Darcy and Elizabeth What If? Collection 1 (25 page)

‘But then, the young man was found to be unsuitable?’ asked Elizabeth.

It was a guess, but a reasonable one, and Mr Wilson’s brief nod told her that she had guessed correctly.

‘I am afraid to say that he turned out very wild, drinking heavily and consorting with the wrong kind of people,’ he said. ‘And so Mr Darcy nominated me instead.’

Elizabeth looked at Mr Darcy, who was engaged in conversation with her aunt.

She could not make up her mind whether she approved of his actions or not. He had not given the living to one of his family’s favourites, as many wealthy men would have done, regardless of their suitability for the role, which was something she admired. But, on the other hand, he had not given the steward’s son a chance to grow out of his youthful follies and reform, which was something that troubled her.

The soup was removed and the baked turbot was brought in. Conversation became more sparse for a while but when the fish had been eaten then conversation resumed.

Elizabeth now found herself speaking to Colonel Fitzwilliam. He had many interesting stories to tell about his time in the army, and he confirmed Mr Wilson’s information.

‘Is he really so bad? Has he done anything that puts him entirely beyond all hope of reform?’ asked Elizabeth.

‘Perhaps not,’ Colonel Fitzwilliam admitted. ‘But Darcy expects a great deal from himself and consequently expects a great deal from others.’

‘That is a fault in his character indeed,’ said Elizabeth.

‘Yes, I believe it is, but he we all have faults. And perhaps, as faults go, it is not such a terrible one.’

As to that, Elizabeth was not sure. But she was beginning to see, more and more, why Mr Darcy had proposed to Jane, for Jane was one of the few people in the world who would never lose his good opinion. Jane’s sweet nature was incapable of making an enemy, and she would never disappoint him.

But, as for the rest of the family, Elizabeth thought he would be a difficult man to have as a brother-in-law. She wondered if it would be such a good idea for them all to live at Pemberley, after all.

Lydia, Kitty and Mary would find it difficult to live up to his high standards. And so, thought Elizabeth, would she. Mr Darcy wanted an obedient sister-in-law who would behave as he wished – she remembered him opening the door for her and standing aside, expecting her to walk through it .But her own natural impulse had been to thwart him, and it always would be.

Perhaps she and the other girls should go to live with their aunts after Jane’s marriage. To be sure, there would be a crush if they all went to aunt Philips, or all to aunt Gardiner, but if two went to each then perhaps it would be possible. With their small inheritance they would be able to pay for their keep – a necessity as none of their relations were very rich – and they would be able to make themselves useful.

Elizabeth felt a pang at the thought of never – or, at least, only rarely – seeing Pemberley again, but it would be better to forego the pleasures of the estate and not be expected to give in to the whims of its master.

Elizabeth had a strong spirit and an independent nature, and she had no intention of letting any man – least of all the proud and superior Mr Darcy – tell her what to do.

There were no large parties held at Pemberley; no balls or picnics or other public events to celebrate Mr Darcy’s betrothal. It was not yet a year since Mr and Mrs Bennet had been killed and Mr Darcy had agreed with Mr Gardiner that no formal announcement should be made until the year of mourning was complete.

But although there were no large parties, there were plenty of pleasurable activities.

Mr Darcy was as good as his word and arranged for a phaeton to take Jane around the park. He offered to teach Jane to drive it, but Jane declined, saying she did not feel equal to handling the horses. Mr Darcy said, in that case, he would order the coachmen to drive her whenever she wished. And so Jane often went out in the phaeton, sometimes with Mrs Gardiner and sometimes with Elizabeth.

Mr Darcy spent much of his time seeing to business, but when he was with the ladies he was always polite and respectful, if rather arrogant. He was a man who liked his own way, and Elizabeth could not help thinking that what he needed was a wife who would stand up to him, instead of a wife who would defer to him. But she did not trouble herself with it overmuch, for Jane seemed happy and that was all that really mattered to her.

Then came a day of rain, when it was impossible to go out of doors. Jane and Mrs Gardiner busied themselves with sewing in the drawing-room, but Elizabeth was too energetic to sit still for long and she declared her intention of asking the housekeeper to show her round the rest of the house. She had been so busy out of doors in the fine weather that she had not yet completed her tour of the inside.

She went upstairs to fetch her shawl, for the day was cool, and on her way back along the landing she met Mr Darcy.

On saying that she intended to continue her tour, he surprised her by offering to be her guide and, unable to think of a reason why he should not show her round the remainder of the house, she accepted.

They were at that moment near the portrait gallery and so they went in. Elizabeth had noticed it often, and had always meant to examine the portraits, but her time had been full. Now, however, she meant to take her time and study the portraits.

The gallery was a long room of elegant proportions, with tall windows down one side of it. On the opposite wall, the paintings were arranged in historical order, with portraits of the Darcy family going back for hundreds of years. There were Darcy gentlemen in the dark suits and white ruffs of the Elizabethan age, and Darcys in the flamboyant silks and satins of the Stuart age, leading right up to portraits painted very recently.

Elizabeth stopped before the portrait of a man in regimentals, which she recognized as Colonel Fitzwilliam. Next to it was a portrait of a family group, with Colonel Fitzwilliam as a young man.

‘Is this your cousin’s family?’ asked Elizabeth, stopping in front of the portrait.

‘Yes, it is. My uncle, The Earl of Harking; his wife, the Countess; and my six cousins.’

Elizabeth looked at them with interest. They were very fine people in sumptuous clothes and although they were not as handsome as the Darcys, there was a family resemblance

‘So these will be Jane’s relatives,’ said Elizabeth.

‘Yes, they will. Once we are married, Jane and I will go and visit them.’

They passed on to the next portrait. It was of another family grouping, with a mother and father looking proudly at their children. The son was unmistakeably Mr Darcy, but how different he looked, not just because he was younger but because of his expression. Instead of the cold mask she was used to seeing, he looked relaxed and happy. The difference was so enormous that she looked from the portrait to the real man in the flesh and could hardly believe the difference.

What had occasioned such a change?

The answer came swiftly. He had lost his parents.

Jane had told her that Mr Darcy had lost his father some five years previously, and his mother before that. It had formed an early bond between Jane and Mr Darcy, for he understood how it felt to lose both parents.

Elizabeth felt an unexpected lump rise in her throat as memories of her own parents came back to her. She had loved them dearly, despite their faults, and their death had left a huge hole in her life. For a time, she had lost her natural playfulness and she had been bowed down by grief. She had not laughed or teased; she had stayed indoors and she had felt tired and heavy. It was only gradually, and with the help of her friends and remaining family, that she had recovered some of her spirits.

They had still not returned completely, for since then she had had many responsibilities, helping Jane to look after Longbourn and their sisters. But Mr Darcy’s burden had been much heavier. He had had to assume the mantle of the master of Pemberley, with many people depending on him. No wonder he lacked lightness. He had to be strong in order to carry the burdens that life had given him to carry. And in becoming strong he had lost the happy, carefree young man he had once been.

Elizabeth felt a growing respect for him. There were many advantages to being Mr Darcy of Pemberley, but there were responsibilities, too, and he had not shirked them as many young men might have done. He had not gone wild. He had instead accepted his duty, and if the price of that was a serious personality, then he accepted that, too.

But it did not need to be that way.

Elizabeth saw now that the man before her had another side to him and she longed to reclaim it. He looked so happy in the portrait that she could not bear to think of all that happiness being lost. She felt an urge to reawaken that side of his nature and to pass some of her own liveliness on to him.

But how to do it? That was the question. When she challenged him or refused to fall in with his wishes, he did not react with humour, he looked at her with haughty disdain. And yet there must be a way to do it, even if it meant teasing him at every available opportunity until she finally brought a smile to his face.

They moved on, and Mr Darcy told her about the other portraits until they reached the end of the gallery.

From there, Mr Darcy led her into the music room. There was a piano at the far side of the room and Elizabeth was drawn to it like a magnet. She had not played since leaving Longbourn. There had always been so much to do that she had not found the time, but now she was tempted to sit down at the fine instrument and run her fingers over the keys. She longed to hear how it would sound. Far better than the small and rather cracked pianoforte at Longbourn!

‘You are welcome to play it whenever you wish. Do you play?’

She nodded, running her hand lightly over the rosewood casing and thinking how beautiful it was.

‘A little,’ she said.

‘It is an old piano and I am thinking of buying a new one for my sister, but perhaps you will be good enough to overlook its deficiencies,’ he said. ‘Will you play something for me now?

She was surprised by his request and suddenly felt self-conscious, for he must be used to hearing the best musicians. But her longing to play overcame her self-consciousness, so she sat down at the instrument and played one of her favourite songs.

So engrossed was she in her music that she did not look up. But if she had, she would have seen an unusual look of longing in his eyes. She would also have seen a soft smile about his lips. She would have noticed his gaze lingering on her, wandering over her dark, lustrous hair before moving on to the pearl earrings in her dainty ears.

At last the song came to an end. She had enjoyed it immensely, but she was suddenly embarrassed because she knew she did not play very well. She had a good touch and a natural talent, but she did not practice enough to be a proficient. She played wrong notes sometimes and her fingering was awkward, resulting in a lack of flow to the tune.

Mr Darcy did not speak but his expression told her he had enjoyed her performance, despite its faults. Without her intending it, her music had brought something of his former happiness to his face. She saw a softer set to his shoulders and his while posture spoke of relaxation, as though all the stress and tension had gone out of him.

From challenging him to teasing him to relaxing him, Elizabeth had instinctively changed her way of dealing with him as the occasion demanded. He was a complex man, and Elizabeth had risen to the challenge of his complexity without even thinking about it. In doing so, she had brought herself closer to him.

And she had brought him closer to her.

When the tour was over, Mr Darcy sought the seclusion of his study. He closed the door and leant back against it with a feeling of dismay. He had thought himself free of Miss Elizabeth’s enchantment, which had started with the sight of her fine eyes. It had disappeared for a while, when he had first met her, because she had not looked up to him in the way he expected. But the enchantment had returned and it was growing stronger than ever. He had come to like her challenging, independent, teasing ways. No one had ever dared to treat Mr Darcy of Pemberley like that!

But now . . .

He pushed himself away from the door and strode across the room. He poured himself a brandy and then threw himself down into a chair, with one leg raised and draped over its arm. He stared at the fireplace and wondered how he was going to cope with the tangled mess he had made.

The door opened and he quickly sat upright, but it was only his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam.

‘May I?’ said Colonel Fitzwilliam, walking over to the drinks table.

Mr Darcy nodded.

Colonel Fitzwilliam poured himself a drink and then sat down in a chair opposite him.

‘It’s Miss Elizabeth, isn’t it?’ said the Colonel without preamble. ‘She’s your mystery lady.’

Mr Darcy nodded miserably.

‘Darcy, I am so sorry.’

‘Not as sorry as I am,’ said Mr Darcy. ‘It’s a terrible situation. I don’t know what to do.’

‘There is nothing you can do,’ said Colonel Fitzwilliam. ‘When I arrived, you and Miss Elizabeth seemed to treat each other with icy politeness and I had no inkling of who she was. Then I saw her teasing you once or twice and I began to wonder. She has such remarkably fine eyes, and they sparkle whenever she speaks.’

‘They do, don’t they?’ said Mr Darcy, a smile lighting his face. ‘Has anyone else noticed anything amiss?’

‘No. Nor will they. No one else knows about your mystery lady – unless you have told anyone?’ he added as an afterthought.

Mr Darcy shook his head.

‘I thought not,’ said Colonel Fitzwilliam. ‘Then no one can know there was a prior attachment on your part, even if it was only a lady glimpsed in a carriage several years ago.’

‘But if you have noticed something in the way we act when we are together, then other people might have noticed something, too.’

‘I do not think so,’ said Colonel Fitzwilliam. ‘It might, perhaps, arouse a slight suspicion in anyone who knows you well, and who is watching you closely, but nothing more.’

‘And yet you guessed there was something. What was it that gave me away? I must be more careful in future. Did I speak to her for too long at dinner? What was it?’

‘It was nothing like that. If you must know, I happened to walk past the door of the music room when Miss Elizabeth was playing. The look on your face . . . I have never seen such a look on your face before. In fact, I thought I would never see such a look there. You have known many women, Darcy, but not one of them has ever provoked a look of even half that intensity. I swear, at that moment, you did not know that anyone or anything else existed.’

‘No, I didn’t,’ admitted Mr Darcy. ‘Only Elizabeth.’ He sank further into his chair. ‘But I do not see any way out of the situation.’

‘No, there is none.’ Colonel Fitzwilliam shook his head. ‘You cannot call off the engagement without being sued for breach of contract. And even if you could, it would not be the act of a gentleman to do so. Rightly or wrongly, the world would say there must be something wrong with the lady, or you would not end it, and the gossip would ruin her chances of a marriage elsewhere. And for Miss Bennet, marriage is the only sure safeguard against poverty. Without it, she will sink to a much lower level in life.’

‘Then tell me, what am I to do? For I feel as though I am being ripped in two.’

‘You must see as little as possible of Miss Elizabeth for the rest of her stay.’

‘You think that will help? You think she does not return my feelings?’ said Mr Darcy.

‘I do not know her well enough to say. But I will help you to avoid her. I will escort her whenever necessary, so that you can avoid her without rudeness - although I must make it clear to her that I cannot marry anyone but an heiress, for I do not want to raise expectations in that direction. Then, too, Georgiana will soon be here and that will be another distraction. But you must spend as little time as possible with Miss Elizabeth before she returns to Hertfordshire. Once there, things will be easier. You will not be staying in the same house – I think you said that you will be staying at Netherfield Park?’

Mr Darcy nodded.

‘Yes, Bingley has already moved in.’

‘Then you will not be tried so hard. But you must not invite Miss Elizabeth to live with you after the wedding. If you cannot face the thought of putting her in the way of some other eligible gentlemen, so that she might be safely married off, then I will do it for you. For not until she is married, will you – or Jane - be safe.’