Chapter 3
As they had planned to, Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam departed from Darcy House at first light on Friday.
For the first hour, the cousins sat in silence, each one deep in thought as they enjoyed the smooth ride of the well sprung Darcy travelling coach.
As much as he did not want them to be thusly engaged, Darcy’s thoughts were of the most handsome woman of his acquaintance.
He was fascinated by her mind, by her playful character, and the witty way she had bantered with him at Netherfield Park without ever fawning over him as Miss Bingley was wont to do.
The latter lady’s name caused Darcy to remember how, once he was the master of Pemberley and all Darcy properties, he had begun to tolerate the presence of Miss Bingley for the sake of his friendship with Bingley.
He had reconciled himself with the fact that an invitation to Bingley was interpreted as one to the Hursts and Miss Bingley as well.
She had set her cap for him the first time she met him; however, if she were the last possible woman in the world, Darcy would not offer for the harridan.
The first time she had spent the night at Pemberley, Darcy had had the foresight of having Carstens, his valet, sleep on a cot in front of the door from the hallway into his chambers.
Both of them had woken well after midnight to the sounds of the door handle being rattled.
As the door was securely locked, the person—Darcy strongly suspected it was Miss Bingley—eventually left.
The next day Darcy sat in his study with Bingley.
He told his friend to pass on to Miss Bingley in no uncertain terms that he would never offer for her, and he would not gratify a compromise.
He also told his friend that if his sister attempted to entrap him, and then thought she would get what she wanted by spreading rumours in society, he would be unscathed and she would be ruined.
If Bingley had actually conveyed the message, Darcy was unsure, but he doubted Bingley had as he hated conflict. Thoughts of Bingley brought his feelings of shame to the forefront once again. He was snapped out of his wool-gathering by his cousin.
“William, what ails Bingley?” Fitzwilliam asked.
“As far as I know, Bingley is well,” Darcy obfuscated. “To what do you refer?” He knew very well what caused Bingley’s melancholy, and he felt guilt for his part in it. However, not guilty enough to tell his friend the truth.
“Since his return from Hertfordshire, Bingley has looked like a puppy who was kicked by his master. You were there with him. Is it to do with one of his angels?”
Knowing that Richard had an uncanny ability to draw things out of him he wanted to keep to himself, Darcy decided to relate a condensed version of what had occurred.
“I needed to rescue him from the clutches of one who had a very objectionable family. She would have accepted him for his fortune, regardless of not having tender feelings for him.” Darcy knew he was being dishonest again.
He did not want to admit to his mistakes, not even to Richard.
“You must have known this woman very well to divine her feelings and motivations,” Fitzwilliam drawled. His cousin was far too arrogant at times.
“Bingley held a ball before we all left Netherfield Park, the estate he leased in Hertfordshire,” Darcy explained.
“That night the woman’s younger sisters, who should not be out of the school room, behaved atrociously.
The vulgar mother was telling anyone near her, without lowering her voice mind you, how her daughter would soon be engaged to Bingley and then the daughter would be able to throw her sisters, of which there are many, in the paths of rich men.
It was untenable. Miss Bingley, Mrs Hurst, and I convinced him to give up the lease and not to return. ”
Colonel Fitzwilliam could see how the subject discomposed William.
He decided he would perhaps address it again when his cousin was calm.
That meant not at Rosings Park while their aunt harped on about the supposed engagement between William and Anne.
Being around their aunt blackened William’s mood greatly.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
Friday afternoon was one of the days that Elizabeth needed to escape the parsonage. Her cousin was in rare form. She was already inured to all his not-so-subtle hints about how she had erred in refusing him. What had spoilt her mood that day was the news Mr Collins brought from Rosings Park.
Lady Catherine had told Mr Collins that there would be fewer invitations to her home.
That was not what disturbed Elizabeth; in fact, not being in the uneducated, pompous termagant’s presence was a boon.
It was the reason for the upcoming lack of invites.
Two of her Ladyship’s nephews were coming to visit her for a fortnight.
One of them was a Colonel Fitzwilliam; he was not the issue.
It was the other nephew whose presence she objected to!
He was none other than the proud, arrogant, insufferable Mr Darcy of Pemberley!
What a bad turn of luck that brought that man into Kent while she was present! At least, she supposed, that other than at church, they would not see one another thanks to the fact that Lady Catherine would no longer invite those from the parsonage to her home.
Had Elizabeth been aware of Mr Darcy’s coming before Sir William’s departure earlier that morning, she would have begged for him to take her back to Longbourn.
She caught herself. What kind of friend would she be to Charlotte to turn tail and run because of that man?
Also, did she not tell people that her courage always rose when someone attempted to intimidate her?
She would not leave! If Mr Darcy did not enjoy her company, he was the one who needed to go.
At that moment, she remembered very similar words from Mr Wickham.
She could hear his words as if he was standing next to her now.
“Oh no! It is not for me to be driven away by Mr. Darcy. If he wishes to avoid seeing me, he must go.” A question entered her mind unbidden.
If that was what Mr Wickham said, why did he avoid Mr Darcy and keep away from the ball?
Delving into that question would lead to others she did not want to consider because they may indicate that her ability to sketch characters was not as infallible as she wanted to believe.
Elizabeth pushed the subject from her consciousness.
“Charlotte, I am going for a walk,” Elizabeth told her friend.
“Enjoy your second ramble of the day, Eliza,” Charlotte said.
“You know me, Charlotte, I can never walk too much. I am greatly enamoured with the groves hereabouts,” Elizabeth replied.
When she exited the house Elizabeth found her cousin standing in his garden staring at the lane beyond the parsonage. “Cousin Elizabeth, how can you leave when such august personages are about to arrive at Rosings Park?” Collins demanded.
“Mr Collins whether I am taking some exercise or seated within the house will not change when the gentlemen arrive. I bid you farewell.” With that Elizabeth was off, not caring for what the next inanity out of her cousin’s mouth would be.
She took off at speed, as she always did, and reached the drive which wended its way to the mansion just as a coach passed her.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
Darcy had been thinking about Miss Elizabeth Bennet—her light and pleasing figure, her extremely fine emerald-green eyes, and her raven-coloured tresses when, as if summoned by his thoughts, there she stood next to the drive. Was he imagining things?
“Who is that pretty lady there,” Fitzwilliam cocked his head to the woman they were passing.
She was real, Richard saw her too! “I think she is someone I met in Hertfordshire.” Suddenly Darcy’s mouth went dry, and he felt sickness in the pit of his stomach.
Had Caroline Bingley not said that Miss Elizabeth was to marry Aunt Catherine’s idiot parson, the one who had introduced himself at the ball?
She was too good for that blithering fool!
Just like Miss Bennet would have been made to accept Bingley, Miss Elizabeth would not have been permitted to refuse the man who was to inherit her father’s estate.
Thinking of Miss Elizabeth—no, surely, she was Mrs Collins now—married to that dunderheaded man caused Darcy to want to cast up his accounts. He had to fight to control that urge.
“I say, William, you look rather pallid. Are you well?” Fitzwilliam queried.
“All is fine,” Darcy said sharply. Nothing was good. How could he face her if she were married to another? First, he would glean information from his aunt, after all, she liked to be of use.
They could not reach the manor house fast enough.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
Elizabeth knew it was impolite to stare but stare she did as the coach passed her, and she saw Mr ‘Insufferable’ Darcy looking back at her through the window.
She did not miss the moue of distaste on his face as soon as he noticed her. ‘He more than likely thinks it is not tolerable that one of my low consequence pollutes his aunt’s land,’ she thought.
As long as she kept away from the manor house, Elizabeth was certain she would be able to avoid Mr Darcy.
What bad fortune for him to have seen her already.
There was a silver lining, however. Now that the rude, proud man had noted her presence, she was certain he would keep his distance from the parsonage and the area around it.
She would add not seeing Mr Darcy again to her prayers this very night.
Being in nature soon relaxed Elizabeth, and she forgot about the insufferable man as she skipped her way along one of the paths in the grove she had entered.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
“You are late,” Lady Catherine pronounced when her nephews entered the drawing room.