Pride, Prejudice & Secrets (5 page)

“That is most generous of you,” Mr. Bennet said. “Jane is staying with my brother’s family in London. Lizzy and Maria Lucas were supposed to stay with them for several days before the whole party returned.”

“Then it is settled, sir. I can accommodate the whole party for the return journey.”

“Yes, I suppose so,” Mr. Bennet said doubtfully, taken aback by the dizzying speed of events and again wondering whether Darcy’s fortune was the reason that Elizabeth so unexpectedly accepted such a man.

“I think further details can be considered once your daughter returns home. I am sure your wife will want to be consulted as to the time and location of the wedding, though I assume you would prefer for her to be married from Longbourn.”

“I am sure my wife would,” Mr. Bennet said slowly. “Lizzy has attended the Longbourn chapel her whole life.”

“I thought as much. As for the timing, I would suggest a date before full summer. The journey to my estate in Derbyshire would be less taxing before the heat makes travelling unpleasant.”

So soon?
Mr Bennet thought in agitation.
Is my Lizzy to leave me so soon and go off with this stranger to Derbyshire? I knew it had to happen, but so soon?

In a rare flash of perception, Darcy realized that Mr. Bennet was a father faced with losing a daughter — seemingly forever, from his point of view — after caring for her all her life.

“Sir,” he said sympathetically, “I know it seems a dramatic change in the lives of both Elizabeth and yourself, but Derbyshire is not
that
far removed from Hertfordshire.”

Mr. Bennet sighed, more than a little surprised at Darcy’s empathy, and said, “I thank you for that reminder. Lizzy is my favourite daughter, and I shall miss her company.”

“I had surmised that. You are certainly welcome any time you feel the desire to visit.”

“I shall now be sentenced to abide alone in a household of silly females.” Mr. Bennet immediately wished he could unsay the words. He did not know this man well enough for humour.

But Darcy only nodded. “I do indeed commiserate with your situation, sir, but perhaps you now see why I fell in love with Elizabeth. I, too, needed someone to talk with besides my own sister.”

Mr. Bennet was well aware that Darcy controlled his fortune; indeed, virtually his first knowledge of the man was the information that he had ten thousand a year. But he now realized that Darcy’s immediate family must consist only of himself and his sister.

His face must have shown his surprise and confusion, and Darcy said, “Yes, it is just my sister and myself; both our parents have passed on. But Georgiana is rather shy and is, in any case, only sixteen and thus untutored in the ways of the world. The assistance of your daughter may well be invaluable in her life, as well as filling the void in mine.”

“Only sixteen?” Mr. Bennet said in surprise. “And I take it that she is in your charge?”

“Under my father’s will, I share her guardianship with my cousin Fitzwilliam. But he is often elsewhere due to his military duties, so I usually fill that role by myself.”

“For how long, if I may ask?”

“It is now five years since my good father died. My mother died some eleven years before that, giving birth to Georgiana. My father…well, he was a good man but was not…comfortable…with children. As a result, I have had much of the care of Georgiana for…some years even before he died.”

“For so long! And at such an age? Why, you cannot be thirty, even now.”

“I am eight and twenty. I was just twelve when my mother died.”

“And Lizzy is barely twenty. Perhaps she is too young for you?” Mr. Bennet surprised himself by managing a sly smile, which drew a tight smile from Darcy.

“She is admirably sensible for her age, sir. I am sorry I cannot alleviate your situation. I need her as much or more than you.”

He looked directly at Mr. Bennet and said softly, “I love her, sir. I do not think I could live without her. Loving her as you do, I hope you can understand my feelings and her value to me.”

Despite himself, Mr. Bennet could not help but be touched by this unexpected revelation from a man renowned for his reserve and aloofness. Clearly, he had unexpected depths, and Mr. Bennet discreetly tried to swallow the knot suddenly forming in his throat.

Finally, he managed to say, “That would seem to be as far as we can go at the moment, Mr. Darcy. Except…perhaps it would be best if I gave you a note for my brother Gardiner. He lives on Gracechurch Street in east London, and I shall let him know I have given my approval to the marriage and that you will be bringing all three girls back to Longbourn instead of our previous plan. Please pardon me for a minute…”

Mr. Bennet quickly wrote a note and, after a moment’s thought, wrote another one. He folded and sealed both notes and addressed them.

“Here is a note to my brother, along with his address, and here is another for Lizzy. You can include her note in your express, if you would be so good, and I would be obliged if you would send the other to my brother Gardiner when you return.”

Darcy nodded and accepted them, then stood as Mr. Bennet rose and held out his hand.

“I am not sure whether I should thank you for such unexpected news, but I do wish you and Lizzy all happiness in the future,” Mr. Bennet said as Darcy took his hand.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Well, well, then you had best be on your way, young man, before my wife learns of your visit. I shall endeavour to keep your news until Lizzy returns, but she will be curious.”

Darcy gave a quick nod, thanked him again, and departed, closing the door behind him.

Mr. Bennet collapsed into his chair, staring at the door in bewilderment.

“How did all this happen?” he asked himself aloud.

“I shall have to ask Lizzy when she returns,” he said, answering his own question.

As he remembered the way he had given his blessing to the marriage, Mr. Bennet thought,
I do not believe I have ever been so shocked in my life. Mr. Darcy! That he might love my darling Lizzy is one thing and is at least possible, though difficult to comprehend. But that she might agree to marry him, which goes against everything she has ever said, is quite another and is nigh impossible to grasp. She is going to need every blessing that can be directed her way if she marries this man!

Then, giving a shrug at the way events were passing quickly out of his control and in a manner impossible to retard, he poured himself a large glass of port and opened his book.

Chapter 4

“Absence diminishes mediocre passions and increases great ones, as the wind extinguishes candles and fans fires.”

— Francois de La Rochefoucauld, French author

Friday, April 10, 1812: Rosings, Kent

“
Y
ou sent for me, your
ladyship?” Mr. Collins asked after being admitted to Lady Catherine’s office, which was the usual locale of the many conversations in which she made her desires known. He dreaded those dialogues in which she dictated and he had no choice but to listen attentively and nod in agreement. He might wish it were otherwise, but it was not, and he had no choice but to do as he was ordered. He was all too aware of his good fortune in securing such a well-founded living and could not chance a disagreement or confrontation with the person responsible for that fortuity.

But he was disturbed at the moment: she left him standing in front of her desk and seemed to stare right through him rather than invite him to take a seat.

“Yes, yes I did,” she said, her voice devoid of emotion. Not cold or hostile, really. Just…devoid.

“You can be at no loss, Mr. Collins, to understand the reason for my demand that you attend me. It concerns, to be perfectly frank, the machinations of your wife’s guest and the manner in which she has ensnared my nephew Mr. Darcy. Imagine the presumption of such a completely unknown girl to…to think herself deserving of membership in this family! It shall not be tolerated, Mr. Collins! It
will not
be tolerated!”

Since Mr. Collins had brought the news of her nephew’s engagement the previous evening, he was, of course, aware of the reason for her displeasure. But what did she mean, the engagement would not be tolerated? After what his wife related of Mr. Darcy’s attachment to cousin Eliza, he was convinced Mr. Darcy would not be dissuaded, though he was completely mystified by such a violent attraction. Given her family’s situation, he would have thought his assertion of the previous autumn — that Miss Eliza might never receive another offer of marriage — would likely prove true. But any further reverie was cut short as her ladyship resumed her harangue.

“…shall not suffer the insult of her further presence in my parsonage. I want her sent on her way forthwith — this afternoon, if at all possible, but no later than early in the morning!”

“But…but…your ladyship.” Collins was horrified at the request being made and the deplorable position it put him in. “My cousin is ill, quite ill. According to Mr. Darcy’s physician — ”

“That charlatan Douglas? Why, Dr. Palmer says he is the laughingstock of the whole profession! No one — I repeat, no one — of any prominence goes to that man!”

“But Miss Elizabeth is dreadfully ill, your ladyship!” Mr. Collins was almost grovelling in desperation. “Mrs. Collins says her fever is high and she will not be able to travel for days — many days, possibly.”

“Nonsense! The girl is young and strong; she can certainly undertake a trifling journey to London. See to it at once. I shall even contribute the use of my coach to accomplish the journey.”

Proud of her magnanimity, Lady Catherine stood, certain the interview was completed and that she had once more imposed her will on her parson. But unbeknownst to her, deep within the breast of that subservient parson actually lurked the remnants of the man he might have become if not for the overbearing, almost bullying, nature of his illiterate and miserly father. Mr. Collins came slowly out of his unconscious, subservient posture, standing erect and straightening his shoulders.

This I cannot do,
he thought, though he was still terrified.
Such an unchristian act is simply too much. I cannot…I just cannot do it.

“Lady Catherine…” He attempted to put as much firmness as possible into his voice, and his attempt must have had some success since her head came up sharply at the unaccustomed tone in his voice.

“Lady Catherine,” he said, when he had her attention. “I cannot permit Miss Elizabeth to make such a journey in her present condition. She must be allowed to remain at least until her fever is gone.”

Lady Catherine stared at him in shock for some moments, unable to comprehend the sense of his words. When the import of his statement finally sank in, her complexion purpled.

“What did you say?” Her voice was dangerously low, almost a hiss, and Mr. Collins paled at the menace in her tone. However, he had gone too far to retreat, and he tried to hold his voice steady as he replied.

“I cannot force Miss Elizabeth from my home when she is so ill, your ladyship. She must be allowed to regain her health before hazarding the journey to London.”

“And this is your last word, Mr. Collins?” Her voice was icy, and the poor man felt sorely tempted to relent and take back his words. But he had really gone too far to retreat, and he only nodded.

“Very well, then. I cannot force you in this matter since you will not oblige me. You are dismissed.”

But as he turned to go, Lady Catherine had the last word as she virtually always did.

“I am most seriously displeased, Mr. Collins!” she announced harshly. “Most seriously displeased indeed!”

It was a rather frightened young man who took his leave of his fearsomely intimidating patroness, backing away and bowing continually until he left her study, wondering all the while whether he had just brought to an end the valuable living for which he had previously been so thankful.

After all,
he thought miserably,
there is more than one way to interpret ‘you are dismissed.’

Friday, April 10, 1812: Hunsford Parsonage, Kent

The shadows were beginning to lengthen when Elizabeth next woke, and she was dreadfully thirsty. She stifled a groan as she sat up and swung her feet to the floor; her back and shoulders hurt, and she felt a fatigue she had never before experienced. Her headache was diminished but was by no means gone. She swallowed and grimaced at the sour taste in her mouth and the sharp pain in her throat.

I really do feel terrible,
she thought blearily, as she poured herself a glass of lemonade.
I wish I could tell myself I am not ill, but it is impossible.

She looked up at a gentle knock on the door, and Charlotte entered at her invitation. “How are you feeling now, Eliza?”

“Perhaps a little better.” Elizabeth grimaced at the rasp in her voice and the pain in her throat. She quickly took a long drink, trying to soothe the pain, and her throat did feel better, but swallowing still hurt.

“I really do not like being ill,” she said plaintively. “I feel terribly foolish for saying I do not get sick, and I know I am not coping well. No, no, do not attempt to dissuade me; you know I am being a terrible patient.”

“You are not doing all that badly, Eliza, now that you will admit to being sick.”

“Yes, I remember too well.” Elizabeth looked down at Darcy’s folded note on the bedside table, and her face showed her dismay as the memory of the previous day’s events flooded through her.

How am I to repair what I have done to myself?
she thought desperately.
I must do something, yet Darcy is gone and has likely already seen my father; I cannot believe Papa could do other than give his consent. And Colonel Fitzwilliam is already informed, and Darcy will now tell his sister and likely the rest of his family and friends. It is customary to wait at least a short period in case one or other of the couple changes their mind, but I know Fitzwilliam Darcy well enough to be certain nothing could make him cry off this marriage. But what do I do? I cannot marry the man! The mere thought is intolerable! But how do I avoid this quandary? Why, oh why did I fall ill at such a time? It is all my fault; I should have had the wit to remain upstairs!

But Charlotte misinterpreted Elizabeth’s expression as indicating physical distress and urged her to return to bed, feeling Elizabeth’s cheek and forehead.

“Your fever is still present but is definitely lessened.” She spoke with certainty, and Elizabeth had to believe her. Charlotte had helped nurse her brothers and sisters, so her knowledge was far greater than Elizabeth’s.

“Now,” Charlotte said briskly, “would you like some broth? The cook can prepare it quickly.”

Elizabeth considered the question for a moment before shaking her head. “I think not, Charlotte. I am not hungry at all and would prefer to go back to sleep. But I would like some more lemonade before I do so.”

Charlotte nodded in agreement and summoned a servant to refill the pitcher. While they awaited her return, Charlotte was silent though Elizabeth could see that some matter was bothering her.

She looks…well, almost ashamed
, Elizabeth thought.
Why should that be?

Finally, after the lemonade was delivered, Elizabeth sighed and said, “It is perfectly obvious you have something on your mind, Charlotte. After our long friendship, should you not just go ahead and tell me what concerns you so?”

Charlotte looked up sharply then smiled. “I have never been able to fool you, have I, Eliza?” But, despite her words, she could not speak for some moments until she finally squared her shoulders and faced her friend. “This is most embarrassing, and it pains me to say it, but it seems Lady Catherine was most desirous that you should leave the Parsonage as soon as possible.”

On seeing Elizabeth’s eyebrows raised in query, Charlotte threw up her hands in dismay.

“It is no use; I shall have to tell you everything, no matter the embarrassment. You may not be aware of it, but Mr. Darcy could not call on you today because he was obliged to depart Rosings very early this morning.”

Elizabeth nodded her understanding, and Charlotte continued. “But it is the reason for his leaving — and the reaction of her ladyship — that is most distressing. I have learned from Mr. Collins that she…she does not look upon his future marriage favourably.”

“He mentioned that in his note, but I cannot see why you should be embarrassed about any of this. Neither you nor my cousin is involved and cannot be responsible for Lady Catherine’s reactions — even if they are, as seems likely, rather intemperate.”

“Evidently, Mr. Darcy and her ladyship had quite a row last night, and he departed quite hastily. But it seems she also vented a portion of her ire in your direction…and ordered my husband to evict you from this house forthwith.”

Charlotte held up her hand at Elizabeth’s sudden look of alarm. “Do not trouble yourself, Eliza; you shall not leave until you are recovered. My husband told Lady Catherine that such conduct toward anyone, much less a member of his family, would be completely impossible, and he would not permit you to leave until your fever is gone.”

At these words, Elizabeth recognized that Charlotte wore a rather strange expression on her face — an expression of amazement, and yes, even of pride.

And I have to join her in that,
she thought, though her headache was making any attempt to think quite distressing.
Who would have ever thought my foolish cousin capable of standing up to his patroness? It is rather astounding…and also quite touching.

“I could not ask for anything more,” she said, laying her hand on Charlotte’s arm in token of her sincerity. “Mr. Collins is, after all, completely dependent on Lady Catherine’s approval. I do hope that this will not cause any permanent harm in his relationship with her.”

Charlotte looked doubtful. “Only time will tell in that regard. But the situation does mean…”

“…that I shall have to leave as soon as I can travel. I shall send an express to my uncle in the morning. I believe I should be well enough to travel on Sunday, and I shall ask him to engage a carriage and come for me. Do you think Maria will want to leave early?”

“No, I think not.” Charlotte gave Elizabeth the smile reserved for older sisters discussing the foibles of their younger siblings. “She is still much enamoured of teas and dinners at Rosings. I believe she has tabulated every visit she has made and will be capable of regaling all the family with the particulars until Father firmly tells her to cease.”

“I see.” Elizabeth smiled wanly, remembering her own visits to that estate with no particular favour. “Then I shall inform my uncle it will only be myself.”

“Eliza, I do not want you to be too hasty…” Charlotte said, but Elizabeth only smiled again.

“I do not believe it will be too onerous, and, in any case, if I am not feeling better tomorrow evening, we can send another express asking for a delay. No, I do not want to cause your husband any problems. It was quite good of him to stand firm against Lady Catherine. The sooner I am gone, the better for all concerned.”

“Perhaps.” Charlotte looked doubtful before she said, “A delay of a few days might be advisable. It would make it seem less as if you were being untimely forced to leave. And in any case, it might be difficult for your uncle to engage a carriage on Sunday.”

Elizabeth frowned at this and eventually nodded. “You may be right in that. Very well, then, I shall stay through Sunday and request him to travel on Monday.

Seeing the uncertain look on her friend’s face, Elizabeth hastened to reassure her. “Everything will be fine, Charlotte. Really, it will — especially if I wait until Monday to depart.”

Then, seeking to end the conversation and Charlotte’s misgivings, she said, “And since I have at least learned enough to admit my illness, I believe I shall lie down again. Sleep is what I need.”

“I think that is a very good idea, but I want your assurance you will ring if you need anything at all.”

“I shall do so,” Elizabeth said solemnly, lying back and pulling the coverlet over her. “I promise.”

“See that you do.” Before leaving, Charlotte lit the candle on the bedside table, for the room was now growing dim.

Elizabeth sighed as Charlotte left and looked over at Darcy’s note.
I should read it again and try to consider what I can do
. She pressed her fingers against the throbbing ache behind her forehead.
But it is too much. I cannot think on it tonight. I shall be better tomorrow, and I shall consider it then. Yes, tomorrow — that will be soon enough, I am sure.

Again, and most fortunately for her, she was asleep before she even realized the healing balm of slumber was near.

Friday, April 10, 1812: Darcy Townhouse, London

The sun was a handbreadth above the horizon when Darcy returned to his home, and he immediately ordered hot water and the presence of his valet. An hour later, cleaned, refreshed, and attired in clean but comfortable clothing, he returned downstairs and, upon hearing a pianoforte, went directly to the music room, where he found his sister rather desultorily running through an odd melange of musical pieces.

He frowned as he silently looked at her, seeing the melancholic set of her fine features as her fingers moved idly over the keys. From the sadness in her face and her lack of concentration, he was inwardly certain she was recalling the narrow escape of being enticed into an elopement with his boyhood friend George Wickham the previous summer. He shook his head slowly, hoping his news might possibly help the person he cherished most in the world to get beyond those morbidly depressing thoughts.

Well, perhaps she is no longer the person I cherish the most,
he surmised as the lovely features of Elizabeth Bennet swam into his thoughts.
But it is a close-run thing, and Georgiana is the one I have cherished the longest — at least among those still living…

He winced inwardly at the memory and grief of losing both mother and father, leaving him alone with responsibilities that still weighed heavily on him and with none from whom he could seek advisement.

Except Richard, of course,
he thought warmly, remembering the sturdy loyalty and steadfast friendship of his cousin.
Bingley is also a stalwart friend, to be sure, but he is much more in need of my guidance rather than the opposite. But Richard is the kind of friend who will offer advice when asked — if he thinks it worthwhile — but he is equally quick to admit, when appropriate, that he has little to offer. Many so-called advisors appear compelled to offer their opinion on everything, even when they know nothing and their opinion is worse than useless.

At that moment, Georgiana became aware of him, and he was cheered as the expression of melancholy left her face to be replaced by a warm smile.

“William!” She stood eagerly as he crossed the room to her. “I was not aware you had returned. I did not expect you until tomorrow.”

“Yes, Richard and I left early this morning,” he said as he embraced her and kissed her cheek.

“This morning?” She frowned in puzzlement. “Why…you should have been home hours ago, surely.”

“I left Richard at Fitzwilliam House but did not come straight home. I had an errand in Hertfordshire.”

He could see her confusion and escorted her to a couch. “Let us sit, and I will explain. It is somewhat complicated.”

“Is Aunt Catherine unwell? Is that the reason for your early return?” she asked suddenly. “And why did you go to Hertfordshire? After what you have said, I would not have expected you to return there.”

Ah, once again my mouth has been running too freely,
Darcy thought.
I shall have to be more careful. I turn from saying nothing pleasant in unfamiliar company to saying too much among close friends and relatives. I need to find a middle ground. But that is for later…

“No, Aunt Catherine is well enough,” he said, but something in his expression left Georgiana doubtful, and she was quick to leap to an unfortunately accurate assumption.

“Did you quarrel with her? Your expression says that your visit was not pleasant.”

“You are becoming far too perceptive. Of course, I cannot think of anyone who knows me as well as you.”

“What happened? I know you do not enjoy your visits, which is why you do not insist I accompany you. I know Aunt Catherine would like me to visit, but…well, she spends all her time instructing me, and…and…”

“…and her opinions are seldom worthwhile and should not be offered. She does not have the responsibility for your care, though I am sure she thinks she should.”

“Then why do you go?”