Only Mr. Darcy Will Do (14 page)

“Shall we play again tomorrow night then?” he asked, looking up with an expectant glimmer in his eyes.

“I am not altogether certain,” she said, feeling as though her knees might crumble at any moment. “I have plans to visit some friends of my aunt who live in Lambton, and I will be staying for dinner. I fear I might be returning late.”

Darcy skewed his mouth. “I see.” He turned to his cousin as his fingers drummed the table. “Hamilton? Shall we go at another match?”

“Oh, no! I shall not be made a fool of again. I see that even Miss Bennet is more proficient than I. Come, Miss Matthews, allow me to teach you the game, then perhaps I might have a slight chance to win.”

“I should like that very much!” she replied with enthusiasm.

Elizabeth stood up and bid everyone a good night. By now, the Goldsmiths had both departed to their room, leaving only Miss Darcy, who was reading.

Elizabeth walked over to her. “Good night, Miss Darcy. Thank you for a lovely day.”

“Miss Bennet,” Georgiana said merrily. “I do believe that my brother enjoyed his match with you. Our cousin does not play as well or as often, and when he visits, my brother does not feel as though he can play as strategically as he would like. His matches the past few nights could be described as fairly half-hearted, to say the least. Until yours tonight.”

“I am quite certain he was not playing his best. I know he allowed me some moves.”

“Perhaps,” replied Georgiana softly, “but I know he was enjoying himself, for he was smiling.”

“Smiling?” Elizabeth laughed nervously and turned her eyes toward him. She saw that he had taken up a book, but had not yet opened it. His eyes were turned toward them. Looking quickly back at Miss Darcy, she said, “Good night, Miss Darcy. Have a pleasant evening.”

As she walked to her room, she passed the library. She knew that sleep would not come any time soon, so she walked in, hoping to find something suitable to read. She returned to the area where earlier she had seen books of poetry. Her fingers trailed up and down the spines, reading the names of the authors until she found it. Cowper! She pulled it from the shelf and returned to her room, holding the book tightly to her heart.

Once in her room and dressed in her nightdress, Elizabeth settled herself comfortably in the rocking chair in the corner of the room and draped a coverlet over her lap. She picked up the large volume of Cowper’s poems and opened it to the first page. She began to read but found it difficult, for her heart still pounded and her mind still reeled from the recent events of the evening.

Looking over at the small table next to her bed, she stood up and walked over to it, opening its one small drawer. She pulled out a book, and from underneath, she picked up several pieces of folded paper. Her recent letter from Jane was on one sheet, and the letter Mr. Darcy had written to her over a year ago consisted of two sheets of paper covered on both sides.

She brought the two letters over to her bed, propped up the pillow and reclined against it. Carefully unfolding them, she reread Jane’s letter first, going over the portion about Mr. Darcy’s visit and how amiable she and the Gardiners had found him. She could now read her sister’s words with nary a concern for Miss Darcy’s heartache, since hearing her account of what had transpired between the two. She also no longer felt concern that Mr. Darcy’s friendship with Mr. Bingley had been jeopardized by his and Jane’s engagement, as he had appeared truly happy for them when he offered her his congratulations the day of the treasure hunt.

When she finished reading Jane’s letter, she slowly turned to the other. She looked at the meticulous handwriting, and knowi
ng who it was from and all that had transpired between them brought about a wave of fluttering deep within her.

Elizabeth
read his letter again. She knew not how many times she had read his missive since the day he first handed it to her, but she truly believed that with each reading, it had wrought a different state of her feelings. She found it rather unbelievable that she could now read his justification for separating Jane and Mr. Bingley with
a modicum of understanding.

She placed the letter in her lap and lifted her eyes toward the ceiling. He had truly been looking out for his friend’s best interest. Elizabeth could readily concur that Jane did not overtly display her feelings of affection for Mr. Bingley, and Mr. Darcy did not believe her to be in love with him.

She closed her eyes and clutched the letters to her heart. She had been so angry at Mr. Darcy that she had not even considered that the success he had in separating them should have reflected even more on Mr. Bingley’s weakness of character
than any power of persuasion he had over him.

She took in a deep breath. Of course she would give Mr. Bingley the benefit of the doubt. He trusted his friend implicitly. He trusted his judgement, his opinion, and his guidance. She had seen the respect that others had for Mr. Darcy and now understood that he was a man who had earned and deserved it. Mr. Bingley had not just carelessly followed the advice of some foolish and thoughtless simpleton, or even someone completely unjust, as she once accused Mr. Darcy of being. She could at least credit Mr. Bingley with the good sense to put his implicit trust in someone of noble repute.

She smiled as she thought of her sister. Yes, she would allow Jane to love Mr. Bingley, despite the fact that she, herself, would find it difficult to love a man so easily swayed. While Jane had a generous and forgiving demeanour, she need not ever know all the reasons behind those months of separation, longing, and wondering.

She ran her fingers over his signature at the bottom of the second page.
Fitzwilliam Darcy.
She could not prevent a sigh from escaping.

A tap at the door startled her out of her reverie. As it opened, Elizabeth quickly shoved the letters under her pillow. Rosalyn poked her head in. Hands shaking, Elizabeth quickly reached for the book of Cowper’s poems, and she attempted to display a calm demeanour despite the alarm she felt instead.

“Elizabeth!” Rosalyn greeted her cheerily. “I am so pleased you are still awake. May I come in?”

Elizabeth nodded, her heart still pounding.

Rosalyn came over and sat on the edge of the bed. Elizabeth quickly looked down at her pillow to make sure the letters were not protruding, giving them an unobserved little shove to make sure.

She leaned in toward Elizabeth and said in a whisper, “Miss Darcy just informed us that she has some special plans for us tomorrow!”

“Special plans? Did she say what they were?” asked Elizabeth, feeling somewhat disappointed that she already had plans to visit the Ketterlings.

Rosalyn shook her head. “She is to tell us in the morning, but I think we are to go on a journey! Is this not the best news?”

“It ought to be very nice,” Elizabeth assured her.

“This is the perfect opportunity for me. While we are out on our little excursion, I intend to make Mr. Darcy notice me and to convince Miss Darcy that she absolutely cannot abide anyone else becoming her sister in the near future!”

“Convince Miss Darcy?” Elizabeth asked, wariness colouring her features.

Rosalyn tossed her head casually and her lips parted in a rather artful smile. “Perhaps, once we become inseparable friends, a bit of persuasion on her part to her brother will help my cause.”

Elizabeth asked weakly, “How do you intend to do this?”

Rosalyn clasped her hands in her lap and tilted her head. “I shall divide my time tomorrow between Mr. Darcy and his sister. While I am with the one or the other, I shall be gracious, attentive, and most deferential in my words to them.”

Elizabeth bit her lower lip as she listened to Rosalyn. Her brows furrowed as she considered poor Miss Darcy in the midst of Rosalyn’s undivided attention, and Mr. Darcy as he endured Rosalyn’s scheme to secure his affection.

“Rosalyn,” Elizabeth was surprised to hear her voice, and when her friend looked toward her, she took in a deep breath. “Please remember to be your natural self. I believe Mr. Darcy can easily detect artifice. I do not believe he is a man who wants to be incessantly and carelessly flattered.”

Rosalyn waved a hand at her. “Elizabeth, every man appreciates a little flattery! Besides, I have been nothing but myself here. I merely believe he needs to see another side of me.”

“Perhaps,” was Elizabeth’s only reply. Changing the subject, she asked, “Did you learn anything tonight from Mr. Hamilton about chess?”

Rosalyn shrugged her shoulders. “Mr. Hamilto
n. He is a lively, friendly sort. I would be pretty much taken by him if he had at least some fortune. I wish Mr. Darcy was as witty as he was. Sometimes Mr. Darcy can be so very serious. But I cannot forget his fortune—this Pemberley.” She sighed. “Oh, to be Mistress of it!”

Before leaving, Rosalyn grasped Elizabeth’s two hands.
“Remember to pray for me tomorrow that I will have success. Will you?”

When Rosalyn danced out of her room, Elizabeth bit her lip. She knew she could not pray for such a thing and hoped fervently that Mr. Darcy would not succumb to Rosalyn’s attentions. She no more loved him than Elizabeth had loved him at Rosings.

Wit
h much agitation, she reached under the pillow and grabbed the letters, quickly placing them back under the book in the drawer in case Rosalyn suddenly returned.

Elizabeth opened Cowper’s book again. She read late into the night, delighting in his poems that were descriptive of scenery, his faith, and even his distress. Several pages seemed smudged, as if someone opened them often to read the verses on the pages over and over. She found herself studying portions that had been underlined and wondered if it had been done by Mr. Darcy himself.

Later that night, after reading many pages of poems, she slowly closed the book. She placed her hand upon it, absently stroking it, as if it were the very heart of Mr. Darcy.

***

The next morning when she awoke, she sat up in bed, at first wondering whether the previous evening’s time spent in the sitting room had been a dream. When she had at last convinced herself it had not, she began recollecting all that had been spoken between her and Mr. Darcy.

Certainly she had not been of a rational mind to hear his words as he had meant them to be understood. Having earlier that day contemplated that she might possibly love him, she certainly must have misinterpreted what was, most likely, a simple explanation of the game of chess.

She slipped the coverlet off and stood up, walking over to the window. It was grey and misty outside, certainly not the type of weather in which to go walking. She sat down in the rocking chair and again picked up Cowper’s book of poems. In a way she was grateful for the excuse not to go out this morning. She did not feel up to encountering Mr. Darcy. She did not wish to misinterpret more of his conversation and consequently betray her own feelings for him—if she had not already. It was scandalous for her to even consider that he might still have feelings for her. Even if he did, her current situation would prohibit any alliance between them.

After reading through several poems, she walked across the hall to Emily’s room.

She tapped on the door as she slowly opened it. “Good morning, Emily. Did you sleep well?”

“Yes,” she replied, stretching out her arms. “It is a most comfortable bed. Do not tell Mama and Papa, but it is far more comfortable than my own!”

Elizabeth smiled. “Mine is most comfortable, as well.” Even with all her thoughts and feelings that had been stirred last night, she had had barely a thought once she had placed her head down upon the pillow. “Why do you suppose that is?”

Emily looked up at Elizabeth with a broad smile. “I heard Mama and Papa say that Mr. Darcy is very fast… fast… fastid…”

“Fastidious?” Elizabeth asked.

“Yes, that is what Mama said. What does that mean?”

“Well,” Elizabeth thought before she answered. “To be fastidious means that you have a decided opinion about things and will not settle for anything less.”

“Is that good?” Emily asked.

“It can be good if the person’s opinion is reasonable and just.”

“Do you think Mr. Darcy’s opinion is reasonable and just?”

Elizabeth’s heart stirred as she contemplated Emily’s innocent question. “Yes,” she answered slowly. “I believe it is.”

***

At breakfast that morning, everyone came in dressed for church. Miss Darcy announced to everyone the plans she had made for the afternoon, once they returned from services. Everyone seemed pleased with the prospect of a carriage ride through the peaks. The early morning fog was beginning to burn away, and the hope was that by early afternoon it would be a beautiful day.

Mr. Darcy made an agreeable declaration that he had two fairly large carriages for occasions such as this that would hold everyone comfortably. The kitchen staff was even now preparing a meal that would be sent along with them, and plans were to enjoy it at one of Georgiana’s favourite lookouts, an easy ride up the peaks.

Elizabeth admitted to herself a twinge of envy as she heard their plans and for but only a short moment considered cancelling her visit with the Ketterlings. She would not disappoint her aunt, however, and quickly dismissed that idea.

Later that morning, when they arrived at Pemberley Church, Elizabeth watched as Mr. Darcy walked briskly through the churchgoers, greeting many with a simple hello and bow. Georgiana appeared to be more attentive to them, asking about their families and answering their enquiries.

Mr. Darcy seemed intent on moving past these people and getting inside. She chuckled to herself as she recalled his comment when they were at Rosings that he did not feel comfortable amongst people with whom he was not familiar. She wondered how well he truly knew his neighbours.

As they approached the doors of the church, however, he stopped abruptly. The rector greeted him with a fervent handshake, and the two spoke briefly. He then turned, waiting for everyone to join him, and made introductions.

Elizabeth guessed Reverend Grierson to be close to fifty years old. He had a genuine smile that reached all the way to his eyes. As he acknowledged and welcomed each person, he looked intently at them, as if truly caring for them. She liked him already.

Mr. Darcy led the party to the Darcy family pews at the front of the church. He and Georgiana took their seats at one end of the pew, and the others then took theirs. Elizabeth looked up, and from this vantage alone, they had the view of one of many stained-glass windows. It was set deeply into the wall, so it had not been visible from the other parts of the church.

As she was admiring its beauty, Reverend Grierson began the service, welcoming everyone, especially Mr. and Miss Darcy and their esteemed guests. After singing a few hymns, Reverend Grierson began his sermon, teaching on the joy one ought to have if they put their trust in God, when life is going our way as well as when one goes through valleys in life.

As Elizabeth listened to his words, she truly believed he was speaking from experience, not merely extolling the virtues from the Scriptures. She often stole a glance at Mr. Darcy, who was seated in the row ahead of her and at the other end. She wondered whether he had a preference for sermons that prompted self-examination or induced slumber.

He seemed engaged in the sermon, unlike others who were fighting to keep their eyes open and their heads upright. He sat slightly askew, leaning toward the end of the pew, his fingers slowly massaging his jaw in contemplation of the words. An occasional nod and a slight smile gave Elizabeth the impression he was truly listening, agreeing with all the reverend had to say.

After the services, they returned to Pemberley, and everyone hurried to change out of their church clothes into attire more suitable for an outing. Elizabeth, choosing to remain in her nicer dress, helped Emily change and then proceeded to the sitting room to wait for the Ketterlings to arrive.

As she waited, the sound of a carriage approaching brought her to her feet, and she went to the window. Instead of seeing one carriage, she watched as two huge, beautiful carriages, each emblazoned with what must be the Pemberley crest, stopped in front. She noticed Mr. Darcy speaking to the drivers. It was apparent these were the two carriages he had spoken of earlier.