Day 3 #2
“Your sister? You have much to worry over. Nonetheless, your consideration does you credit as a brother. I know of few whose sleep would escape them due to concern for a sibling.”
“I know you would worry for Miss Bennet—erm…Mrs. Collins.”
Tapping her fingers on the rim of the teacup, she looked up at him. “You are correct. Jane and I are more closely connected than to any of our other sisters.” She smiled as he passed her the sugar. “There is not a day that goes by I do not worry for her in…her present situation as a wife.”
He nodded to encourage her to continue.
“Although she is fortunate to have…found a man that is…so well settled, and…values her…attributes as a wife.” She choked down her tea.
“I had discovered,” Darcy began, to fill the awkward silence, “that in my most…recent absence, my own sister who is of age, was married without my knowledge.”
Elizabeth’s eyes grew wide, and she gasped. “That must have been dreadful for you!”
“Yes, it was. And the man is a rogue who can be only after her dowry. And now she is lost to me. His sole motive is to gamble her funds and procure more for his pleasure.”
“What a wretched man!”
“I can only hope that he will receive his due.” Darcy gripped the edge of the table. “It is challenging to know one’s sister married a man unworthy of her.”
“It is. But that is why one must do whatever they can to be the strength for their loved one, whether she is in the position to realize the actions are for her benefit or not.”
A tender smile played across his lips, as Darcy acknowledged to himself, she too knew the loss of a sister to a man undeserving of her, a man who, although much different from Mr. Wickham, was not from the same social or intellectual sphere.
“And so, we wait?” he asked. “Until our siblings need us, and we are there to heal the ache of their tattered hearts?”
“What other choice do we have?” she asked with a sad smile while grazing the rim of the cup with her finger.
Absolutely none.
His previous conversations with Clarence had been less than informative, with the good sir reminding him that he needed to discover “his new world on his own.” No amount of petitioning or remonstrating would sway him in Darcy’s favor.
The unanswered questions still plagued him as he walked into Hunsford village the following morning, having come across Clarence after his visiting a sick farmer.
When the elder man had asked about the previous night’s dinner, Darcy did little to hide his cynicism.
“It was pleasant enough. I had to watch my sister, who does not know me, accept the vilest treatment from Wickham. I observed my once powerful aunt diminished as an invalid, and I viewed my cousin Anne, whose acceptance of Wickham’s behavior astonishes me, act as the Queen herself.
All things considered, dinner was delightful.
” He tried but could not keep the bite from his voice while waiting to make another request of the apothecary.
“And you will still not tell me anything?”
“I have told you all I can, Fitzroy. You must discover this world on your own.”
That was precisely what he did not want to hear; he was actually tired of hearing it. He wanted to know of his uncle, the earl, and his cousin Alfred.
“There is also other information which you seek and are unaware of. All will present itself in due course.”
“Due course?”
“Yes. But remember. This is something you wanted. You asked for. Now, you must accept the consequences of your request.”
“I did not request this!” He stopped and faced Clarence. “This,” he said, indicating himself, “is what I have always been. You took my world away from me!”
The older man looked at him askance as he continued onward, Darcy lagging behind. “You may make claims as you see fit, sir, but you beckoned this. You remember your letter. Take responsibility for what you have done.”
Darcy inhaled and slowly exhaled, his jaw tightening. “I assure you, sir,” he began icily, “I always take responsibility for my actions, unlike someone who is ruining everything I hold dear. If I am to amend these circumstances back to what I wish them to be, I must understand my limitations.”
“We shall see.”
“We shall see?” Darcy asked, his customarily controlled demeanor failing. His hands were clasped firmly behind his back as he strode forward. “We shall see? My sister’s life is in peril, those I love are in misery, and he replies with ‘We shall see.’”
“All you hold dear?”
Darcy spun on him. “Yes! All I hold dear!”
“Even Miss Elizabeth Bennet?”
“What is the meaning of that?”
Clarence shrugged as they both walked, passing a gypsy encampment on the outer edge of Hunsford village.
He fished in his pocket, retrieving a coin, then tossed it to one of the numerous children who had clamored at the gentlemen.
“I only mean that in a different situation, a different life, you might not have had as many pleasant interactions with Miss Bennet as you have had. Is that something you would wish to lose?”
“I do not comprehend your meaning.”
The men passed servants heading toward Rosings and country folk walking toward the village.
Clarence lowered his voice as the area became more populated.
“I am sure you remember her response to your request from less than a week ago?” Darcy stiffened at the reference.
“Can you detect any similar hostility? She seems much more receptive to your company.”
Darcy thought of the previous night in the kitchen and bowed his head, studying the path before him. “Whether she is receptive or not, my life seems lost to me. I must regain it, then win her back.”
“Have you considered that may not be an option? What if you must choose between the two? Either your previous life or Elizabeth?” The older man did not wait for a reply as he walked briskly through the door of the mercantile shop.
Still puzzling out the meaning of his companion’s latest revelation, Darcy followed him.
The room was filled with the ordinary wares one would expect from a village the size of Hunsford: some general goods, along with top hats, women’s gloves, and a few odd bobs and bits.
The humbleness of the room did not match the overall cheer of the establishment, and Darcy found himself quite comfortable.
“Mr. Fitzroy,” Clarence said when they walked toward the counter, “I have calls to make but will come to you again at the parsonage.”
“Our conversation is not yet over, sir.”
“Of course. Good day.” With that, he left the store.
Darcy stood at the front counter, unsure of what to do at the sudden departure of his companion. He only waited a moment until a familiar voice arrested his attention.
“Can I help you, sir?”
Attempting to control his mouth from going slack, he turned at once toward the man at the counter.
“Charles?”
The young man started at the familiarity before an easy grin spread across his countenance. “My name is Charles, but I am afraid I do not know yours, sir.”
Darcy looked into the eyes of one of his oldest friends. “Forgive my boldness. We have not been in company for years. Charles Bingley, correct?”
“Yes. And you are?”
“William Fitzroy.”
“I apologize, but your name is not familiar to me. Did we attend school together?”
“Cambridge?” Darcy questioned.
“Yes, Cambridge,” Bingley said with a distant look but a lopsided grin. “That seems so long ago. If we were acquaintances at Cambridge, you are most likely surprised with my current surroundings.”
“If I remember correctly, you studied business, and your father was in trade.”
“Although my father’s dream of me owning an estate will have to be forgotten and hopefully passed to my son or grandson.
But pay no heed to my ramblings,” Bingley said, pulling out some new items for the display.
“I have only recently come into ownership of this establishment and am still acclimating to working as I did as a young boy. Enough of me. Tell me of you since we left Cambridge. I cannot recall—is your estate nearby? And how do you come to this village?”
Darcy shook his head and the weight of Bingley’s situation. “No, I was on my way home and suffered an injury. The doctor will not allow me to continue my journey immediately. I am to remain in Hunsford for another month complete.”
“And where are you residing?”
“At the parsonage. Miss Eliz…that is Miss Bennet discovered me. The Collinses have been very generous, allowing me to reside there until I am fully recovered.”
“Yes. The Collinses.” There was a pitiful sound in Bingley’s voice, which Darcy immediately recognized as that of the lovelorn Bingley of times past.
“Might you be of assistance to me?” Darcy asked, latching onto an idea.
“I am in need of a gift for the parsonage. I have been a guest now for many days and wish to show my gratitude by giving a small token. Both Mrs. Collins and Miss Bennet, as well as Mr. Collins, have taken great pains to secure my comfort.”
Bingley thought before he reached under the counter. “For Mr. Collins,” he said. “This was put into a shipment of books I received this past week. It is from an old clergyman in the colonies, a Jonathan Edwards. Its title is Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God.”
Darcy grinned as he took the outstretched book. “I am familiar with it and believe it fits Mr. Collins perfectly. Now, if only there was something for the ladies of the house.”
Bingley’s eyes lit up. “A gift for the parson’s wife?
I am sure I have something here that would mirror her…
kindness. Mrs. Collins is a treasure,” he whispered, walking toward a wall behind a sea of books and pulling down a trunk.
“For both Mrs. Collins and Miss Bennet, this might suit them quite well.” He lay the trunk on the counter and pulled back the lid, drawing out two handkerchiefs edged with exquisite Belgium lace, ribbons, and embroidery.
One a buttercream yellow and the other a pale pink.