was, he was more intent on holding his hand steady as he attempted to consume a much-needed cup of tea.

  ~o0o~

  Her heart lightened by her letter, Elizabeth was true to her word and soon joined Charlotte in the parlour.

  “So you are to leave me a week earlier than planned, Lizzy. I shall miss your company most sorely.” Charlotte busied herself preparing the tea as she spoke, and Elizabeth chewed her lip as she studied once more the letter in her hand.

  “I am sorry to desert you, Charlotte. Much as I am relieved to perceive the improvement in Jane’s spirits, and anxious as I am to see her, I would not have curtailed my visit had it not been at my aunt’s particular request.”

  Charlotte straightened up, offering a cup to her friend.

  “Do not concern yourself. One must bow to the dictates of family, and I am sure that there are few occasions when your Aunt Gardiner has been obliged to make a demand of you.”

  Elizabeth nodded, thankful for her friend’s understanding, and the two girls settled themselves down to their tea.

  “So tell me,” Charlotte continued, “How does Jane fare? Is she much improved, for you seem well pleased by her letter?”

  “She seems in good spirits, and it appears my company is required because of the presence of our aunt’s Godson. You recall Mr Nicholas Harington, do you not?”

  Charlotte laughed. “Who could fail to remember Mr Harington? So it is he that lightens the spirits. Or is my assumption too reminiscent of your mother not so many years back?”

  Elizabeth smiled. “Indeed; who could forget Mama’s attempts to match either Jane or myself with Nicholas? Fortunately, he escaped her clutches, much to our relief, such a friendship as we have always had! I am sure he has done much to help Jane rally, for she reports that he has kept her and my aunt and uncle well entertained. I must own that I am eager to see him.”

  “Well, then,” Charlotte added more tea to Elizabeth’s cup, “You have but two days to endure before you head for the gaiety of London and the renewal of old friendships. We must make arrangements for your journey thither.”

  “It is done! My uncle feels the obligation, as it is at their request that I join them earlier; thus he sends a carriage on Wednesday.”

  Charlotte smiled. “Then it is all settled. I am pleased you are well once more and that you have something more exciting to look forward to than merely a return to Longbourn! We shall be a sorry party here once all the visitors are gone, for Mr Darcy and the Colonel depart on the morrow, do they not?”

  Elizabeth’s smile faltered for a moment. “I believe so.”

  “Though,” her friend continued with a smile as she got up to give the fire a prod with the poker, “their continued presence is, by all accounts, unprecedented, for I understand from Mr Collins that Mr Darcy has twice postponed his departure this year.”

  Elizabeth’s cup rocked as she placed it rather quickly back onto its saucer as Charlotte returned the poker to its resting place and resumed her seat.

  “Lady Catherine has been expressing her satisfaction to Mr Collins – she believes it indicates her nephew’s growing preference for Miss de Bourgh’s company. It is perhaps impolitic of me to say so, but I confess I do not envy Mr Darcy should he formalise the anticipated arrangement.”

  Struggling for the appearance of disinterest, Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders. “Perhaps he has no intention of being persuaded to his aunt’s way of thinking.”

  “What, then, might be the attraction that causes Mr Darcy to linger in Kent? With the entire ton at his disposal, one must wonder at his sense of duty towards his aunt and cousin.”

  Elizabeth sighed. The constant allusion to Mr Darcy incited a pressing desire to excuse herself and return to the sanctuary of her room, and wi
th that in mind, she stood up.

  “Pray excuse me for a moment, Charlotte. I – I,” she hesitated, then with relief her eyes lighted upon Jane’s discarded letter. Snatching it up from the table she waved it vaguely in the air. “I must away and respond to Jane’s letter, so that my aunt and uncle know that I expect the carriage. I should not delay, or my letter will not reach them beforehand.”

  “Of course; it will put everyone’s mind at ease.” Charlotte returned her attention to the tea tray, and with a poorly concealed sigh of relief, Elizabeth turned towards the door.

  “Oh, and Lizzy?”

  Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder.

  “You will be delighted to know that we are invited to dine at Rosings this evening – it will be an opportunity for us to farewell the gentlemen.”

  Chapter Five

  Darcy’s belief that the lateness of the hour would secure him solitude at the table was mistaken. Though it was apparent that the others had broken their fast without him, not one made a show of rising, and before he had swallowed his first mouthful of hot tea, his aunt had launched into an invective on his failure to return to the drawing room on the previous evening. From the way she gestured at a servant to refill her cup and pulled herself up in her seat, Darcy knew she had no intention of letting him off lightly this morning.

  He nursed his cup in his hands, conscious that Fitzwilliam had taken advantage of Darcy’s appearance to request a fresh serving. Unlike his cousin, he had little appetite. Now that the pounding in his head had begun to recede, the ache in his breast had intensified. The pain of his rejection, combined with Elizabeth’s poor opinion of his character, hurt his sense of his own self- worth, and yes, his pride – though he shied away from the word as it crossed his mind.

  “You must come, Darcy. And bring Georgiana – I insist upon it.”

  There was little at present that could draw Darcy in, but hearing his sister’s name, he directed his gaze towards Lady Catherine.

  “Come whither, Aunt?”

  “Whither? Surely you recall our conversation at dinner?”

  Darcy looked at her blankly.

  “Well?” she snapped, her narrowed gaze fixed upon him.

  He raised a brow, determined to stare her out, despite the increased pain in his head, but before a silent battle could ensue, Colonel Fitzwilliam spoke up.

  “Aunt, I believe Darcy has commitments in Town that would prevent him joining you and Anne on your visit to Bath. Is that not so, Darcy?”

  “Fitzwilliam is correct. My apologies, Aunt. I trust your stay will be beneficial, Cousin.” He glanced briefly in Anne de Bourgh’s direction, surprised to note that she had raised her head to stare at him quite fixedly.

  “What nonsense, Darcy!” his aunt snapped. “I will not be gainsaid. It is long overdue for Georgiana to spend some time with Anne, and what finer place than Bath at this time of year? You are too selfish!”

  Darcy flinched; his wounds were too fresh to take another pounding, albeit he cared little for his aunt’s approbation. Putting down his cup, he leaned back in his seat as she extolled the benefits of Bath for Anne’s constitution. Had she but left the matter there, he would have wasted no further breath on it; yet Lady Catherine was not finished.

  “What a fine opportunity for Georgiana,” she announced. “She is far too introverted, Darcy. She is but a season from her coming out, yet her shyness consumes her. This would be an excellent opportunity for her to experience some smaller social occasions not under the eye of the ton, as well as for the furtherance of her intimacy with Anne. Social skills must be practiced like all accomplishments, if she is not to disgrace the Darcy name.”

  Conscious that Georgiana’s palpable timidity in front of her aunt was solely down to that lady’s intimidating manner, he suppressed the desire to tell her so, merely saying in a biting tone: “Georgiana is making excellent progress in all aspects of her education; removing her from ease of access to her tutors in Town will hardly be conducive to her improvement.”

  Lady Catherine eyed him beadily, but before she could respond, Darcy drained his cup and rose from the table.

  “You will excuse me, ladies – Fitzwilliam. I will see you at dinner,” and tuning out his aunt’s voice as she began to protest, he left the room.

  Darcy had perhaps climbed three stairs when he became conscious of someone behind him, and without turning or pausing in his ascent, he said wearily, “What is it, Fitzwilliam?”

  ~o0o~

  The letter to Gracechurch Street soon dealt with, Elizabeth felt some reluctance to return to the parlour and lingered at the writing desk. The chance of tendering an apology to Mr Darcy she had initially negated, but now she had cause to consider whether such an opportunity might present itself that evening. Yet how could such a delicate matter be addressed in company, and how would it feel to face the man she had so recently rejected?

  The reminder of the proposal was most unsettling, all the more so as the shock of Mr Darcy’s making such an application diminished. Elizabeth sighed as she acknowledged what troubled her – the gentleman had asked her to be joined to him in matrimony; he desired her as his wife and, try as she might, she could not negate thoughts of all that it entailed. A deep blush infused her cheeks as she recalled the intensity of his declaration, followed by the memory of their embrace, and glancing at the open writing case, she vividly recalled the words of his letter where he confessed that it was the ‘utmost force of passion’ that had led him to override all his apprehensions about the match.

  With a groan of frustration at the turn of her thoughts, Elizabeth got to her feet. Picking up the letter to her aunt, she quickly locked the case before she could give in to the temptation to take Mr Darcy’s letter out and peruse it once more. How foolish her presumption that reading it would rid her of such thoughts. The notion that she could dismiss him was a fallacy. Little had she foreseen that, with much of the reasoning behind her dislike blown to nothingness, there were few obstacles against her growing interest in the man. Worse than this, the treacherous memory of how it felt to be held against him was no longer safe-guarded by her disgust, and without the protection of her former animosity, she felt both vulnerable and very young.

  ~o0o~

  Colonel Fitzwilliam paused as he crossed his room to collect some papers from the desk. Something had caught his eye and, moving over to one of the windows, he saw Darcy riding at speed across the park towards the open countryside that spanned the area between Rosings and the nearest town of Coxheath. Not a man to alarm easily, the Colonel nevertheless winced as Darcy took a fence at a reckless pace, though he knew his concerns were groundless – there were few men with a better seat on a horse than his cousin.

  Settling himself at his desk, prepared to suffer an hour or two of military business, Colonel Fitzwilliam reflected on his brief discourse with Darcy after breakfast. His suggestion that they tarry another week in Kent had been greeted with silence as they mounted the staircase. A curt negation had followed, with Darcy refusing to be persuaded from either leaving the next day or from taking a long and solitary ride now.

  With a sigh, the Colonel tossed the papers back onto his desk; he could not concentrate. He did not appreciate being thwarted, and he had relied upon encouraging Darcy to extend their stay further – or at the very least to making the most of this last day – but the futility of the scheme was now clear. With Darcy absent on a solitary ride in the opposite direction to those walks where they had often encountered the lady, the Colonel needed a plan.

  He was thus gratified to learn later from his aunt that, as a mark of respect for his and Darcy’s final night of their stay, the company from the parsonage had been honoured with one final invitation to dine at Rosings and, rubbing his hands together in glee, the Colonel took himself off for a walk about the park, confident that the evening would deliver ample opportunity to further Darcy’s cause.

  ~o0o~

  As the afternoon faded, Elizabeth found herself once mor
e sharing the parlour with Charlotte as they both worked on their needlepoint, though her progress was lamentable.

  “I do not wish to go, Charlotte. I cannot believe that such an intrusion on the family’s last evening would be either welcome or required.”

  “That is as may be, Lizzy, but Lady Catherine has taken it upon herself to extend the invitation, and you know full well that it is more by way of an order.”

  Elizabeth rose quickly from her chair, discarding her tangled work, and began to pace to and fro before the fire. Despite her desire to apologise, her heart quailed at the thought, perceiving disgust in his expression, the admiration she had failed to detect having turned to dislike. How could it not in the circumstances? “I cannot… I simply… I simply cannot...”

  “Cannot what?” Charlotte’s question brought Elizabeth’s pacing to a halt, conscious that she must have uttered the words aloud.

  “Believe that Lady Catherine would extend yet another invitation to our party.” She hesitated. “Must we accept?”

  Charlotte frowned. “Lizzy, think!” How will it appear if you do not accompany us, after excusing yourself yesterday? I know you have little patience for my husband, but he was beside himself with what he perceived as an affront to his patroness. If you fail to attend her this evening, he may well write to Mr Bennet,” Charlotte paused for a moment. “And I believe you love your father too well to wish him the recipient of a long letter of censure from my husband?”

  Elizabeth chewed her lip; she was trapped. Her own sense of duty meant she could not pay Charlotte the disservice of refusing the invitation. Her father’s opinion she disregarded, not out of disrespect, but because she knew full well that he would merely laugh at the absurdity of Mr Collins’ turn of phrase and await his daughter’s own version of events.