Chapter 2
Rosings Park, Kent
Fitzwilliam Darcy stood before his mirror, adjusting his midnight blue coat with unnecessary precision.
His stylish sister, Georgiana, had mentioned more than once that the color made him seem less forbidding than his usual black.
Today, he needed every advantage. He tugged at his collar, straightening what was already perfect.
In vain, I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed.
The words he had rehearsed a dozen times now sounded inadequate. How did one propose to a woman whose family connections were so far beneath his own? How did one explain that, despite every rational objection, the scandal it would cause among the ton, he could not imagine his future without her?
Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
Even her name affected him in a way that he had never experienced before.
Four months had passed since he had fled Hertfordshire.
Four months of telling himself that distance would cure his fascination with her.
Instead, each day confirmed what he had tried so desperately to deny: she was everything he had not known he wanted.
Seeing her again in Kent had decided it. There would be no going back.
Where other women simpered and agreed with his every utterance, Elizabeth challenged him.
Where they calculated their responses for maximum advantage, she spoke her mind with refreshing honesty.
Her quick wit matched his own. Her intelligence sparked conversations that energized him rather than wearied him.
And those eyes! Dark and expressive, they sparkled with mischief when she teased him. They also flashed with anger when he offended her principles. What touched him the most was when they revealed depths of feeling that he was only now ready to name.
Love. He loved her.
The master of Pemberley, grandson of an earl, one of the most sought-after bachelors in England, was in love with a country gentleman’s daughter who had no fortune and an abundance of embarrassing relations.
The realization should have terrified him.
Instead, he was determined. Today, when the party from Hunsford Parsonage came to tea, he would find a moment alone with her.
He would speak the words that had been burning in his heart for months.
He offered security, position, social acceptance, and wealth. A life far beyond anything she could hope to achieve without him. The thought of her joy, her gratitude, sent warmth spreading through him. Today, once she said “yes,” he would be the happiest man alive.
“Would you sit down?” his aunt barked from her throne.
Darcy paced Lady Catherine’s drawing room with impatience. The guests from the parsonage should have arrived by now. Each minute that passed felt like an eternity.
Finally, voices in the corridor announced their arrival. Mr. Collins entered first, his usual obsequious smile firmly in place, his wife behind him, and her youngest sister trailing at the rear.
Darcy waited. Any moment Elizabeth would appear in the doorway, and he would suggest a stroll in the garden where he could begin the most important conversation of his life.
But no familiar figure followed. The doorway remained empty.
“Where is Miss Bennet?” Lady Catherine’s imperious voice cut through the room. “Has she taken it upon herself to ignore my invitation? Does she consider her country manners superior to proper respect for her betters?”
Predictably, Mr. Collins groveled. “I beg your pardon, my lady. My cousin surely meant no disrespect to her condescension of your Ladyship. She…”
“Then where is she?” His aunt’s fan snapped open.
Mrs. Collins, with admirable calm, provided the answer that made Darcy’s world tilt. “She received an express from Mr. Bennet early this morning requiring her immediate return to Hertfordshire. She departed as soon as the cart was available, catching the post coach at the inn.”
Gone. The word echoed in Darcy’s mind like a death knell.
All his careful plans, his rehearsed words, and his imagined joy at her acceptance crumbled to dust. Fighting the urge to demand details, he gripped his hands behind his back until the signet ring he always wore pressed into his palm.
Why had she left? Why the urgency? Would she return?
His cousin, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, asked the questions that plagued Darcy. “Is her family well? Was there a difficulty that drew her home?”
A hint of a smile crossed Mrs. Collins’ lips. “In his letter, Mr. Bennet assured his daughter that all was well at Longbourn before requesting her immediate presence to help him implement positive changes in the household.”
“I see.”
Lady Catherine rapped her fan on the arm of her chair. “This is intolerable! Young people these days, always galivanting about the countryside. When I was her age, I had responsibilities.”
Pride kept Darcy silent. He would not expose his disappointment.
Why did I not speak yesterday? The question tormented him.
He had walked with her through the grove, enjoying her company in companionable silence.
The perfect opportunity, and excessive caution caused him to squander it.
Now she was fifty miles away. He would need to leave Kent immediately after writing to request an invitation to Netherfield Park from Bingley. Blast!
The butler’s entrance provided a welcome distraction from his self-recrimination. “Mr. Darcy, an express has arrived for you. The rider first stopped at Darcy House in London before being redirected here. According to him, the sender instructed him to await your response.”
An express? Darcy’s stomach clenched. Georgiana!
Was his sister unwell? Had a tragedy happened?
He excused himself quickly. Richard followed him, concerned.
The two men shared guardianship of Georgiana Darcy, who was not yet seventeen.
During the past summer, he had rescued her from eloping with George Wickham, a former friend who had the morals of a snake. Was Wickham again making demands?
The letter bore the Cambridge coat of arms. Not news about his sister, then. Breaking the seal, Darcy found the spidery handwriting of Phineas Drye, his former professor.
Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy,
I trust this letter finds you in good health and spirits. I write on a matter of utmost urgency and extraordinary opportunity that requires men of both intellectual distinction and practical capability.
A recent discovery promises to yield the greatest treasure ever found. I cannot elaborate in correspondence, but I assure you this venture is legitimate, and the potential is staggering. The expedition requires several months in the Mediterranean, departing from London as soon as you can.
Darcy scowled. Archaeological fantasy was the last thing he needed right now. Pemberley required his attention. More importantly, he needed to find Elizabeth.
He stopped on the next paragraph.
I extend this invitation to only three gentlemen: yourself, Mr. Thomas Bennet of Longbourn in Hertfordshire, and Lord Marcus Burton of Waverly Park in Yorkshire.
Elizabeth’s father?
Given the complexities of extended travel, you are welcome to include a family member, should circumstances permit. If I may make a suggestion, your cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, would be particularly valuable, given his military expertise.
The implications struck him like lightning. If Mr. Bennet accepted, he would bring his second daughter along. Elizabeth was his only child with the intelligence and spirit for such an adventure. Jane was newly married; Mary, too bookish and timid; Kitty and Lydia, too frivolous.
Elizabeth on a dangerous expedition with only Mr. Bennet’s inadequate protection?
The thought sent a chill through Darcy’s veins.
Mr. Bennet was not a man of action. His neighbors knew him for his indifference to his family’s welfare.
He would be so absorbed in ancient texts and discoveries that he would never notice the countless dangers surrounding his daughter.
Not if I can help it. If Elizabeth were to be placed in jeopardy, he would be there to ensure her protection. And maybe…maybe in foreign lands, away from the rigid society of his peers, he would find the opportunity he had missed in Kent to speak the words he was too proud to say the day prior.
“Richard, what say you for a journey to the Mediterranean?”
His cousin took the proffered letter and read it twice. “Treasure hunting with old Drye-as-Dust? It sounds like madness.” He folded it carefully and held it out. “You actually mean to go?”
Darcy asked the butler to inform his valet and the stables that he would leave within the hour.
“If you are with me, we will take my carriage to London tonight and ride to Cambridge on the morrow.” Darcy mentally cataloged the arrangements that would be necessary.
Fortunately, he had a competent steward and man of business.
“I shall need more details before I make a final decision.”
“Now, there is the Darcy I know. Always cautious. Always overthinking every opportunity.”
Darcy met his cousin’s knowing gaze.
“Ah.” Richard’s grin was insufferable as he nodded.
Explaining their abandonment to Lady Catherine took longer than desired. As it was, they did not make London until nightfall.
Early the following morning, the two men were on their way to Cambridge, and Richard spoke easily over the rhythm of their horses’ hooves.
“Convenient timing, do you not agree? Miss Bennet receives an urgent summons home the very day you get an invitation that will take us through Hertfordshire. And could this Mr. Bennet be her father?”
Darcy kept his gaze on the road ahead. “Coincidences happen.”
“Hmm. Yes, they do.” Judging by Richard’s tone, he found this coincidence highly amusing. “Miss Bennet was a refreshing change from the artful misses one usually encounters in Town. I was charmed by her during our time at Rosings, you know.”
A cold, piercing dread twisted in Darcy’s stomach. “Were you?”
“Oh yes. We had a delightful conversation while you were trapped by Aunt Catherine’s lecture on hedge management. Miss Bennet has the most engaging laugh.” Richard glanced sideways at his cousin. “I could easily see myself falling for such a woman if circumstances were different.”
“Circumstances?”
“Well, she has no romantic interest in me. Friendly, certainly…but nothing deeper.” The colonel’s voice held disappointment. “Besides, I suspect her affections lie elsewhere.”
Where? The question burned on Darcy’s tongue, but he could not ask.
“Still, if I were to court her properly, I wonder…” Richard paused.
“She seemed to enjoy my company. And I have certain advantages, you know. A cheerful disposition, ease in company, and the ability to make her laugh.” He fixed his cousin with a meaningful look.
“Unlike some people who stand about, glowering.”
“Are you saying you intend to court her?” His words were sharper than he had intended.
“That would depend on whether I have competition.” The colonel’s grin said he knew exactly what he was doing. “Hypothetically speaking, of course.”
Darcy stared straight ahead, his jaw working silently. He could not lie outright. He had never been capable of such deception. But he had no desire to confess his feelings to another before sharing them with Elizabeth. Even worse, he would have to suffer his cousin’s relentless teasing if he did.
“Miss Bennet is…an unusual woman,” he answered carefully. “Her mind is uncommonly keen.”
“And…?”
“I find her company less tedious than most.” He wished he could bite off his own tongue. Less tedious? Was that truly what he had just said?
Richard laughed outright. “My dear fellow, that is the most passionate declaration I have ever heard you make about a lady. ‘Less tedious than most.’ Be still, my beating heart.”
“I merely meant…”
“Oh, I know exactly what you meant.” Richard was enjoying himself far too much. “I believe the great Fitzwilliam Darcy, master of Pemberley, has met his match. And you have not the faintest idea what to do about it, do you?”
“Enough,” Darcy said through gritted teeth. “Can we not discuss Professor Drye instead? You remember him?”
“Old Phineas ‘Dry-as-Toast’ Drye? Oh, I remember him well. Brilliant scholar. Terrible teacher. He made ancient history feel positively ancient, if you catch my meaning.” Richard shook his head.
“I cannot imagine what has possessed him to organize a treasure hunt at his age. The man must be approaching one hundred and twenty by now.”
“Eighty-five, I believe. But his mind remains sharp.”
“Sharp enough to lure respectable gentlemen away from their comfortable lives with promises of riches.” The colonel spurred his horse forward. “Come on, then. Let us go hear what sort of madness he plans to ensnare us into joining.”
As they raced toward Cambridge, Darcy wondered if a measure of madness was not exactly what he needed.