Chapter 2
Darcy was pacing inside his bedchamber.
His patience with his aunt Lady Catherine de Bourg was wearing thin and he felt he had to leave the place or go mad.
Yet the difficulty of quitting Kent lay in an undeniable and exquisitely painful consideration: that in leaving the neighbourhood he must also leave behind Miss Elizabeth Bennet, together with every hope of soon claiming her as his own.
After all the exertion he had employed to banish her from his thoughts, and to persuade himself that she was in no respect a suitable candidate for the honour of becoming Mrs Darcy, he now found himself, most unwillingly, on the very brink of offering her his hand in marriage.
Since the autumn he had battled, often in vain, against the strong inclination that had taken root within his heart; yet he could struggle no longer.
He was now persuaded beyond any reasonable doubt that should he attempt to walk away from her, his life would be condemned to a perpetual disquiet, forever measuring every lady of his acquaintance against her.
She had quite effortlessly revealed to him the very picture of an ideal woman, and he knew he could search the whole of the kingdom without discovering a single lady who might, in the least, compare.
It was folly to even attempt to replace her with the insipid beauties that populated most drawing rooms in London. In fact the richer the women the more aggravating they were, for they were entitled but rarely intelligent, let alone witty.
His mind was quite made up. That very evening when she accompanied the Collinses to dine at Rosings he would contrive, by some means or other, to draw her aside and present her with a proposal of marriage.
He entertained scarcely a doubt of her acceptance; for what lady, he reasoned, would willingly refuse the numerous advantages attendant upon becoming his wife?
Indeed he considered himself something of a prize coveted by many.
He chuckled to himself.
Indeed she must be praying and hoping for his addresses; as an intelligent woman she would know that her chances of ever making such a match only happened once in a life time.
Yes, she was perfect for him and he for her. They would be very happy together.
She might struggle a little with the Bon Ton at the beginning of their marriage, but she was intelligent enough to tackle any challenge and he had full confidence in her abilities.
He smiled to himself feeling quite smug and trying to anticipate what would come after the proposal. Would she allow him to kiss her? He ardently hoped so.
Then he sobered quickly remembering her family.
They were always going to be a source of embarrassment and vexation, while his own family might oppose her, not only because of her low birth and lack of fortune but especially because of the vulgar and unchecked behaviour of her parents and sisters.
But he was confident that once they got to know his Elizabeth she would not fail to charm them all, despite her unfortunate connections.
Well, perhaps not all.
He doubted Lady Catherine would ever forgive him for the heinous crime of marrying someone other than her daughter. And he was certain that she would let Elizabeth know of her disapprobation in no uncertain terms.
However, he would defend her with all his might, for marry her he most certainly would.
Nobody would be allowed to interfere with his beloved.
His family's unhappiness could not be helped and sooner or later his aunt and the rest of them would have to accept reality and his choice or be severed from his company.
He felt much better now, once the resolution was finally made. He felt peace warm his heart and he could now finally indulge in fantasising about Elizabeth. She was a seductress without even making the effort.
He smiled and allowed his thoughts free rein.
***
Darcy’s peace did not last very long for his cousin Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam slammed open the bedchamber door without knocking, intruding on his favourite fantasy of himself and Elizabeth in his bed at Pemberley.
“What in Hades are you doing? What do you mean by invading my space, as if you were Napoleon in Spain, Richard?”
Immediately he realised that Richard was very angry. Just as angry as when they had discovered Georgiana in Ramsgate about to elope with Wickham.
Darcy sat up straight and asked, concerned, “What has happened? Have you received a letter from your parents? Is Georgiana well?”
“No, I have not received a letter from London. As far as I know they are all well.” Richard tried to breathe in and out slowly to control his rage.
“What has caused this ire then?”
“How do you know I am angry?”
“Oh please… are you under the assumption that I do not know you well enough to be able to tell when you are as mad as hell?”
“Yes, I am mad. In fact I am fuming.”
“Yes, I can see that.” Darcy chuckled despite his sympathy for his cousin, “Is it Lady Catherine? She can certainly upset anybody’s composure.”
“No, it is not our dear aunt this time, miraculously. If you really want to know, I will tell you. But you will not like it.”
“Let me be the judge of that. Tell me and I will decide whether I like it or not.”
“Very well then, it is Miss Bennet!” Richard spat out the name like a swear word.
“What?” Darcy looked at him stupefied, “Why would Miss Bennet make you angry?”
“Why do you think? Wickham, of course!” Richard said emphatically.
Darcy blanched. “What has Miss Bennet to do with Wickham? Is it Miss Bennet or Wickham who currently makes you angry?
“Both.”
“You are not making any sense Richard, could you start from the beginning please?”
Richard took a deep breath, walked to the bedside table where there was a decanter of brandy and helped himself to a generous serving.
He sat down, slowly using a breathing exercise technique he had learned in battle to calm himself, then he related the meeting he had had with Elizabeth on his tour of the park earlier on that day.
Darcy listened paralysed in his chair and when Richard finished his tale he stood up abruptly and walked to the window. For a long time neither said a word.
Eventually Darcy turned slowly to his cousin and glaring at him he hissed, “How could you Richard?”
Richard looked annoyed, “I did not know it was her sister, how could I?”
“You are the worst gossip… I mean… you are… blast man! You are worse than an old hag. How could you relate to Miss Bennet what I shared with you in confidence?”
Richard just looked at his cousin silently, feeling properly chastised.
“She hates me?” Darcy said with a strangled voice.
“I am the most odious man she has ever known? She cannot bear to look at me?” He shook his head in confusion and anger, “and now she wants to leave immediately.” Darcy glared harder at his cousin, “How could you Richard?” He repeated feeling betrayed while despair took hold of his whole being.
“Well do not imagine for a moment that I am solely responsible for her dislike of you. She began detesting you ages ago, long before she heard how you meddled with the affections of Bingley and her sister.” Richard glared back angrily, “And let us not forget dear old George; he has naturally been busy spreading his honeyed but toxic nonsense. Thanks to him and his charming lies she now believes he floats somewhere just beneath the angels, while you my dear fellow are consigned to and firmly lodged at the bottom, at the very depths, ranked among the most objectionable demons of the infernal regions, likely quartered with misers and wholly unrepentant card-cheats.”
Darcy looked at his cousin as if he had grown horns all of a sudden, “What? She likes Wickham? Bloody hell! This gets worse and worse. How am I supposed to fix this mess now?” Darcy raked his fingers through his hair in desperation. “What else did she say Richard?”
“What do you mean? Do you need more? I should think the matter perfectly clear,” Richard declared, raising his voice, “She hates you. Quite thoroughly I might add. I will wager she would rather swallow a thimbleful of Cousin Anne’s disgusting health tonic than set eyes on you ever again.”
Darcy stood there with the expression of a man on his way to the gallows: pale, stricken, and altogether desperate, as though the hangman were already adjusting the noose.
“I love her.” He blurted out at length.
“You what?”
“You heard me. I want to marry her.”
“Darcy, are you out of your senses? I know she is beautiful, but marriage? I mean, you could find in one miserable ballroom in London a dozen women more eligible than Miss Bennet to become the mistress of Pemberley. I myself can introduce you to any number of beautiful women… way more enticing… and richer than that harpy, at any time of your choosing.”
“Do not call her that, she is not a harpy.”
Richard raised his eyebrows, “You have not seen her angry. She was screaming like a fishwife… definitely a harpy.”
Darcy shook his head in denial and astonishment, “I doubt that very much.”
Richard blinked rapidly as he normally did when he was lying, “do you doubt me? Just go and speak to her yourself and do not forget to mention her sister, or even better, mention dear Wickham and his debauched life style then watch the fireworks go off.”
Darcy sat down, rested his elbows on his knees and grabbed his head with his hands. Richard sat next to him, “Darcy, let us return to town. Let us get drunk and visit Madame O’Kelly’s brothel. Let us forget Miss Bennet, our aunt, insipid cousin Anne and this whole damned waste of a place.”
“I cannot, Richard, and since when do I visit brothels anyway? And right now all I want is Elizabeth.”
Richard got up abruptly and looked at his cousin angrily all over again, “Darcy, what the hell… are you a glutton for punishment? If you insist on being this ridiculous I will tie you to the bed until she leaves the neighbourhood.”