Chapter 1 #2
To Elizabeth, Charlotte’s stratagem to spend as little time with her husband as possible reinforced her belief that her friend regretted marrying him.
She decided to ignore that and respond to the rest of what Charlotte had said.
“I know it was the only decision I could have made for my own felicity. Charlotte, I assure you that no matter how much he goes on about the subject, he will not discompose me. I know my own mind. Add to that, I am completely at peace with my decision. I will not allow your husband to upset my equanimity, and he will never be gratified if he expects me to tell him that I regret my refusal of his proposal. I do not, not even for the smallest measure of time.”
Knowing how stubborn her friend could be, Charlotte allowed the subject to end for now. “How is Jane doing? Is she still as sad about Mr Bingley’s defection?”
“Yes, she is!” Elizabeth bit out. “I know what you advised me to tell her to do, but that is not Jane. She does not show her emotions easily, and she will not breach the bounds of propriety as that Miss Bingley does. She knows she cannot speak until the man does first.” Elizabeth paused.
“Did you know she called on Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst a few days after arriving in London? The high-in-the-instep shrew claimed that none of Jane’s letters reached her, and she and her uppity sister pushed Jane out of their house in less than ten minutes.
Then, it took more than a month of Jane waiting for a call for Miss Bingley to call on her.
She claimed that Mr Bingley knew Jane was in London, but he was too busy courting Miss Darcy.
Before she left, her nose high in the air as if there were a bad smell in Aunt Maddie’s drawing room, she made sure Jane knew their connection was at an end.
This is all Mr Darcy’s doing, insufferable man! ”
“Eliza, you are always quick to blame Mr Darcy for all the ills in the world. I believe that the man looked on you with a friendly eye.”
“Taradiddle[2], Charlotte!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “That man looked at me to find fault!”
“Believe that if you will, Eliza, but no man looks at a woman in that way if it is one he feels no attraction to. If any man had looked at me like that, I would have known how to act.” Charlotte did not mention that his professions of love aside, she had no tender feelings for Mr Collins and she was certain he did not truly love her; that is, if he knew what love was.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
William Darcy was very frustrated. How was it that he had not been able to evict Miss Elizabeth Bennet from his head or his heart?
He had been convinced that as soon as there was some distance from her, he would forget her. But that had not occurred. If anything, she filled his idle time and dreams more than when he was in Hertfordshire at Netherfield Park, Bingley’s leased estate.
He had not kept to his first instinct not to go into Hertfordshire because Anna—Darcy’s sister, had asked to be called that when she was twelve.
She had two reasons, Gigi was for a little girl, and Anna was close to their late mother Anne’s name—was still suffering from her narrow escape from that bastard Wickham.
His aunt and the new companion had assured him his sister needed some time without his constant presence.
What a disaster there would have been if he had not decided to go to Ramsgate four days before he had told Mrs Younge he would return…
Darcy stopped that thought. It did not bear thinking what would have happened to his sister, especially when Wickham discovered her dowry was forfeit if she eloped.
He should have had Thompson detain Wickham and turn him over to Richard—a colonel in the Royal Dragoons now—and then the rogue would never bother another. But he had been too busy consoling Anna to stop Wickham when he ran from the house, his tail between his legs.
That thought led him to consider why he had not told Richard about Wickham being in the militia. He knew the answer; the libertine held Anna’s reputation in his hands. If Wickham was left alone, he would remain silent.
Thoughts of Wickham made him remember the dance he shared with Miss Elizabeth at the ball Bingley had held at Netherfield Park on the final Tuesday of November 1811.
When she had spoken of Wickham, should he have told her more?
He had placated his conscience at the time, telling himself that as the Bennets were impecunious and none of the Miss Bennets had dowries, they were safe from the profligate wastrel.
Knowing Wickham’s proclivities, Darcy knew that was not true. However, a Darcy did not expose his private dealings to the world… did he?
His pride would never allow him to form an alliance with Miss Elizabeth Bennet, daughter of a minor country squire whose mother was the daughter of a solicitor, and who had uncles who were in trade, no matter what his heart demanded.
He could never betray his name or heritage in that way. He was a Darcy of Pemberley.
His mind drifted back to a statement he had made while Miss Elizabeth was resident at Netherfield Park, tending Miss Bennet, who was ill.
He had said something to the effect that he abhorred any sort of disguise or prevarication.
It was, after all, one of the core values his late father had taught him.
He could still hear the words: “William, an honourable gentleman, is always honest; he does not hide behind half-truths…”
That was exactly what he had done with Bingley when his friend had asked his opinion of Miss Bennet’s feelings for him.
Darcy was not sure. He suspected she did have feelings for his friend that, unlike Miss Bingley, she kept to propriety insofar as she would not show her feelings until the man spoke.
Instead, he had said he saw no affection in her looks.
That was a half-truth. He also did not say that he had a vested interest in keeping Bingley from Miss Bennet so Darcy would not be tempted by Miss Elizabeth’s siren call.
Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst had gone on about the low status of the family, the vulgar behaviour of the mother, the impropriety of the youngest three girls, and even the father.
None of that had moved Bingley until Darcy intimated Miss Bennet did not return Bingley’s feelings and would accept him for pecuniary reasons.
Darcy had been fully aware that Bingley gave his advice great weight, and as soon as he said what he did, his friend decided he would not return to Hertfordshire.
If that were not bad enough, he was aware Miss Bennet was in London—he had been at Hurst House the day she had come to call—and he had kept that information from Bingley. Not only that, but he had agreed with Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst that Bingley could not be told the truth.
On the one hand, he was using the honour of the Darcy name as a reason he could not offer for Miss Elizabeth, with whom he believed he was in love, while at the same time he was dishonouring his father by doing something he had been adjured not to.
It had been done and done for the best. There was no going back now.
That was what he told himself even while knowing that too was not true.
Darcy pushed thoughts of any Bennets from his head as he concentrated on his sister. Thanks to Mrs Annesley, Anna’s new companion, whose every character she had given had been highly verified, and his Aunt Elaine, Anna was making a very slow recovery.
He knew it was his pride that his judgement was always sound which had led him to employ Mrs Younge, but he did not want to think what that meant.
At least, he and Richard would be leaving London for their annual visit to Rosings Park in the next few days. Richard was now the commander of the Dragoons’ training grounds since his last wound in battle. He could no longer ride and wield his weapons at the same time.
He was prepared for his Aunt Catherine’s continual harping on the need for Darcy to marry his cousin, Anne de Bourgh.
Due to his aunt’s claim that it was something his late mother had wanted as well, and had she lived long enough to agree with her sister, he may have married Anne.
However, Anne de Bourgh was far too sickly and frail.
Darcy was not sure she would survive marital relations, never mind birthing an heir.
Besides, although it was not what he desired, if he never married, Anna’s future son could inherit Pemberley with the proviso that he take the Darcy name.
With Lady Catherine’s harping and his attempts to undo the damage she had done to the estate since last year when he visited, Darcy was confident of one thing: Miss Elizabeth Bennet would be the last thing on his mind.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
Elizabeth had borne her cousin’s constant allusions to all she had lost by not accepting his hand with her equanimity intact—mostly—at dinner, and then in Charlotte’s parlour after the meal the previous day, the day they arrived.
It had been a relief when she retired for the night, even if she and Maria were sharing the room until Sir William departed in a few days.
She had risen with the light of the new morning after their arrival, as was her wont at Longbourn.
Making sure she did not wake Maria, Elizabeth had dressed herself and tied the laces on her trusty half boots.
Even though the sun was not up yet, she took a bonnet and her light shawl.
It was no longer cold thanks to it being spring, but the mornings were still cool.
Elizabeth let herself out of the parsonage’s front door and began to walk towards the groves Charlotte had indicated.
She set off at a blistering pace, the same as she always used when she walked.
With each step she took, Elizabeth felt some of the frustration with her simpleton of a cousin bleed out of her body.
After crossing the drive leading to the mansion, she walked on a path into the grove closest to the parsonage.
Now that the trees were fully leafed again, the branches formed a canopy across the path.
As she walked, she was serenaded by the songs of the finches, robins, and wrens, among others flitting from branch to branch above her. Elizabeth never felt so peaceful as she did when she walked out as she did now.
She had been walking at that steady pace when she reached a place where a few paths converged.
It was a large clearing with a nice tree trunk lying among the wildflowers on one side.
It would make an ideal place to sit and read if she needed to escape the parsonage.
One path seemed to lead in the direction she imagined Rosings Park’s mansion was found; another led to a field of wildflowers.
Elizabeth could identify bluebells, oxeye daisies, yellow rattles, and crocuses from where she stood.
There was a riot of colour which had many bees already flying from one blossom to the other.
It was below a small hill with a folly atop it.
Elizabeth could see it was built to emulate a Greek temple.
Another path led to various fields, and the last path led into a second grove. As she had an adventurous spirit and had a great curiosity, Elizabeth took the path into the second grove. She knew she was walking back towards the parsonage, so she was not concerned about getting lost.
About fifteen minutes from when she began to walk this path, Elizabeth noted a path which was perpendicular to the main one.
Being inquisitive, she followed it. She heard the buzzing and croaking of insects, frogs and toads before she saw the glade with a nice pond in its centre.
There were three stone benches spread around, and other than a clearing around the pond, the area was enclosed by trees.
There were waterlilies floating on the surface of the pond.
Elizabeth saw at least two lily pads with frogs on them.
It was such a peaceful place—a place she decided was even better for seeking solitude than on the tree trunk in the clearing where all the paths crossed.
Yes, to be able to walk among this unspoiled nature, Elizabeth would tolerate her cousin’s inanities.