Chapter Twenty-Three
Darcy studied Elizabeth askance, worried she relived the attack and resenting the stack of books that kept him from offering his arm to her. If it wouldn’t seem mad, he’d toss the books into the snow. Odds were, he could replace them if they were ruined.
He’d come out that morning with a mission.
He was done waiting. If he proposed and Elizabeth thought her newfound wealth factored into his offer, he’d simply have to set the matter straight.
He needed to offer before Lady Catherine began introducing Elizabeth to the community.
Before some other gentleman swooped her up.
He needed Elizabeth to know his feelings for her. He needed…her.
As they walked, the wind gusted down the lane from behind them, as if hurrying them to Rosings. Snow thudded from the laden branches to either side of the path in a spatter of sound, but Darcy could still hear the footfalls of the maid some distance behind them.
Elizabeth looked down at the heavy frame she held and sighed. “It doesn’t seem right to take Mr. Collins’ money, or his possessions. Even these few. I know I haven’t done anything to deserve them.”
Darcy reoriented his thoughts. Elizabeth’s brooding pertained to her inheritance, not Mrs. Clegg’s attack. “Perhaps not.”
She cast him a sharp look. “But you said that I should accept what he left me. That even if Mr. Collins made a mistake, I had a right to inherit.”
“I did, yes, based on what he wished and on who would inherit if you did not, which it turns out would be my aunt as his secondary beneficiary.” Lady Catherine certainly had no need for Mr. Collins’ possessions or funds.
“And I agreed with you. I still do.” Elizabeth shrugged. “I don’t understand why I feel so guilty.”
Darcy contemplated that. He had an idea, but should he delve into it? Was it his place?
“What do you think I should do?” Elizabeth asked plaintively. “I’m at a loss as to how to mitigate my guilt without being unreasonable.”
“Meaning that renouncing your inheritance to my aunt would be unreasonable.”
“And ungrateful. She’s gone to considerable trouble and expense to ensure I am able to claim this inheritance without the interference of my family.”
Her family. Perhaps that was the root of Elizabeth’s guilt? “When we previously discussed Mr. Collins’ wishes, we examined who stood to inherit if you did not. We did not examine who would have Mr. Collins’ funds if he had survived the fire.”
Elizabeth smiled slightly. “Mr. Collins would, if he survived my mother’s wrath after destroying her home.”
“It’s not her wrath to which I refer, but rather her need for reparations.”
Elizabeth cast him a quick, understanding look before she became thoughtful. “You’re correct. She would have wanted him to pay to replace the house. She might even have convinced my father to sue him for the cost.”
“I imagine your uncle would have helped draw up the lawsuit, thus eliminating much of the cost and inconvenience that might otherwise accompany the process.”
“Would my parents have won the lawsuit?” Elizabeth asked.
“I can only guess, but it seems possible.”
They walked on among the smattering snow, the sun bright above. Deeper in the woods, birds chirped.
Elizabeth finally said, “So you believe my guilt will dissipate if I give Mr. Collins’ money to my father to rebuild?
” She shook her head, continuing before Darcy could comment by saying, “Earlier, I imagined I didn’t need to give them any funds in part because with the money, I am no longer a burden to them.
Now, I feel I will have to give the entirety of Mr. Collins’ inheritance to my father. ”
“I don’t think he’ll sue you.”
“Nor do I, even if my mother comes to your conclusion and urges him to, something that wouldn’t surprise me.”
“It wouldn’t?” Darcy asked, surprised. His most recent encounters with Mrs. Bennet had revealed a more sensible woman than he’d previously known. Bingley’s letter had contained much the same observation.
“When it comes to regaining her home and standing, I wouldn’t put suing her own daughter outside the realm of what’s possible, but I wouldn’t want her to. That would only squander money on legal fees. I can do what’s right without the pressure of the law.”
“I did not say that giving Mr. Collins’ money to your father was right,” Darcy protested. He hadn’t meant for her to agree so easily, if at all. When it came to Elizabeth, he expected a counter argument. He hadn’t realized how troubled she was by accepting the inheritance.
“And I will benefit from the house being rebuilt,” Elizabeth continued, as if he hadn’t spoken. “I will be living there.”
Darcy hoped she would be living in Pemberley by the time her father’s house could be rebuilt, whether she funded the operation or not, and he couldn’t permit her not to protest the idea.
As wrong as she seemed to think taking her cousin’s money was, Darcy felt it to be reasonable.
“A lawsuit would likely not give the full amount of what it costs to rebuild to your father.”
“Why do you say that?”
“He had only a life interest in the house. That means he couldn’t have sold it and couldn’t have bequeathed it to anyone, so the house didn’t have full value for him.”
“So, I could give him a portion,” Elizabeth said thoughtfully. “I do feel I should.”
“But a portion might not be enough for him to rebuild.”
Elizabeth frowned. “That’s no reason not to give the funds.”
Darcy shifted the stack of books to rest in his other arm, free hand on them so they wouldn’t spill into the snow. “It may be a reason to keep the funds, though.”
“I don’t know how much I’m going to inherit, since Lady Catherine has given me no idea of what Mr. Collins’ property will bring. I was hoping to have a kind of security. I could take what I need for that and give my father the remainder.”
Darcy hid a smile. He didn’t agree that Elizabeth owed her father any of the money, but it pleased him that she’d rallied from her guilt to argue the matter. “Security?” he prompted, to keep her arguing.
“Yes. My mother was always frantic about what would happen when our father died. Now that my father can leave the property as he wishes, Kitty is cheerfully engaged, and Jane has married Mr. Bingley, I should feel more secure. Oddly enough, I don’t.
I would like to have an income of my own.
” She regarded Darcy askance. “Does that make me greedy?”
“It makes you realistic,” he replied, boots crunching in the snow. “How much of an income would give you security? You are unlikely to get anything like your father’s income.”
“I realize that. I imagine about a tenth of his income would do, so two hundred pounds a year.”
Darcy would see her have so much more. “You would need four thousand pounds for that.”
Elizabeth sighed. “I will only have half that now, which leaves nothing for my father and brings me back to the sale of the property and hoping for over two thousand pounds from it, which seems greedy. Perhaps even irrational, as I’ve done nothing to deserve even the first two thousand pounds.”
Darcy didn’t think Elizabeth was irrational. She had lost her home, been attacked by a stranger and was one of the last people to see her cousin before he burned to death. Unable to put any of that into words, he said, “Most people want security.”
“What I want and what is right aren’t the same thing, though, are they? I will give the money to my father to help rebuild, maybe reserving twenty pounds or so to be briefly frivolous.”
“Frivolous?” That didn’t seem like Elizabeth at all.
“I miss my things.”
“What things?” If he could, Darcy would replace whatever she’d lost.
She looked away, off into the woods. “Sorting Mr. Collins’ possessions made me think of what I’ve lost.” She shook her head. “I don’t suppose money would help with any of the really important things. Some things hold too many memories to be replaced.”
“There will be new things, with new memories,” he said softly, damning the books he held. The maid who trailed them didn’t help matters, either. If he could, Darcy would drop to a knee right there on the snowy path between his aunt’s home and the parsonage and propose.
“There will be, of course, but what is lost will never be replaced.”
Even with his fortune. “Has someone looked through the ashes of your home to find anything of value?”
“Yes, when they collected Mr. Collins’ remains for the funeral. A few items were found, but my father decided it wasn’t worth spending money to find more, especially when it didn’t appear as if anything else had survived.”
They left the trees to a sweeping, unhindered view of Rosings.
As they headed across the open expanse, aimed for the kitchen door, something near to panic filled Darcy.
Far from bringing him to proposing, their discussion had added further turmoil to his plans.
He must make his feelings known before Elizabeth settled on what to do with her money and before either of them knew how much more the sale of her cousin’s property would bring.
If Elizabeth gave Mr. Collins’ fortune away before Darcy proposed, she would be desperate for security, and he would never be certain of her motives for accepting him.
Conversely, if the sale of Mr. Collins’ holdings brought a large sum and then Darcy proposed, Elizabeth, in turn, might question Darcy’s motives.
He must propose before the advent of either outcome.
And definitely before any other eligible gentlemen realized how lovely, vibrant, intelligent and essential to a man’s happiness Elizabeth Bennet was, and swooped in to charm her.
“I suppose I should write a letter to my father asking his opinion on the matter,” Elizabeth said idly as they continued to walk.
“He can give me some idea of what it would cost to rebuild and refurnish the house. He’ll be reluctant at first, but if I explain what we’ve talked about, he may see the money differently. ”