by Kate Barton
What other recourse did Anne have? As Elizabeth contemplated the complexities of the situation, she was dismayed to see that she was not alone. A solitary figure was in the distance.
Heavens, no. It was Mr Darcy – again! Why did she always have to run into him when she was on walks? It was almost as if he knew that she was out alone and decided that he would pursue her. Although that thought was of course fanciful. What motivation could he possibly have to do such a thing?
She sighed. He had spotted her, of course. She slowly walked through the flowers towards him.
“Miss Bennet.” He bowed, unsmiling.
“Mr Darcy.” Elizabeth curtsied. It seemed such a silly thing to be doing in this beautiful space, out in nature. But formalities must still be observed. She would much rather turn on her heels and march back to the parsonage.
“The weather is becoming warmer,” he remarked, staring up at the sky. “Summer is almost here, I believe.”
“Indeed,” answered Elizabeth. “You must be anticipating the season with alacrity, Mr Darcy.”
He raised an eyebrow at her. “And why would that be, Miss Bennet?”
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow in turn. “I would have thought that obvious, Mr Darcy,” she replied. “Your wedding, of course! The social event of the season, and the end to your bachelorhood.” She paused. “How could you not have thought of it?”
Mr Darcy hesitated. “I am, of course, desirous to do my duty,” he said, stiffly. “This marriage has been anticipated for a long time, Miss Bennet.”
“Yes, so I have heard,” Elizabeth said. “Many times! And of course, you are such a man that you will do whatever you can for propriety’s sake.” She gazed at him. “And what of your bride-to-be, Mr Darcy? Have you bothered to ask how she feels, or is she merely a pawn in the whole game?”
Mr Darcy reddened. “My cousin knows what is expected of her, just as I do.”
Elizabeth smiled. “But have you asked her?”
He glanced over the field. “I have not. It is not a necessary condition of the engagement. Marriages are arranged between people of equal rank all the time.” He would not meet her eye.
Elizabeth suddenly tired of the whole thing. The man was impossible!
“And what of my sister, Jane, and Mr Bingley?” she rushed on. A little voice inside her head told her that she shouldn’t, but she ignored it. “To deliberately separate them when they were so well matched! It was an abominable thing to do. My sister is heartbroken, as I have no doubt Mr Bingley is as well.” She felt her heart thumping uncomfortably in her chest.
Mr Darcy stood up straighter. “I stand by the decision I made. I observed your sister carefully. I did not discern any great regard for him in her countenance.”
“My sister is reserved, Mr Darcy!” Elizabeth glared at him. “How could you possibly know anything of what she really feels, what is in her heart? You assumed you knew and have caused great pain to two people in the process.”
“Such a union could never proceed,” he said. “There is a great difference in standing between them. There is a natural order of things, Miss Bennet.”
Elizabeth curled her lip. “It was not your decision to make,” she hissed. “You really are the most pompous man! It might matter to you to make an advantageous marriage based on status rather than affection, but it is not the same for everyone.” She could feel herself trembling. “Good day, Mr Darcy.” She turned on her heel and marched back through the field of daffodils.
“Miss Bennet!” He called to her, but she refused to turn around.
Her chest was rising and falling rapidly as she walked. Why did he do this to her every time? She had never met a person who roused her to such heights of fury. Her face burned as she remembered his words about the difference in status between Jane and Mr Bingley. She knew of course why he held such an opinion. He had made a judgment about her family and refused to budge from it.
Yes, she knew that her mother often prattled and did not think before she spoke. She knew that her father tolerated more than he should with his wife, and his daughters. There were faults in Lydia, Kitty and Mary that had never been addressed; in fact, they had been encouraged. She thought of Lydia and Kitty’s obsession with the soldiers at Meryton, and Mary’s intractability. But Jane should not have to suffer for that. Jane was the epitome of graciousness and charm. She would have suited Mr Bingley; further, she would have made him a model wife.
And now, there was Anne de Bourgh and Colonel Fitzwilliam. Mr Darcy was blind to the affection between them; he had not even bothered to enquire of Anne how she felt about the impending nuptials. She didn’t even exist as a person in his mind. She was merely a means to an end.
Elizabeth found herself back at the parsonage gates with no clear memory of her walk. He hadn’t followed her, had he? She glanced fearfully over her shoulder, then breathed a sigh of relief. No, he was nowhere to be seen. She glanced around her. Sir Lucas and Maria were sitting in the garden alongside Charlotte; they all turned and hailed her. She waved her hand at them, but stood for a moment composing herself before she joined them. Mr Collins was nowhere to be seen, thank the Lord.
She looked down at her hands. They were still trembling. She had to gain control; it would not do for the others to notice her distress and question her about it. She knew that she was already distressing them; even Charlotte thought her too forthright in her opinions. Mr Collins had nearly had an apoplexy last night when she had to be summoned back to the dining table at Rosings, after attending Anne de Bourgh in her room.
Lady Catherine, with the keen scent of a bloodhound, knew that she was stirring up trouble, and was eager to put a stop to it. She might not know what she was stopping, but she understood that Elizabeth was undermining her in some way.
If only her aunt and uncle Gardiner would come, she thought despairingly. Jane was returned to Longbourn, and her aunt and uncle had written to ask if she would like to accompany them on a short summer tour of the Lake District. She had accepted with alacrity. As much as she wanted to help Miss de Bourgh and the Colonel, she was starting to feel oppressed. What could she really hope to accomplish?
The sooner that she left Rosings – and the sooner that she was away from Mr Darcy – the better.
Chapter Eight
Mr Darcy marched back over the hill. He had stood watching Miss Bennet walk away until she was a small dot in the distance. His fists had clenched in anger, and he had to swallow the urge to pursue her. To stop her, and explain again why he had made the decisions that he had made.
As he walked, he asked himself for the hundredth time why it mattered so much what she thought of him. Why he felt the need to justify himself to her. And why he always felt so drawn to her, against his will.
He could see Rosings in the distance. His aunt’s stately home that he had been visiting since he was a child. He had always drawn comfort from its stately halls; it wasn’t home, as Pemberley was, but it still held vestiges of the past. He remembered his parents walking these very hills.
It was his mother, along with Lady Catherine, who had desired the union between him and his cousin. He had not questioned it; it was right and proper that they should think it the best outcome. He had always done his duty, as he saw fit. But now, he wasn’t sure of anything. He had been drawn to Miss Bennet when he had first encountered her in Hertfordshire. Oh, at first, he had been disdainful, but as he became better acquainted with her, he realised that she was superior in almost every way to any other woman that he had ever known.
But he knew that there could never be anything between them. He was destined for marriage to Anne de Bourgh, and even if that wasn’t the case, Miss Bennet’s connections were wanting. There was no way that he could see past that.
Or could he? Shaking his head, he reiterated to himself all the reasons why it was not possible. The engagement had been announced; a wedding date had been set. He had been shocked when his aunt had proclaimed it last night…he thought that he had more ti
me. Time for what? He simply did not know.
He was almost back to Rosings, now. He must put Miss Bennet out of his head, entirely. He had done the right thing, to make Charles Bingley see how impossible his affection for Jane Bennet was. Elizabeth Bennet was angry about it, but he didn’t have to justify himself to her. Or to anyone.
He could see Colonel Fitzwilliam in the distance, walking the grounds. He seemed distracted; he was walking with his head bent, frowning. The Colonel hadn’t been himself the whole time he had been at Rosings, now that he thought about it. Perhaps he should suggest that they take a ride out.
Mr Darcy approached him, calling out a greeting to let him know he was not alone. The Colonel raised his head, smiling slightly, and stood waiting until Mr Darcy was upon him.
“Darcy.” The Colonel smiled again, but he still seemed distracted. “You have been out walking so early?”
Mr Darcy nodded. “It is such a good morning,” he said. “I wondered further than I was intending.” Had he wondered further, in the hope of running into Elizabeth Bennet? He knew that she liked to walk. He dismissed that thought from his head.
“The weather has certainly become warmer,” the Colonel agreed.
“I encountered Miss Bennet on my walk,” Mr Darcy continued, then wondered why he had disclosed such a thing. He could still see her, marching angrily back toward the parsonage after their encounter.
“Miss Bennet is charming,” said the Colonel. “I wander that you did not mention that you knew her previously, Darcy.”
Mr Darcy opened his mouth to reply, then shut it again quickly. What could he say? That he had met the most wonderful woman, but that she and her family were entirely unsuitable?
“She is charming,” he agreed, cautiously. Whatever his feelings were towards Miss Bennet – and he did not fully know what they were – it would be unwise to hint at them. He was engaged to Anne, after all.
“What do you think,” said Mr Darcy, “about taking the stallions out for a ride, stretch their legs?”
The Colonel brightened. “I think it would be a wonderful way to take advantage of this fine weather.” He paused. “Shall we head over toward the village, through the woods?”
Mr Darcy nodded. “Perfect.”
They walked together to the stables, and before too long, they were riding through the woods. Mr Darcy led the way, but the Colonel kept up. They cleared the woods, then stopped on the hill before they were in the village, dismounting to look at the view.
Mr Darcy gazed into the distance. It was a small village, nestled snugly in a valley. On some mornings, you could see a cloud of mist hovering over it, with the church steeple peeking through it. Today, however, the sky was such a pure blue that you could see for miles in all directions.
“Do you remember when we all rode here, looking at this view?” The Colonel had a faraway look on his face as he looked to the distance.
Mr Darcy turned to him. “All? Who are you referring to?”
“You, Anne and I,” he said. “Before our aunt decided that Anne was incapable of riding any long distances.” His voice had a thread of hostility in it, which puzzled Mr Darcy.
“Our aunt decreed that Anne shouldn’t ride,” Mr Darcy answered, “because Anne was always so taxed afterwards. It was for her own good.”
“Was it?” The Colonel turned to Mr Darcy. “Or was it the first act in a careful strategy of turning her into an invalid? Anne always enjoyed those rides, she told me so. She was very upset when she wasn’t able to participate anymore.”
“I never knew,” admitted Mr Darcy, frowning. “I always assumed that she was relieved.”
“Yes, well, you would, wouldn’t you?” The Colonel turned his gaze back to the village. “Because you never took the time to ask her. No one takes the time to talk to Anne – that has been discouraged, also.”
Mr Darcy’s frown deepened. The Colonel’s passion on the subject surprised him. He had always assumed that he was in agreement about how Anne’s delicate constitution was managed by their aunt. Where had this come from?
“I am sure that our aunt did what she thought was best,” he replied, eventually.
The Colonel continued watching the village. “Sometimes, Darcy,” he said, “you are too single minded. You do not see what is in front of your face. You see only what you choose to see, or what has been presented to you.”
Mr Darcy turned to the Colonel. “If Anne has been handled the wrong way, then I am sorry,” he said, stiffly. “I still do not see how my views on it would affect how our aunt has acted. She is a strong-willed woman. She will always do as she must.”
The Colonel did not answer. Mr Darcy continued to stare at him. There was something else, something that the Colonel was not saying. It hovered in the air between them, just like the dragon fly he had just seen in the morning air. He was unsure how to continue. He and the Colonel had never had a relationship where they talked to each other of personal feelings; what had been just said was probably the most intimate conversation that they had ever had.
“May I ask you something?” The Colonel turned to Mr Darcy. “Was it Miss Bennet’s sister you were referring to when you said you recently separated Charles Bingley from an unsuitable entanglement?”
Mr Darcy reddened. “It was,” he conceded. “While Miss Bennet and her sister present well, their family is another story entirely. If you met them, you would understand. Bingley could not see it, but it was very plain to me.” He straightened, holding his head high. “I would make the same decision, again, if I had to.”
“Do you believe,” the Colonel continued, “that someone should be judged by their family? Even if they themselves are the epitome of good taste, judgment, and grace? It would seem to me harsh to judge so, Darcy.”
“A man must act according to the rules of conduct that govern his station,” Mr Darcy declared, loftily. “To lower one’s standards would be intolerable. I would think you would know that, Colonel.”
The Colonel sighed, deeply. “Of course,” he said, stiffly. “Let us not speak of it again. Shall we ride into the village, or shall we head back?”
Mr Darcy considered. On the one hand, he had no particular inclination to go into the village, but neither did he feel like returning to Rosings, either. The argument with Miss Bennet still hung like a cloud over his head, and now the Colonel seemed to be questioning his judgment, also.
“Let us just ride where it takes us,” he said. The Colonel nodded. They mounted their horses and headed back through the woods.
As they spurred their horses to greater speed, Mr Darcy reflected again on how he had handled the situation between Bingley and Jane Bennet. Did the elder Miss Bennet have a deeper affection for his friend that he had surmised? And could her unfortunate family background be overlooked, for the sake of love?
If so, then everything that he based his life upon meant nothing. And he must look at Elizabeth Bennet with fresh eyes, also.
Chapter Nine
“Anne! Do not fidget so!” Lady Catherine fanned herself vigorously.
Anne de Bourgh was standing on the dressmaker’s stool. To Elizabeth’s eyes, it looked like she was about to keel over. There were three dressmakers hovering around her. One was pinning the hemline on the gown. Another was adjusting the sleeves. The third was adjusting the neckline. To Elizabeth, they looked like flies that refused to be swotted away.
They had been in this room all morning. A carriage, no less, had arrived at the parsonage requesting she and Charlotte to come to Rosings. Immediately. Their plans to walk into the village had to be shelved. Maria Lucas had pouted considerably at not being included in the invitation, but Mr Collins had crowed about it all through breakfast.
“To have sent the carriage for you both!” he declared reverently. “Her Ladyship has never done so before. You are both honoured to be included in whatever is happening today at Rosings.”
“Of course, husband,” Charlotte had replied calmly. “Elizabeth and I are very min
dful of the honour.”
As soon as they had got to Rosings, they had been ushered into this room. The dressmakers awaited, pins and measuring tapes in hand. And then Lady Catherine had swept into the room with Anne trailing her.
“Mrs Collins,” she said, “Miss Bennet. Today, you are both to attend my daughter while her wedding dress is being fitted.”
Elizabeth had plastered a smile onto her face, not allowing her thoughts to cloud her face. How perfectly tedious. Cooped up in a room all morning – or all day, she had no idea – with Lady Catherine. She thought longingly of the walk that they had planned. It was another beautiful day without a cloud in the sky. It was such a waste.