CHAPTER TWO
THE NEW HEIR
Elizabeth piled her arms with hastily torn twirls of ivy and prickly holly branches, the better to disguise her whereabouts.
She pushed her way through the kitchen door, purposely humming a Christmas tune, as if she had been in the garden, gathering merry Yuletide greenery, and knew nothing of heirs or proposals or one entitled man who had proclaimed her destiny as if she had no say in it.
She halted, for there stood the very man in question—Fitzwilliam Darcy—glowering in the passage.
He was in the act of pulling on gloves, but his gaze made a point of abject disapproval, traveling from her mud-caked boots to the bedraggled hem of her pelisse, and finally to the dripping greenery clutched in her arms, each detail earning its own silent censure.
“Miss Elizabeth, were you not aware that greenery gathered before the twenty-fourth is inauspicious?” His stare centered on the pink bonnet that had slipped sideways and now hung askew from her head.
Elizabeth’s stomach twisted, wondering how conspicuous the pink bonnet would be amongst the gray December landscape. He had been at the window. Had he looked down and seen her telltale bonnet?
“Inauspicious?” Elizabeth adjusted her armload of holly with a frigid smile.
“I should think a gloomy gentleman lurking in dark passages with his gloves already drawn would bring far more ruin to a household than a branch of winter ivy. Or perhaps you fear the greenery might spook your mount along the lane?”
“Oh, I fear nothing other than your talent for turning a quiet country lane into a hazard course, Miss Elizabeth, though I confess an ivy-festooned creature topped with a glaring pink bonnet is enough to spook every horse between here and Meryton.”
Mrs. Bennet and Elizabeth’s sisters had by now gathered in the passage, along with her father, who puffed on a pipe.
“Lizzy, whatever were you doing trampling around the muddy groves?” Her mother exclaimed.
“Hill! Hill, kindly relieve Miss Elizabeth of the grotesque greenery, and oh, but you must be more presentable as Mr. Darcy, of Pemberley—can you imagine?—is your father’s heir—due to take Longbourn from us and pitch us all into the hedgerows unless… ”
And here, her mother’s avaricious attention alighted onto Jane, and Elizabeth saw her sister cringe while Hill and the kitchen maid attempted to relieve Elizabeth of the greenery she was hiding behind.
The ribbons on her bonnet were tangled in the holly, and Elizabeth’s curls fell from their pins as the unfortunate bonnet was taken away with the bundle of rustic decor.
“Indeed.” Darcy finished pulling on his gloves, bowing stiffly. “Mr. Bennet, Mrs. Bennet, young cousins, I was just taking my leave.”
“I believe you will find London more to your liking, Mr. Darcy.” Elizabeth mock-curtsied.
“Oh, but Lizzy, have you not heard?” Mrs. Bennet crowed. “Your father has kindly offered Mr. Darcy the use of the steward’s cottage while he attends to his business here.”
A jolt of fear licked Elizabeth’s insides. She studied her mother carefully, wondering if her father had also disclosed Darcy’s intent to marry her.
“Estate matters,” Darcy said, darting a sharp glance at her. “Longbourn has vast potential, as noted in the entail documents.”
“How fortunate for us all that you have volunteered to oversee its improvement,” Elizabeth replied. “Though I must warn you, the cottage has not hosted anything larger than a mouse in recent memory, and the roof has lately shown a keen interest in stargazing.”
Darcy’s jaw tightened. “I am accustomed to managing difficult situations, Miss Elizabeth.”
“I do not doubt it, sir. Derbyshire must be full of them, especially in your close vicinity.”
“Fewer than you might imagine.” His gaze held hers long enough for Elizabeth to feel the warning beneath the courtesy. “I find the local difficulties far more… engaging.”
“Oh, but Mr. Darcy, you must not leave so soon!” Mrs. Bennet practically pushed Jane into him. “You must stay for dinner. We dine at five, nothing grand, but Cook does an excellent roast, and my Jane—”
“Mr. Darcy has business to attend to, my dear.” Mr. Bennet drew on his pipe, observing the scene with the satisfaction of a man watching an amusing theatrical performance. “Mice to evict. Roofs to assess. The cottage will not improve itself.”
“But surely he must eat! A gentleman cannot subsist on—”
“I am most grateful for the invitation, Mrs. Bennet.” Darcy retrieved his hat from the hall table. “But I shall not impose upon your hospitality until I am properly settled.”
“Will there be balls?” Lydia pushed forward, nearly treading on Kitty’s foot. “If you are to improve everything, there must be balls. Netherfield had a ball, and—”
“And officers!” Kitty added breathlessly. “Will you bring officers as part of your improvement endeavors?”
“I want a dancing master,” Lydia declared. “Kitty and I are shockingly neglected in our accomplishments.”
“I hardly think Mr. Darcy has come to provide us with dancing masters, Lydia.” Mary’s voice cut through her sisters’ clamor. “Fordyce writes that young women ought to cultivate inner refinement rather than—”
“Nobody asked Fordyce,” Lydia shot back.
“Girls, girls!” Mrs. Bennet flapped her hands. “Mr. Darcy will think us savages! Jane, come forward and make your curtsy properly. Mr. Darcy, my eldest daughter is considered quite the beauty of the county, and her temperament is—”
“I am sure Miss Bennet’s qualities speak for themselves.” Darcy inclined his head toward Jane, who had gone very pink. “Ladies. Mr. Bennet. I shall leave you to your fascinating greenery.”
His gaze lingered, briefly, on Elizabeth before he vanished through the door.
The silence lasted exactly two held breaths before the room exploded.
“Ten thousand a year, Mr. Bennet! Ten thousand! And you sat there with your newspaper and your smirking and never once thought to mention it.”
“I mentioned a gentleman of consequence, my dear. I believe those were my exact words.”
“You said nothing of the sort! You said ‘a third cousin with removes’ and let me imagine some ancient toad-creature when all along it was Mr. Darcy!”
“It is a most extraordinary development, isn’t it?” Mr. Bennet said dryly as the entire family made its way to the drawing room to dissect the day’s catastrophic events.
“That Mr. Darcy of Pemberley is the heir?” Mary asked in her unctuous tone. “Why does he need Longbourn when he already has Pemberley?”
“I believe it is due to him as your father’s third cousin,” Jane said. “Perhaps he might be agreeable to changing the entail, as I have heard there are families that include females in the line.”
“Oh, if only he would.” Mrs. Bennet fluttered to the sofa and prostrated herself. “He seems rather determined to manage our estate as if he already owns it. The gall of that despicable man.”
“But Mamma,” Lydia interrupted. “He has offered to improve all of us. I, for one, would request new gowns and ribbons. That would be a worthwhile improvement.”
“Lydia, you are speaking of a man who is shortly to control the future of every woman in this room,” Elizabeth said, pulling off her ruined gloves with more force than the leather deserved.
“Perhaps the question is not whether he brings dancing masters but whether he intends to stand over us with a ledger and tick off our deficiencies.”
“And to think of the way he treated us at the assembly!” Mrs. Bennet threw her handkerchief onto the settee as if striking a blow for queen and country.
“Refusing to dance with our Lizzy when she was sitting right there with partners lacking, and glowering at poor Mary as if her playing the pianoforte was a capital offense! He looked at every soul in this room as though we were so much ditch water!”
“A very accurate description of his manners, my dear,” Mr. Bennet observed, turning a page of his book with infuriating serenity. “Yet I take it you still intend to invite him to dinner on Friday?”
“Well, of course we must!” Mamma snapped, snatching the handkerchief back to dab at her heated brow.
“He is a gentleman of ten thousand a year, and the rightful heir to Longbourn besides. Even if he is an odious, haughty troll who deserves to be horsewhipped, he has eyes in his head, and Jane is looking particularly blooming this morning. If he has half a brain, he will see past his own grand connections and realize what a bargain he is getting in this family.”
“And what a bargain we shall receive.” Mr. Bennet polished his spectacles with a silk cloth.
“He intends to bankrupt Pemberley to remedy all of Longbourn’s defects.
Waxes eloquently on the beauty of Longbourn’s descriptions.
Strange that I did not see such evocative prospects in my copy of the entail documents. ”
“Perhaps his copy is a forgery,” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed. “We can have it overturned, and then Jane can inherit. She is a true Bennet, after all.”
“Not until Mr. Darcy has spent his fortune on improvements.” Mr. Bennet rose from his armchair. “I see no reason to object, though I should like it noted that I have managed this household for five-and-twenty years without the assistance of any gentleman from Derbyshire.”
“Managed it into the ground,” Mary murmured, but only Elizabeth heard, and she did not smile.
Her father shuffled by her, too slowly, and caught her eye as if they shared a secret. “Lizzy, I should like a word with you in my study. There is a small matter regarding—”
“If it concerns the new heir,” Elizabeth said, and her voice was tight and did not tremble, “then I have nothing to contribute beyond the sincere hope that he is a better horseman than Mr. Collins. Beyond that, Papa, I am quite sure you and Mr. Darcy have settled everything between you most satisfactorily without consulting any of the furniture.”
“As you wish,” he said mildly. “Though the furniture, I believe, would have a great deal to say if consulted.”
“The furniture has been sat upon quite enough for one day.”
She left the room while her father still smiled and Mrs. Bennet drew breath to renew the ballroom campaign, while Lydia whispered loudly about officers and Mary reached for Fordyce.
Jane was the only one who turned toward Elizabeth with that gentle, searching look that always threatened to draw out confidences best left unsaid.
Elizabeth gently shook her head, alleviating Jane of her silent concerns that Mr. Darcy had indeed come for nefarious reasons, mainly that he expected everyone to accept him.
He had said so himself: I will not take no for an answer.
He had ridden into Hertfordshire with the proud assurance of a man who had never been refused anything he considered his right, and he believed that Elizabeth Bennet—sharp-tongued, mud-soaked, bonnet-askewed Elizabeth Bennet—could be acquired along with the estate, improved with the drainage, and installed as the mistress of Longbourn as naturally as one might install new drapes.
He was, of course, grievously mistaken. Elizabeth intended to make the most of his error, and would take particular pleasure in watching him depart Longbourn, crushed hat in hand, scratched coat in disarray, and screaming desperately to amend the entail in favor of the female line.