Chapter Ten
“I appreciate your honesty, Mr. Darcy,” Mr. Williamson said as they finished their negotiations.
Beside Darcy, Miss Bennet had offered less than a half dozen opinions. He wondered if Miss Elizabeth had spoken to his betrothed already. The woman was proving quite useful. Last evening, as he fell to sleep, he wondered if he might convince Miss Elizabeth to come live with her sister and him. She was set to assist her mother, but that would be several years removed. Briefly, he had even considered the possibility of marrying Miss Elizabeth if he lost Miss Bennet in childbirth. Unfortunately, he could not, for marrying the sister of one’s late wife was against the law in England.
“Do you have anything to add, Miss Bennet?” Darcy asked his intended.
“All is agreeable,” she said softly.
Irritated by her mellow response, he summarized for the clergyman, “My cousin must return to London to report to his superiors. I will spend several days there organizing all the necessary paperwork, then fetch my sister, and return at the beginning of next week. The ceremony will occur at ten of the clock on Thursday next.”
“Everything will be as you wish, Mr. Darcy,” Williamson assured.
With that, Darcy stood and reached a hand down to Miss Bennet, who accepted his gesture without the show of revulsion that he half expected.
A few minutes later, as he assisted her into his carriage, he stated, “You were excessively quiet in Mr. Williamson’s office. I pray you have not changed your mind. However, if you feel strongly that you must withdraw, I will step away with as much grace as possible.”
“No, I could not do so, without my family losing honor. Yet, I admit I am quite fearful of disappointing you.”
“I must say,” he attempted to remove the caustic tones from his words, “I can more easily forgive the mistakes you may make than your inaction. My estate requires a mistress who is willing to roll up her sleeves and assist my tenants.”
“I shall follow your lead,” she assured, but Darcy wished to shake her. He did not know what else to do to express his concerns, for he feared if he said anything, she would withdraw further.
Instead, he turned to look at the scenery. “You will find the area about Pemberley not so flat. The mountains in the north of England will make your Oakham Mount feel like an ant hill.”
“You know of Oakham?” Miss Bennet asked. “It is Elizabeth’s favorite place.”
He would not mention his climbing the hill with her sister. “The colonel and I noted it when we walked into the village.” The scene of Miss Elizabeth’s anger remained vividly in Darcy’s mind.
When they returned to the house, they followed the sound of laughter coming from the sitting room. “What have we here?” Darcy asked as they entered.
The colonel looked up with a smile. “Mr. Bennet and I have taken on the Misses Elizabeth and Mary in Shove Ha’Penny.”
“Who is winning?” Darcy asked with a smile as he handed off his hat and gloves to Mrs. Hill.
“Miss Elizabeth and her father, but Miss Mary has claimed another bed for us,” the colonel continued to respond for the group.
Darcy drifted over to watch the game, while Miss Bennet crossed to sit beside her mother.
“Only two more beds,” Darcy counted the chalk marks on the sides of the boards. “You could still win if you can claim the last two beds, Fitzwilliam.”
Mr. Bennet declared, “But Lizzy and I only require one more to claim the victory.” He squeezed his daughter’s hand. “I am counting on you, Lizzy, my girl.”
Darcy smiled upon the woman. He could easily imagine calling her “Lizzy” in the throes of passion, which was not an idea to which he should give credit, for it was truly an impossibility.
Miss Elizabeth teased his cousin. “You are a mere soldier, sir, while I am named after a famous queen.”
“I, too, am named after royalty,” the colonel retorted. “More than one king bears the name ‘Edward,’ while there was only one ‘Elizabeth.’” His cousin played his coins and claimed a bed that still remained open. The score was tied.
“It only took one ‘Elizabeth’ to clean up the mess of nine ‘Edwards,’” the lady said with a smile of confidence. “And Elizabeth reigned for five and forty years and did so alone on the throne.”
In a means to intimidate her, the colonel retorted, “If you place your coin in the same bed as mine,” he warned, “yours does not count.” To Miss Mary, Fitzwilliam said, “Be prepared to call ‘mine’ if such happens so we may claim the bed as our own.”
Miss Mary offered his cousin a playful salute, and Darcy finally noticed a bit of comeliness in the girl’s features he had not observed previously.
“All on your shoulders, Lizzy,” Mr. Bennet whispered, but they had heard him. “Just do not bet on love.”
“I have never bet on love, Papa,” the lady said with complete seriousness. “In truth, I know very little of affection beyond a Shakespeare sonnet or two.”
“Your favorite sonnet, Miss Elizabeth?” Darcy asked, though doing so before an audience had been pure whimsy.
As if the result was scripted, the lady placed her coin on the board. Eyeing the only open bed—the second to the last one on Fitzwilliam’s side, she studied the space, as if she was willing her success.
At length, she released her breath in a steady exhale and with a quick press of the heel of her hand, she sent her ha’penny sliding across the board’s polished surface to land dead center in the only bed still available.
His cousin groaned and covered his eyes with his hands.
Miss Mary declared, “Unbelievable!”
Mr. Bennet exclaimed, “I taught her everything I know!”
Darcy said, “Well done, Miss Elizabeth.”
“Sonnet 29, Mr. Darcy,” she announced, “is my favorite.” As she pranced past him, under her breath, she retorted, “I am confident a man of your intelligence also knows it by heart.”
As the evening progressed, Darcy offered little to the conversation, for his mind was on Shakespeare’s sonnet. “ Why did it resonate with Miss Elizabeth? Did she view her future as hopeless? ” He began to repeat it in his head.
When in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes.
His mind announced, “Though the lady is a gentleman’s daughter, she has no fortune to advance her possible offer of marriage, unless it is one based in affection.”
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries
And look upon myself and curse my fate.
He continued to chastise himself: “Whether I wish to admit it or not, her one entry into society was destroyed by me and my own singularity. She has never been appreciated for her uniqueness.
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope
Featured like him, like him with friends possessed.
Desiring this man’s art and that man’s scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
“Miss Elizabeth has no longer permitted herself a dream of family and friends and children. She would no longer permit herself to hope for a husband, for she simply sought her fate and accepted it.”
Yet, in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth sings hymns at heaven’s gate;
“Such is why she takes solace in climbing Oakham Mount. She climbs the hill to remember her dreams—perhaps parts of which still involve you. What if I had not been too shy to speak to her that evening? Assuredly, neither of us would have been mature enough to claim more than a friendship at the time, but had not my own mother and father written to each other for more than three years before Mr. George Darcy was brave enough to present himself to his ‘darling Lady Anne,’ an earl’s daughter?”
For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
“Those last lines speak to my parents’ marriage, but I fear they will never speak to my and Miss Bennet’s joining.”
“I have chosen the wrong sister,” he murmured.
“Pardon, Darcy,” his cousin said. “Did you say something? You have been quite lost to your thoughts this evening, Cousin.”
Darcy glanced around the room and realized they were alone. He sighed heavily. “I did not even notice the withdrawal of the Bennets,” he admitted.
“They still keep country hours,” Fitzwilliam said as he finished off his wine.
Darcy chuckled. “Generally, so do I.”
“What bothers you?” the colonel asked.
Darcy remained silent for nearly a minute. “Do you recall the ball right after I came out of grieving for my father?”
“Not particularly,” Fitzwilliam admitted.
“The one where Miss Allthorpe was caught with a torn dress in the garden with Mr. Enslow,” Darcy prompted.
The colonel nodded, “The one where our hostess led you to dance with the young lady straight up from the country. We all suspected there was still mud under her nails.”
“Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy said simply.
His cousin looked off to the passageway, as if he expected someone to be there, but no one was in sight. “Impossible,” the colonel declared. “Miss Elizabeth is one of the most interesting women I have ever encountered, and I would place her in the ranks of those of my mother’s caliber.”
“The country pumpkin,” Darcy said with regret. “I never gave her the opportunity to be more than a ‘girl’ in a godawful gown that did nothing for the promise of her figure.”
“Have you apologized to her?” his cousin asked.
“No, I permitted her to rant at my insensitivity instead. She deserved a moment to bring me down more than a few pegs. An apology would never suffice. My obstinacy has not only haunted her—her only ball—her only dance at anything other than a country assembly—and I ruined it all for her. Now, she means to be the one who serves as the surrogate son for her father, the playful aunt to all her nieces and nephews, and nurse to her mother’s supposed ‘illnesses.’”
“It would assuredly be a sin against God to hide the lady’s light in such a manner,” his cousin observed. “If I was in a position to inherit the estate in Oxfordshire soon, I might consider extending my hand to Miss Elizabeth. I know she possesses no dowry of which to speak, but she would be invaluable on an estate. Of course, that is not speaking to her fairness of face or her quick mind. I could assuredly do worse.”
Darcy did not enjoy his cousin’s evaluation, but he had no right to protest. Instead, he said, “We should be on the road early. Will you still be able to stand up with me? The wedding will take place at ten next Thursday.”
“Unless I receive orders elsewhere,” Fitzwilliam declared as he stood and stretched. “You realize both the earl and Aunt Catherine will know great umbrage if they are not invited.”
“I have enough on my mind,” Darcy declared as he also stood. “I want as little fanfare as possible regarding this marriage.”
“And is Miss Bennet equally as satisfied with a simple country wedding? It seems a woman in her position would wish for a London wedding to provide her sisters a leg up in society.”
Darcy’s irritation could no longer be contained. “How would I know what the lady wishes? The future Mrs. Darcy has, as far as I can see, no genuine opinions of her own. I can have an equally stimulating conversation with that vase of flowers yonder.”
A gasp had him spinning around to discover Miss Elizabeth in the open doorway, holding a tray with two shots of what was assuredly brandy in snifters.
“Par . . . pardon, gentlemen.” Her eyes remained on Fitzwilliam. Darcy considered such to be a blessing, for he held no doubt that her hard stare would incinerate him. “Mr. Bennet thought you might wish for brandy.” She continued to stare at the colonel. “I will place the tray here.” She set it on a chair cushion instead of a table, for that was the closest piece of furniture to where she stood. “Good night.” She turned immediately and darted away.
“Demme,” Darcy groaned. “Why did you not warn me?”
“There was no one there when you stood, and then she eventuated as if she was a ghost.”
“I must apologize,” Darcy said as he ran his fingers through his hair.
“You should permit the lady time to calm down. Miss Elizabeth clutched the tray so tightly her knuckles were white.”
Instead of entering the room she currently shared with Mary, she slipped into Lydia’s old room, the one in which Elizabeth had hidden two nights prior when she thought she had come to understand Mr. Darcy better. She strode the length of the room and back. Mrs. Bennet originally had thought to place Mr. Darcy in the room, but it was the smallest of the family bedrooms. Moreover, it had a connecting door to Elizabeth’s quarters, which was “too much of a temptation” in her father’s opinion.
She paused in her pacing. “How shall I ever be rid of the scent of such an odious man from my quarters?” she grumbled and began to stride quickly up and down the room again, while she chronicled aloud every fault she knew of the man.
Over the past few days her defenses had edged lower, but Mr. Darcy’s caustic remark regarding Jane was “beyond the pale.”
“Even so, you cannot tell anyone,” she whispered as she made a slow turn to cross the room again. “Jane is committed to marrying the man: It must be her argument to address, not yours.” Despondent, Elizabeth sat on the floor beside the bed and buried her sorrow and her tears in her skirts. “This is not your quarrel to fight, Elizabeth,” she warned herself. “Like it or not, this must be Jane’s decision. Unless Jane wishes to call off the marriage, which she will not, for she believes herself this family’s savior, nothing may be executed without ruining us all further. Moreover, any sense of believing that someday her marriage will be a pleasant one will disappear if you tell Jane of Mr. Darcy’s disdain for her. You wish her to know some sense of happiness; therefore, you must remain silent. You must take the truth to your grave and bury it there along with your body.”
It was a quarter hour later before Elizabeth heard the colonel’s steady steps along the hall to his quarters, and Mr. Darcy’s entrance into the room adjoining the one in which she hid.
She would be required to wait until he fell asleep before she sneaked into Mary’s quarters, but, unbelievably, the door separating the two rooms opened. Though she could not view him, she knew Mr. Darcy studied the dark room. He held a candle high so its light crept across the rug. “Miss Elizabeth,” he said in hushed tones. “I did not mean to insult your family.”
Elizabeth wished she could remain silent, but such was not part of her nature. She opened her mouth to respond, but he spoke again. “I hold many responsibilities, not only to my estate and my tenants, but to all the communities about Pemberley. I have plans to improve the roads, opening more centers of progress, more services, and see the steady influx of population in the area. We at Pemberley and Lambton require all those opportunities if we are not to be left behind while the rest of England marches forward.
“Though I understand your sister has been taught by Mrs. Bennet not to offer an opinion in opposition to mine, as you well know, I am not infallible.”
Elizabeth did not move and neither did the gentleman. Their thoughts continued to fill the darkness. “I am more than a bit aware of your infallibility, sir,” she said without rising.
“I knew you would be.” A hint of humor marked his tone. “I truly wish your sister and I to know congress, but I require your assistance in my absence in convincing Miss Bennet to take a more active role in planning this marriage. You of all people know I can be an ogre of the first realm if your sister permits me to act thusly.”
“Though I am capable of repeating your apology,” she argued, “it was not I who wounded her. Should not the apology come from your lips?” Elizabeth stood then. “My sister is of such a sweet nature, I am confident she shall forgive all your transgressions. I, on the other hand, owe you nothing of the sort. I shall never forgive your unkind thoughts and words regarding Jane.” She started for the main door of the room. “Now, please pardon me. I must not wake Mary.” With those words, she crossed the room, exited, and then deftly let herself into Mary’s quarters, stopping to turn the key in the lock, just in case the gentleman meant to follow her. Even so, Elizabeth knew she could never lock the man out of the place he had claimed in her heart, and she despised herself for her weakness.