Darcy and Elizabeth What If? Collection 3 (9 page)
Read Darcy and Elizabeth What If? Collection 3 Online
Authors: Jennifer Lang
At last it was time for them to leave.
‘Are you quite well?’ asked Mr Darcy, as he and Elizabeth left the drawing-room a little behind the others.
‘What makes you say that?’ she asked.
‘It is just that you have become very quiet.’
He looked at her searchingly.
‘Perhaps I am a little tired,’ she said.
That was hardly an answer to his question, she knew, but luckily he let it pass.
Elizabeth and Charlotte went into the withdrawing-room to claim their cloaks and bonnets.
‘Miss Darcy is delightful,’ said Mrs Collins. ‘She is very shy and blushes sometimes for no reason, but that is just a sign of her youth. I am sure she will grow out of it. She is a credit to Mr Darcy.’
Elizabeth was glad that Charlotte had put Georgiana’s blushes down to nothing more than her youth and inexperience. Elizabeth knew better, but she was determined never to speak of it. She would not care to embarrass Georgiana in any way.
The Rosings party left the house and stepped into the carriage. Then they settled themselves down for the long journey back to Kent.
It was late by the time they reached Hunsford parsonage but Mr Collins invited Mr Darcy inside. Elizabeth gave him a beseeching look and Mr Darcy, guessing what was in her mind, accepted Mr Collins’s offer of hospitality.
Once indoors, Elizabeth went upstairs and hastily wrote an account of her day. Then she joined the others in the sitting-room.
‘And now I must go,’ said Mr Darcy, as Elizabeth entered the room.
‘I wonder if I might trouble you to put these letters in the post for me?’ asked Elizabeth, handing him a letter.
Mr Collins looked shocked that a mere Miss Bennet should ask the magnificent Mr Darcy to perform such a task, but Mr Darcy bowed politely and said he would be delighted. He understood, of course, why she had given him two letters. One of them was the one she had written the previous day, telling of his proposal. And the other one, no doubt, told of their trip to London. It was the one way in which Elizabeth could remember – or, at least, know – what had happened to them on the days she was doomed to forget.
He tucked the letters into his pocket and then he bid them all goodnight.
Mr Darcy went out with both of Elizabeth’s letters in his pocket the following morning. He took his horse out for some exercise, because it was too early for him to meet Elizabeth yet. He half expected to meet Mr Bingley’s carriage on the way back to the house. As he went through the gates of Rosings Park, he called to the lodge keeper, ‘Has Mr Bingley arrived yet?’
‘No, Sir, I’ve not seen him this morning. I didn’t know he was expected again.’
Mr Darcy brought his horse to a standstill.
‘Again?’ he asked, with his heart starting to beat more quickly.
‘After yesterday, Sir,’ said the lodge keeper.
‘Do you mean to tell me Mr Bingley was here yesterday?’ asked Mr Darcy.
His excitement had communicated itself to his horse and the animal danced a step or two to the side.
‘Yes, Sir. I thought you knew,’ said the lodge keeper.
‘Yes. Of course,’ said Mr Darcy. ‘Tell me, have today’s newspapers arrived yet?’
‘Yes, Sir, they were sent up to the house as usual.’
‘Do you happen to know what was on the front page?’ asked Mr Darcy, finding it more and more difficult to contain his excitement.
‘Something about St Valentine’s Day, Sir,’ said the lodge keeper.
Mr Darcy laughed for sheer joy.
The lodge keeper, misunderstanding the reason for his laughter, joined in and said, ‘Yes, Sir, it’s ridiculous right enough. St Valentine’s Day! What do they want to put that on the front page of the papers for? That’s not news, is it, Sir?’
‘It is to me,’ said Mr Darcy.
He rode away, leaving the lodge keeper scratching his head and mumbling about “never understanding gentle folk”.
Mr Darcy rode round to the stables and left his horse in the care of the grooms, then went inside and took the stairs three at a time in his hurry to make himself presentable before going in search of Elizabeth.
Not half an hour later he was striding through the park to her favourite walk, well dressed in his black tailcoat and cream breeches, with his greatcoat over them, flapping in the breeze.
He caught sight of her and quickened his pace.
If the day had moved on – which it had – then it could mean only one thing.
She was in love with him.
He went forward with confidence and she turned to greet him. She was looking bewitching in a sprigged muslin gown with a green pelisse and matching bonnet.
He meant to go down on one knee. He meant to ask her if she remembered anything of the past few days. He meant to make a formal speech, but he was too much in love to do any of those things and he said, ‘Elizabeth, will you marry me?’
It was from the heart, and her reply, too – swift in coming – was from the same place.
She held out her hands to him and said, ‘Yes.’
He took her hands and held them between his own, then he bent his head and kissed her.
It was the most mesmerising, loving kiss and it went on for a very long time. It sealed their betrothal and created a bond which would never be broken.
At last, when they could bear to part, Mr Darcy put out his hand to touch her cheek and he smiled with joy because now he had a right to do so.
‘Do you remember anything of the last few days?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I remember everything.’
She turned her fine eyes towards him and the early morning light gave a bloom to her complexion which he found enchanting. His heart stood still because she was so lovely and so dear to him.
She continued, ‘You told me once that there was a way to make the day move on, but you would not tell me what it was. How did you make it happen?’
‘I did not make it happen. You did,’ he said.
‘I did?’ she asked in surprise. ‘But how?’
‘By falling in love with me. That was the wish I made. I wished that there would never be another Valentine’s Day until you loved me.’
She smiled and took his arm, and together they walked down the grove.
‘You see, after my first disastrous proposal, I wished that I would not have to endure Valentine’s Day without your love,’ he explained. ‘Once I had won your love, then Valentine’s Day could arrive.’
‘So you knew, this morning, that I loved you?’
‘Yes, I did.’
‘And that is why your proposal was so swift?’
‘Yes. Did it disappoint you? It was not the kind of proposal you deserve. I will go down on one knee if you wish.’
‘No,’ she said, looking at him with a smile of pure joy. ‘It was perfect.’
He could not tear his eyes away from her. He wanted to spend the rest of his life looking at her and his heart swelled because he knew that he could.
‘I will need to go to Hertfordshire to ask your father’s permission,’ he said, ‘but then I hope you will name the day. Make it soon, Elizabeth.’
‘It can be as soon as you like. I do not need a big society wedding to make me happy. A simple service in the Meryton church with family and friends is all I ask.’
‘You shall have whatever you wish.’
‘There is one other thing,’ she said.
‘Name it.’
‘Do you think your aunt would part with the little cupid ornament?’
His eyes crinkled with laughter.
‘I will ask her. It can be her wedding present to us. I will tell her I have taken a fancy to it.’
‘I would like to put it in pride of place in the drawing-room at Pemberley. Do you really think the cupids made magical things happen?’ she asked.
‘Who can say? But whatever it was I am glad it happened, because it brought us together, and that is all that matters.’
‘Yes, it is,’ she said. ‘Who would have thought, when we met at the Meryton assembly, that we would end up here, at Rosings, betrothed to one another?’
‘Who indeed?’
And then he took her in his arms. For no matter how wonderful it was to talk to her, he wanted nothing better to kiss her. And then kiss her again.
The sun smiled down on them. And, on the mantelpiece in Mr Darcy’s bedchamber, two little cupids were laughing.
Chapter One
Elizabeth Bennet breathed in deeply, inhaling the clear Derbyshire air. It carried with it the fresh scent of spring. She turned round, arms outstretched, and revelled in the freedom of the moors. The scenery was spectacular, with views as far as the eye could see. The rough green grass stretched towards the horizon and was interspersed with outcrops of rock. Her aunt and uncle Gardiner were sitting on one of the outcrops. Elizabeth loved the Gardiners dearly and she was travelling with them on their tour of Derbyshire.
It was a welcome break for Elizabeth. Her home was not congenial, for although the house of Longbourn was beautiful, its inhabitants left much to be desired. Mr Bennet was a clever man but he did not make any attempt to guide his family. He felt himself outnumbered by women and so he retreated to his library, where he spent his time with his books, only coming out now and again to laugh at the foibles of his family. His wife and daughters therefore could do as they pleased. With some of them, this meant they could be agreeable and charming. With others, it meant they could be very tiresome.
Jane Bennet, the eldest daughter, was kind, thoughtful, gentle and good. She was Elizabeth’s favourite sister and she never embarrassed anyone. Unfortunately, the same could not be said of the other girls. Mary, the middle sister, was self-righteous and always wanting to be better than everyone else, so that she tried everyone’s patience with her moralizing and her lectures. Kitty was silly and easily led. Lydia, the youngest, was a flirt and she was growing increasingly wild, since neither of her parents checked her behaviour. Mr Bennet did not check it because he was lazy and Mrs Bennet did not check it because she was as silly as Lydia. She had a good heart, and she loved her daughters, but she showed it by trying to catch eligible husbands for them instead of giving them any guidance on the best way to behave.
And so Elizabeth was very glad her aunt and uncle had invited her to go away with them. The holiday was particularly interesting for her because Derbyshire was her aunt’s former home county, and so Mrs Gardiner was able to enliven their days with tales of old acquaintances.
‘What do you think of the moors, Lizzy?’ called Mrs Gardiner.
‘I think they are breathtaking!’ said Elizabeth. She joined her aunt and uncle and gazed around her once more. ‘I feel so free here and I could walk for miles.’
Mrs Gardiner smiled, for Elizabeth loved to walk.
Elizabeth’s gaze came to rest on a magnificent estate far below.
‘What is that house down there?’ she asked.
She nodded towards the great house in the distance. It was so large that it was easily seen, even though it was far away. It was set on rising ground and glints of light could be seen now and then as its windows caught the spring sunshine. Behind it lay an area of woodland, with the leaves on the trees rippling in the wind like a green sea.
‘That is Pemberley,’ said Mrs Gardiner. ‘It is the greatest house hereabouts and a very fine mansion.’
‘Who lives there?’ asked Elizabeth curiously.
‘A family by the name of Darcy,’ said Mrs Gardiner. ‘Mr Darcy and Lady Anne Darcy live at Pemberley with their two children, Fitzwilliam and Georgiana.’
‘Darcy. That is an interesting name. It sounds French in origin. Do you know if the family came over with the Norman conquest? Their name certainly suggests it. Is it spelled D’Arcy or Darcy?’ Elizabeth asked, spelling both names.
‘It was probably D’Arcy at one time, but now it is Darcy. They are a very old family and you are right about them coming over with the Norman conquest. They came to England with William the Conqueror in 1066 and they have been here ever since.’
‘The name Fitzwilliam suggests they are of royal descent,’ said Elizabeth with interest.
‘It is possible,’ said Mrs Gardiner. ‘Lady Anne Darcy’s brother is an earl and perhaps, somewhere in her family tree, is King William the Conqueror himself.’
‘Mr Darcy is certainly proud enough to be of royal blood,’ said Mr Gardiner.
‘What makes you say that?’ asked Mrs Gardiner.
‘I was talking to one of the grooms who works at the inn this morning. He used to work at Pemberley and said the Darcy family are all very proud.’
‘And well they might be, if they live in such a house!’ said Elizabeth.
She tried to imagine what it must be like inside. There would be a grand drawing-room and a dining-room and a ballroom, as well as a sitting-room and a library. There would perhaps be a study, too, and a room in which the lady of the house would speak to the housekeeper and approve the menus and attend to the household duties. There would probably be a flower room and a boot room and many other chambers which were thought necessary in such a fine mansion.
‘I thought we might go and see the house tomorrow,’ said Mrs Gardiner. ‘The family is away and at such times visitors are allowed to look around.’
‘I would like that,’ said Elizabeth.
They had seen several fine houses on their travels but the house below had caught her imagination and she longed to see inside it.
‘Then it is settled,’ said Mr Gardiner. ‘Tomorrow we go to Pemberley.’
The route to Pemberley was impressive and Elizabeth gazed out of the carriage window with admiration. They turned in at the gates and drove past the lodge, then passed through a wooded area where bluebells coated the ground like a waving sea. They ascended for half a mile and then saw Pemberley House standing on rising ground, with a stream before it. They crossed the bridge and drove to the front door.
Mr Gardiner pulled the imposing bell pull and the door was opened by a majestic footman. Mr Gardiner asked if they might see over the house and the housekeeper was called.
When she arrived, Mrs Gardiner gave a start of pleasure.
‘Can it be?’ she asked the housekeeper. ‘Is it really you, Janet Baker?’
‘Why, if it is not Margaret Hall,’ said the housekeeper in delight.
‘I am married now. My name is Mrs Gardiner,’ said Mrs Gardiner.
‘I, too, married, and I am Mrs Reynolds,’ said the housekeeper.
Mrs Gardiner explained. The two ladies had been friends as children. Mrs Gardiner’s father had then moved to London on account of business. The two ladies were delighted to see each other again. They renewed their friendship as they walked round the house, talking of people and places they had known in their past and telling each other of everything that had happened to them since.
Elizabeth listened to them to begin with but then she gave her full attention to the house. She turned round often as she walked through the hall behind her aunt and Mrs Reynolds, for there was much to see. There were marble columns in the hall and frescoes on the ceiling. The bright colours and mythical scenes were most impressive. They went into the dining-parlour, which was a handsome room, and they admired the wonderful view of the grounds from the window. There were colourful flower beds near the house and fine lawns stretched into the distance.
‘The house is not at its best just now. A lot of the paintings and ornaments have been have been removed to the attic so the maids can give the house a thorough spring clean,’ said Mrs Reynolds. ‘It is a pity, for there are some very fine portraits to be seen. But the master is holding a ball at Pemberley soon and everything must be perfect by then.’
‘It must be difficult to keep a place of this size in good order,’ said Mrs Gardiner. ‘I do not envy you. It is hard enough to spring clean our house in Cheapside, and Pemberley is ten times as big.’
‘It is not easy, I grant you,’ said Mrs Reynolds. ‘But Mr Darcy is a generous employer and there are always plenty of servants to do the work, so we manage.’
They continued round the house.
‘I cannot show you the ballroom,’ said Mrs Reynolds. ‘The chandeliers were taken down for washing last week and they are being rehung. But if you have time I hope you will come back again. It is well worth seeing, for it is a magnificent sight.’
Mrs Gardiner expressed her interest in returning, but added, ‘As long as we will not be in the way. When does your master return?’
‘Not until next week,’ said Mrs Reynolds.
And so it was arranged they would visit Pemberley again in a few days’ time.