Darcy & Elizabeth: A Season of Courtship (Darcy Saga Prequel Duo) (28 page)

“It would behoove you, Mr. Collins,
to hearken to Charlotte’s reminder. Despite what Lady Catherine has shared with
her rector, there is indeed more to the issue than her biased opinion and
skewed facts. No”—she held up her hand when Collins opened his mouth—“I
am not going to say more. You have done your duty, Mr. Collins, in giving
advice and warning. I do appreciate this in the spirit intended, and thank you.”
Never hurts to be magnanimous,
she thought, hiding the cringe inside. “However,
now you must heed my advice and warning: exonerate yourself from being the
watchdog over my relationship with Mr. Darcy.”

“But, Cousin, how can I do that
when it is my obligation to attend to the needs of my flock, especially Lady
Catherine!”

“I daresay you have done an
admirable job for your flock and Lady Catherine, Mr. Collins, and will continue
to do so. Just not in regards to the matter of Mr. Darcy and me. We are to be
married. There is nothing else to be said, and I refuse further discourse,
other than to stress what Mr. Bennet wrote in his letter. You did receive it,
yes?”

“We did,” Charlotte answered when
Mr. Collins flushed and looked down at his shoes.

“Then, as my father suggested,
console your patroness as best you can, sir, but without offending Mr. Darcy in
the process.
That
would be most unwise.”

Saying nothing more to Mr. Collins,
Lizzy turned to Charlotte. Smiling brightly, she grasped her friend’s hands. “Come
walk in the garden with me, Charlotte. The autumn flowers are blooming, and we
extended past the row of lilacs since last you were here.” Chatting warmly,
Lizzy led Charlotte out the door in seconds, neither glancing backward.

Lizzy prattled gaily as they walked
away from the house. Perfectly content to leave the subject of her engagement
alone, she did smile when Charlotte interjected with her congratulations.

“Lizzy, you must know how delighted
I am for you and Mr. Darcy. I think it is wonderful news, if surprising.”

“And here I thought you, of all
people, would be the least surprised! I do believe you were the only person who
suspected Mr. Darcy held affection for me.”

“I did, for a short time. But you
felt sure that it could not be, that he disliked you even. Then, when nothing
came of it while you visited us in the spring, I was sure I had been mistaken.”

“Being mistaken was an epidemic
last spring,” Lizzy admitted, laughing halfheartedly.

Charlotte’s pace slowed, her eyes
on the ground. “Lizzy, I owe you an apology.”

“Nonsense, Charlotte. You are not
responsible for Mr. Collins’s interference or attitude. In fact, I am in your
debt for speaking up just now. I fear Mama was near to fainting!”

“I only spoke the truth as I see
it, Lizzy. Yet that is not what I refer to. Regrettably, if not for me, Mr.
Collins may never have gotten involved in this matter at all.”

Lizzy quizzically knit her brows. “Whatever
do you mean?”

Charlotte sat on a nearby bench and
patted the empty space beside. “One night, during those weeks when Mr. Darcy
called at the parsonage so frequently,” Charlotte explained, “I mentioned the
possibility of Mr. Darcy being in love with you to Mr. Collins. He was quite
distressed by the idea, which greatly surprised me. I told him you laughed at
the notion, convinced that Mr. Darcy disapproved of you far too much to be
partial. This seemed to satisfy him, and we spoke no more. Nor did I speak of
it with you, Lizzy.” She squeezed Lizzy’s hand, her smile warm. “I feared
pressing the idea might endanger you by raising expectations, if indeed your
feelings began to change toward Mr. Darcy, ending in disappointment if you were
correct in his disliking you.”

Charlotte shook her head, Lizzy
detecting confusion within her friend’s eyes. “Honestly, the behavior of you
both puzzled me tremendously, more so when the gentleman left so abruptly,
leaving you clearly depressed. Mr. Collins noted your distraction and wondered
if Mr. Darcy’s departure contributed. The truth is, Lizzy, I wondered the same!
With nothing substantial, Mr. Collins and I said scant more about it.

 “Until, that is, last month
when my mother wrote of Jane’s engagement to Mr. Bingley. She wrote that Mr.
Darcy was again in the area, paying particular attention to you, and presumed a
proposal was eminent. It was then, unbeknownst to me until afterward, that Mr.
Collins reported to Lady Catherine. I am still unsure precisely what transpired
afterward, but am aware she took action in a most unpleasant manner and
continues to be furious. The blame rests on my shoulders for discussing with
Mr. Collins in the first place. Can you ever forgive me?”

Lizzy did her best to maintain a
neutral expression when what she wanted to do was scream. Not out of anger,
however. She could hardly be angry with Charlotte for talking to her husband.
That is what married couples were supposed to do. Nor could she honestly be mad
at Mr. Collins’s role in spreading rumors from the Lucases to Lady Catherine.
Her temper prompted the confrontation with Lizzy and then Darcy, which
eventually brought them together.

No, she wanted to scream from
frustration. Continually being placed on the defensive in regards to her
engagement with Mr. Darcy was maddening. Too many people, from Lady Catherine
to Mr. Collins to Caroline Bingley, were hell-bent on darkening their happiness
or destroying it completely.

Somehow she mustered a smile
convincingly gay and amused. “Really, Charlotte, it no longer matters. Mr.
Darcy and I have hashed over the past misconceptions, and are deliriously
happy. Lady Catherine would be furious no matter how she heard of our
engagement, and trust me when I say that Mr. Darcy can handle his aunt. I do
regret that her attitude has filtered down to you, but it brought you to
Hertfordshire for a spell, so I cannot be sorry even for that.”

They talked then of pleasanter
topics, catching up on local gossip mainly, as well as some female tittering
about the wedding. Lizzy relaxed, she and her oldest friend gradually settling
into their familiar companionship. She forgot Mr. Collins was still in the
house until he appeared on the back porch calling for Charlotte.

“No, stay here, Lizzy.” Charlotte
waved at the garden as she stood. “Mr. Collins and I will be staying at Lucas
Lodge for a time, so I shall have plenty of opportunities to visit.” She bent
to plant a soft kiss on Lizzy’s cheek, whispering, “Preferably alone or with
Maria,” which made them both laugh. Turning away, Charlotte walked several feet
before abruptly stopping and pivoting about. “Oh! I nearly forgot! I have
something for you.” She withdrew a folded paper from her reticule and handed it
to Lizzy.

“A letter from Miss de Bourgh! But…why?”

“Mrs. Jenkinson brought it to me
three days ago. Miss de Bourgh was unsure of your residence and asking Lady
Catherine was out of the question. In fact, according to Mrs. Jenkinson, Miss
de Bourgh feared for the letter if Lady Catherine knew of it, so trusted me to
deliver. Since by then we had decided to leave Hunsford, I carried it rather
than mailing. I do not know what she wrote, Lizzy, but based on what I know of
Miss de Bourgh, it is unlikely to be unpleasant. Quite the opposite, I think.”

Lizzy stared at the sealed paper
for a long while after Charlotte left. Considering Charlotte’s words and
William’s deep affection for his cousin, Lizzy had no reason to fear the
contents of Miss de Bourgh’s letter. Yet, in light of the harsh sentiments that
persistently came, she hesitated.

“Oh bother!” Lizzy muttered and ripped
the wax angrily.

Dear Miss Elizabeth Bennet,

Undoubtedly this direct dispatch
from me will be met with trepidation, so please allow me to immediately ease
your mind. My only purpose in penning these words is to convey my rapture at
your engagement to my cousin. Aware as I am of his compulsory demand for
honesty, surely you are now privy to our special relationship, and that our
affection, while true, has never been of the romantic nature. Long have we
humored Lady Catherine, certain that in time she would surrender the designs
for us to marry. Alas, we erred in estimating the strength of her resolve. I
must not speak as an unfaithful daughter, so cannot write extensively of my
anguish over mother’s reaction to this most blessed news. I pray you believe
how deep my regret at being the center, however unwillingly, of any clouds
obscuring the happiness of this precious time for you and Fitzwilliam.

We spoke only briefly during the
spring, Miss Bennet, yet it was enough for me to hold you in the highest
regard. To me it was apparent that Fitzwilliam cared for you, and I sensed that
you were perfect for him. He is a complex man but has a tender soul and the
kindest heart. With every breath and beat of my heart, I thank the fates for
bringing you to each other, and wish for eternal joy in your lives together. I
have faith that somehow, someday, we will overcome the troubles causing this
tragic rift and will become friends. Until then, trust in your love to sustain,
and know that my thoughts are of nothing but delight.

God’s richest blessings, now and
forever, Anne de Bourgh

Lizzy was unaware tears were
slipping down her cheeks until one fell onto the paper. The balm, today of all
days, in hearing delight expressed over their engagement was worthy of tears.
Anne de Bourgh had perceived their rightness for each other at a time when no
one else could, not even Lizzy. They were hopeful tears. Miss de Bourgh’s
endorsement, along with the delight of Miss Darcy, instilled a measure of hope
that their union would not be universally snubbed by Mr. Darcy’s family.

The tears were also the result of
relinquishing traces of fear that by marrying Mr. Darcy she was hurting his
cousin. Indeed he had explained their relationship, and Lizzy did not doubt his
honesty, but he would not be the first man to misread a woman’s feelings. What
if Miss de Bourgh had loved him and wanted to be his wife? The fact that
William never would have married her—and that it was in one respect no
different than Caroline Bingley wanting to marry him—did not erase the
vague pinch of remorse over dashing a decent, kind lady’s dreams. Miss de
Bourgh’s reassurance was surprisingly liberating.

Sighing, Lizzy refolded the letter
and wiped the wetness from her face. “What a ninny,” she muttered and then
chuckled. More than anything, she acknowledged that she missed William.

No, I actually ache for him…for
William.

Her heart felt weighted, as if each
beat struggled to pump the blood. An odd stupor invaded her muscles—not
exactly paralyzing her limbs, but as if they required an external force to
excite the nerves into motion. Or rather that her entire body was impatiently
waiting for the impetus of a specific entity to move toward.

Of all the times in her life when
parted from members of her family, missing them greatly while being
entertained, Lizzy had never experienced this degree of gloominess. She
suddenly suspected that if Mr. Darcy were to walk around the corner this
second, she might literally dance and sing. Loving a man to this degree was
disconcerting—but also wondrous. Either extremity would take more than
one night to adjust to, Lizzy logically understood, so she shrugged off the
unnerving melancholy and lassitude.

Stepping briskly toward the house,
Lizzy vowed not to mope or brood stupidly during the remaining days until Mr.
Darcy returned. So why did she pause on the threshold, peer into the dimming
sky, sigh wistfully, and inquire of the moon, “Does William ache for me?”

Darcy sat at the large mahogany
table in the conference room of his London solicitor’s offices, a single paper
in his hand. He silently read the final paragraph, added the paper to the stack
by his elbow, and neatly aligned the pile. “Precisely as stipulated, Mr.
Daniels. As I wrote, it is imperative the settlement be generous and Mrs. Darcy’s
security firmly established no matter what the future holds. Thank you for the
experienced suggestions. I can think of nothing further to add.”

“You have been far more generous
than most gentlemen, sir. I am sure Miss Bennet will be pleased and Mr. Bennet
confident that his daughter has chosen wisely. Fathers can be demanding in
their paternal concerns.”

Darcy smiled at the dry statement. “Indeed,
as I suspect you would know. How is your daughter faring?”

“As one expects from a young lady
newly married and in love. Mrs. Daniels and I are content in her choice.”

“Glad to hear it.” Darcy handed the
sheaf of documents to his solicitor. “Notify me when those are ready for my
signature.”

“I will have my clerks compile
today. Would tomorrow morning at eleven fit into your schedule?”