Chapter 40
Chapter Forty
Hunsford
Darcy
“What has you in such a dither?” Colonel Fitzwilliam strode into Darcy’s chamber and dropped into a chair, slinging one leg over its arm with careless ease.
“I have never seen you so eager to flee Rosings. It cannot be our aunt—she is as she ever was. Tell me, have you once more disabused her of the notion that you will marry Anne?” His laugh rang through the room.
“I wonder how our aunt would react if she knew I mean to pursue her daughter.”
Darcy turned sharply. Surprise suffused his expression, and his brows rose. “You and Anne? Can you be happy in such a situation?”
In truth, Darcy did not know his younger cousin well. He had always avoided her on principle, lest he encourage her mother’s designs. Richard, however, had spent more time at Rosings and knew Anne better.
“Happiness is where we seek it.” Richard gave a careless shrug. “Anne is intelligent. Her frailty is nothing but our aunt’s invention—an old fancy that a true lady must be delicate to be genteel.”
Darcy scoffed. “Lady Catherine could never ascribe such delicacy to herself.” He adjusted his cravat before the looking glass, considering his reflection with narrowed eyes.
His aunt, once handsome, had long since grown coarse; the habitual scowl did her no favours.
“If you wish to pursue Anne, I shall not stand in your way.”
“I did not expect you would.” Rising, Richard crossed the carpet to stand behind him.
Their gazes met in the glass. “Now tell me—where are you forever vanishing to? Every afternoon you disappear for hours, only to return grinning like a fool. I would wager our aunt has noticed your strange behaviour. Nothing within fifty miles escapes her notice.” A knowing smirk touched his mouth, and he folded his arms. “Have you fallen for the milkmaid?”
Darcy frowned before a hint of a smile betrayed him.
“I have been calling at the parsonage.” Richard’s head jerked back.
“The parsonage!” He gave a low whistle. “You sly dog. You are courting Mrs Fiennes—under Lady Catherine’s very nose.
Bravo Darcy. Did you keep it from me to protect your prize? You know I must marry a fortune.”
Richard had accompanied him there once, the day after their arrival.
His cousin had been pleased to renew the acquaintance, slight as it was.
He remembered meeting Elizabeth years before and said as much to the lady.
She replied in kind, reminding him about her friendship with the former Lady Westland and his own mother, Lady Matlock.
Apparently, Elizabeth still corresponded occasionally with the latter.
“Mrs Fiennes is worth more than her fortune, Richard. Her husband left her and their daughter well provided for—the least he could do after his treatment of her. You know what sort of man he was—it was you who warned me to be on my guard years ago. It has taken months for Elizabeth to be ready to receive my addresses. I shall court her properly, as she deserves, for she was never courted before her first marriage.”
The colonel’s expression sobered. “Aye, I remember the man—a true snake. I should rejoice at his death, but—”
“I know precisely what you mean.” Darcy’s fingers paused on the fob chain of his watch.
Elizabeth’s letter returned to mind, its restraint concealing what he suspected had likely been far worse.
Could he have punished the dead, he would have done so without hesitation.
“She is strong to have survived his abuse,” he murmured, fastening his waistcoat.
Richard pressed his cousin’s shoulder. “I am truly glad for you both. And if all goes as you hope, perhaps I may soon win Anne myself. I had best begin my wooing without delay.”
“Have a care not to alert our aunt.” Darcy straightened his cuffs with deliberate precision. “You and I will not have long before she discovers all.”
Richard’s laugh rang out, light and careless.
“What a fracas that will raise! I hope to witness the tirade myself when she learns her plans are undone.” He turned towards the door.
“I am off. Anne is strolling in the garden; I believe I shall join her.” He left the room, leaving Darcy to finish his preparations.
Brisby had secured a basket from the kitchens, filled with every delicacy fit for a picnic.
Darcy meant to take Elizabeth to his favourite place that day.
The path thither was little used, but he had no doubt she would relish the challenge.
Satisfied at last with his appearance, he reached for a coat cut loosely enough for him to don without assistance.
His valet would meet him at a side door with the basket for their expedition.
Elizabeth awaited him at the parsonage door, a beaming smile lighting her face. “Elinor has bid me give you her regards,” she said in greeting. “She has also requested to accompany us on the morrow.”
“I should be pleased to have her with us.” Indeed, the thought warmed him; he had grown fond of the little sprite. When he and Elizabeth married, Elinor would be his daughter in truth. He meant to adopt her, to give her his name—if Elizabeth approved.
She slipped her hand through his arm, and they set off down the lane together.
A short distance away from the parsonage, he paused beside a small gap in the hedge and drew the branches aside, revealing a narrow footpath.
“After you, my lady.” He delivered the phrase with regal solemnity, which earned him a delighted laugh.
She stepped through, and he followed. The path beyond lay dim beneath an arch of trees, their branches interlaced so thickly that sunlight scarcely pierced the canopy.
“I had no idea this track existed,” she murmured, glancing about her.
“’Tis a favourite.” Darcy offered his arm once more, and they walked on.
“It leads towards one of Rosings’s groves.
Our destination is a little glen halfway down the path.
Richard and I made the path ourselves during our boyhood rambles, which explains its unevenness.
It is rarely trodden now; we generally ride when we visit. ”
“I am pleased you chose to share it with me. You know my fondness for walking. Tell me, what lies ahead? Is it shaded the entire way?”
“Aye, but our final destination is not.” He adjusted her hand on his arm, guiding her past a tangle of roots. “The glen itself lies open to the sky. I think you will find it most agreeable.”
Their talk meandered easily thereafter. Elizabeth spoke of her inheritance, explaining which ventures she had retained and which she had sold.
“Netherfield Park is Elinor’s,” she continued.
“She holds a share in the remaining assets as well. When she marries, she will be a very wealthy young lady. I have scarcely touched her fortune these many years.”
Darcy inclined his head, impressed. “You have managed it admirably.” Thoughtfully, he added, “It seems you have your affairs well in hand. Mr Wilkens appears to have an excellent head for business.”
“I pay him very well; and what is more, he does not baulk at a woman’s direction.
” She gave him a knowing look. Then she paused in thought and bit her lip, a gesture that never failed to stir him.
She looked vulnerable, but also angelic.
Her voice faltered, and a slight flush touched her cheek as she blurted, “Can we construct the marriage articles so I maintain control of my fortune? ’Tis only…
I never wish to feel insecure, nor to live beneath the shadow of dependence such as I once endured.
The memory of having no certainty—no true security—has stayed with me.
I do trust you, but it will take time to quiet the habit of fear.
” Darcy knew it had cost her much to say it.
“Of course, my love—without question. It is a sound arrangement.” He covered her hand with his own.
“Only promise that you will let me aid you when needed—and that you will advise me in turn with my estate and business affairs. I would not trespass upon your independence, yet I should like to share your cares and ease your burden.”
Her answering smile needed no words; its warmth spoke of gratitude and trust gained. Looking forwards, she gasped softly as the trees opened into a sunlit glen.
Darcy adored this place. A clear brook wound its way through the open ground, murmuring over smooth stones.
Snowdrops, primroses, violets, and cowslips speckled the grass, whilst birds chirped and flitted between the branches, filling the air with the gentle music of nature.
The whole scene was bathed in tranquillity and grace.
“Oh, ’tis perfect.” Her voice came in a soft breath as she released his arm and turned slowly, sweeping the glen with her sparkling eyes.
Darcy chose a flat patch of turf and set down the basket.
From its top he removed a rug and spread it before them.
The fabric was thin but would keep the damp from them.
As his beloved wandered amidst the wildflowers, he arranged their fare with satisfaction.
The assortment pleased him; he would commend Brisby for executing his task with admirable care.
“Thank you for bringing me here.” Elizabeth sank to her knees beside him, smoothing her skirts as she settled.
He handed her a plate in silent acknowledgement, his heart lightened by what he perceived as joy dancing in her eyes.
They ate companionably, laughter rising often between them.
She seemed lighter than he had ever seen her—freed of the care that once shadowed her.
Georgiana had shown the same transformation.
She has truly done all she meant to do, he thought with deep contentment.