Chapter 7 Unhappily Ever After
by Melissa Anne
Rosings Park, Kent
Elizabeth seemed restless this morning as they rambled through the grove at Rosings. Most mornings, they spoke little, but this time, Elizabeth seemed more discomposed than usual. Wanting only to comfort her, Darcy asked what was wrong.
“I am well, Mr Darcy,” she said, her voice sharper than he had been accustomed.
“If there is anything I might do to aid you….” Without thinking, he took her arm and gently guided her towards a nearby folly.
They walked along peaceably to a stone bench, and he gestured for her to sit. Darcy thought she behaved stiffly. He wondered again what troubled her.
His answer came soon enough, for nearly as soon as she sat, she spoke. “Tell me, Mr Darcy, do you arrange the lives of everyone around you?”
Taken aback, he said, “As master of Pemberley, there are a great many whom I am responsible for and—”
“In truth, I have long suspected you are to blame for my sister’s present unhappiness. From what your cousin told me, I feel certain that you are the reason Mr Bingley never returned to Netherfield and my sister.”
“What do you mean, Elizabeth?” he asked, moving to sit beside her.
She stared, her mouth agape. When she gathered her composure, she said, “I have not given you leave to call me by my Christian name.”
While he ought to be moving away from the lady, something in him drew him closer. Against his sense of decorum, against his sense of restraint, in his agitation, he reached for her and kissed her.
She wrenched herself out of his grasp. “Mr Darcy! What in heaven’s name are you about?”
“Forgive me, Miss Bennet, I cannot explain what has come over me,” Darcy said, catching her hand again before he had quite realised what he was doing. “I—I love you, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth. I cannot imagine my life without you, and I will do whatever it takes to have you as my own. Marry me.”
“No, Mr Darcy”—tearing her hand from his grasp—“you may bend the world to your design, but I shall not be manoeuvred. I will not marry you. You speak of love, yet you know nothing of it. You see only lives to arrange and sacrifice as pawns upon your chessboard. I will not be a part of it.”
As she rose quickly from the bench, she stumbled, and he caught her up in his arms. The fabric of her bodice caught on one of his coat buttons, and with a sickening rip, her gown tore, baring her shift and the edge of her stays.
She gasped and crossed her arms over her chest, though the damage was plain.
Mortified on her behalf, Darcy stripped off his coat at once and thrust it into her arms, averting his eyes. “Here,” he said, abashed.
“I cannot wear that.” She pushed the coat back. “If anyone sees me as I am, it will be bad enough, but if I am wearing your coat, I can hardly think what they will say.”
“Madam, I insist. Better to wear it than have the tear on display.”
Reluctantly, she slipped his coat on. To his relief, she allowed him to escort her back to the parsonage.
Unfortunately, along the way, several of the Rosings tenants witnessed them, giving curious looks, and Mr Collins also observed them.
Darcy felt a slight chill of foreboding.
In a small neighbourhood like Hunsford, no one easily contained gossip, and the most scandalous suppositions stirred from almost nothing.
“Cousin Elizabeth,” Mr Collins exclaimed as he stood at the parsonage gate. “What is the meaning of this? Why are you wearing Mr Darcy’s coat?”
“I fell in the park, and my gown ripped,” she replied rather tersely.
“You fell? Is this to be believed? What scheme have you managed to embroil Mr Darcy in? Mr Darcy, I believe she intends to force you to marry her. She refused me, and now she has set her sights on the nephew of my esteemed patroness.”
“Mr Collins, you take too much upon yourself. What compromise? The lady said she fell. I was only too glad to be of service by lending her my coat to preserve her modesty.” Darcy struggled to speak the falsehoods even though it was some semblance of the truth, for disguise of any sort was his abhorrence.
However, he refused to admit the full truth of the matter to the toadying parson who deserved a tongue-lashing for his impertinence and meanness.
Mr Collins cowered, seeming to believe him. Alas, the servants at the parsonage spread the news to the servants at Rosings, and before midday, a torrid affair had been storied. After all, several had seen him walking out with the lady in previous days.
Within the week, the village of Hunsford was in great agitation with the scandal of Darcy and Elizabeth’s supposed assignations, despite Lady Catherine’s efforts to contain such fabrications. As soon as it became evident that they must marry, he asked for her hand again.
“Elizabeth, it is plain that we must marry to preserve your reputation.” He was delighted that circumstances would require them to marry, and he prayed that, one day, he would find a way to persuade her to view him likewise.
Once again, she protested this proposal, stating over and over that she did not love him, that he did not like her family, and that she had little desire to be another’s pawn.
After considerable time and argument, she at last yielded under the threat of ruin, not only of herself but also of her sisters if she continued to refuse.
He had thanked her, as he believed was right, and then kissed her hands as he departed for Rosings.
Although his reasoning was sound—he wished to protect Elizabeth from his aunt’s rage—he did not tell her all that his aunt said that afternoon for fear of wounding her. Instead, he merely suggested that Elizabeth pack her things and made the necessary arrangements for her return to Longbourn.
Elizabeth had reluctantly boarded his carriage whilst he rode alongside, lost in thought.
After leaving Hunsford, they had barely spoken.
He spent the journey wondering why Elizabeth had been so unwilling to marry him, how she had accused him of manoeuvring people about as chess pieces.
He had believed they were courting during those walks. Had she not?
As a result of his thoughts, he was more silent than usual when they arrived at Longbourn.
He greeted her family with what he hoped was proper respect, but he later admitted to himself that he had not given them the attention they deserved.
Though Mr Bennet had been displeased with the events that had led to the marriage, he had grudgingly allowed it to proceed to ensure his other daughters would not be ruined.
Mrs Bennet rejoiced in such an advantageous match; however, she was far more offended that the wedding must occur so quickly and without the celebration she had long imagined.
A mere fortnight after the debacle with her bodice, they married by common licence in a ceremony at the Longbourn chapel. Only Colonel Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth’s family, including her aunt and uncle Gardiner from Cheapside, witnessed the ceremony.
There was only a modest wedding breakfast, which did not trouble Darcy.
He found the Gardiners to be amiable, fashionable people, but he felt too overwhelmed by the events of the day and amidst the noisy Bennets to make proper conversation.
Darcy hoped to be able to make amends later, for both Mr and Mrs Gardiner proved to be different from what he had expected.
Mrs Gardiner, he learnt, had met his mother many years before.
Darcy resolved to invite them to Pemberley one day, but only after Elizabeth was established as his wife.
Once Darcy and his bride had departed Longbourn, knowing that they had not started as well as he would have liked, he hoped to use the days of travelling to allow them to know each other better.
“The grounds at Pemberley are extensive,” he began.
“There are several walks along the river that you may find agreeable.”
“Indeed.”
Darcy said, “Given our hasty marriage, it is best that we do not entertain any members of your immediate family, save Miss Bennet perhaps, for some time. Of course, you may write to them, but we will not visit Longbourn for some time, and especially not Cheapside. We cannot be seen in that part of town until you are well established in London society.”
Elizabeth bristled at his words but only said sullenly, “Thank you for allowing me to write to my family, at least. I would not wish to subject any of them to my ill humour at being married to a man who only finds me tolerable and has practically forced me to marry him for reasons I can yet to comprehend.”
Darcy stared at her in astonishment. Of all the accusations he might have expected on their wedding day, that was not among them.
He vaguely recalled some of the things she had said before, but he had not truly troubled himself with them, thinking all the time that he knew better than she about what would be expected.
“Tolerable? What can you mean by that? Of course, you may write to your family. I only suggest we—” Has she mistook my meaning about having her accepted in society first, to wait until the risk of scandal was behind them?
“Nearly the first words I heard you speak were when you declared me ‘tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt you.’ I had wished to marry for love, and though you claim to love me, even my father—who knows I desired nothing less—could not deny me this fate.”
“You mistake the matter entirely,” Darcy said. “Those words were spoken thoughtlessly, and long before I had formed any real opinion of you.”
She replied coolly, “I am glad to know that I improved upon acquaintance.”
Darcy shifted uneasily on the opposite seat, suddenly aware of how confined the carriage felt. Elizabeth stared out the window at the passing Hertfordshire countryside, then closed her eyes.
He assumed she must be exhausted from the excitement of the day and everything of the past weeks and decided to save further topics for after she had rested.