Jane Austen's Pride & Prejudice Sequel Bundle: 3 Reader Favorites (170 page)

Despite his irritation, Darcy had not expected the rabid vitriol of his aunt’s attack against his fiancée. The letter she sent in answer to his news was lengthy and malicious. First she had responded to his announcement with a scathing denouncement of his character. According to her, he had
betrayed his dear mother’s memory by callously abandoning Anne to spinsterhood.
She said he was
selfish, irresponsible, and a black mark on the ancient house of Darcy.
There was much more and it did hurt; however, he was a self-confident man who knew the truth about his own character, so he could mainly ignore his aunt’s horrid words. It was when she viciously condemned Elizabeth personally that he responded with outrage and steely resolve. Lady Catherine had assaulted his honor as a gentleman and accountability as husband and protector of his wife, and he was beyond offended.

Lizzy never knew the full content of Lady Catherine’s letter. She probably would not have known the letter existed if she had not been at Netherfield the day it arrived. Darcy and Bingley were playing chess while the ladies sat
nearby when the footman brought the gentlemen the day’s post. Darcy’s stack was large, as always, due to the numerous business interests he managed. He flipped through it quickly stopping with a frown upon spying his aunt’s hand. It had been a week since his engagement and his letter had only posted four days ago, so he was surprised at the haste of her reply and even that she had replied at all.

Later he would condemn himself for not having the foresight to open the letter in private or for not controlling his temper. As he read his face darkened visibly, eyes as black agates and lips pressed into the thin line signifying tremendous anger. Forgetting where he was in his wrath, he jerked from his chair uttering a vile curse and stormed from the room. Needless to say, the three other occupants of the room were stunned speechless.

Bingley had more experience with his friend’s temper, so he recovered quickly, stammering to assure the ladies that all would be well. After a moment of paralysis, Lizzy rose to follow Darcy. He had disappeared from sight, but the blanched face of a maid down the hall was indication enough of the direction he had taken.

She found him in the library, staring out a window. At first glance he seemed calm, but in the short time of their acquaintance, Lizzy had learned to recognize the signs of tension in his body—and never had he been as tense as he was at this moment. Fury emanated from him in nearly visible waves. Lizzy approached him silently and gently laid her hand on his arm.

He jolted in surprise and looked at her with such ferocity on his face that she flinched. “Leave me be, Elizabeth,” he commanded flatly in a voice that brooked no argument.

Nonetheless, she refused. “No,” she said firmly, “Talk to me, William.” He stared at her in shocked ire at her refusal and then turned his gaze to the window. He fluttered the letter in the air. “My aunt is not pleased about our engagement,” he said with massive understatement.

Lizzy surprised him further by actually laughing, and his scowl increased. “I find no humor in this, Elizabeth.”

“Really, William! Did you imagine she would embrace me with open arms and host a party? Lady Catherine made her opinion of me quite clear at Longbourn, an event that we should essentially be thankful for since, left to your own devices, you may not have gotten up the nerve to propose again.” She said the last bit teasingly and rose onto her toes to kiss one cheek while caressing the other. He continued to stare at her, clearly torn between crushing
her into his arms or further ranting about the letter. In the end he did neither. He sighed and walked several paces away before turning back to look at her. He was in turmoil and had no idea what to say.

Lizzy moved a bit closer to him but kept a space, sensing he needed some distance. “William, I am indifferent to what your aunt has to say about me or us. I love you with all my heart and you love me. She cannot alter that, can she?”

“Of course not!” he said in a strangled tone.

“She is angry at her dashed hopes for you and Anne. I am not a mother yet, however, I can partly sympathize. It does in no way justify her actions or words, but you must try to understand a little.”

Darcy shook his head. “Elizabeth, it is more than that. She has slandered you personally, your character and virtue and qualifications as my intended. This I cannot forgive.”

She drew closer before replying softly, “Did you not initially doubt my qualifications and connections, beloved?” His countenance paled and his mouth fell open at her words, and she rapidly closed the gap, taking his beloved face into her hands so he would not turn away. “The difference is that you now know my character and virtue and you love me. The only truth that matters is us and our love. The rest will resolve itself or it will not, but it is inconsequential as long as we are unified in our commitment.”

Darcy sighed again and rested his forehead against hers, arms enfolding her. “How are you so wise, my love, for one so young?”

She smiled impishly and kissed him lightly. “It is a secret, Mr. Darcy. You cannot expect a girl to reveal all too soon can you? Then where would the mystery be?”

He laughed. “Very well. I shall let Lady Catherine stew and rage if she must; however, I refuse to listen.”

Darcy waited a couple of weeks before he addressed his aunt. His letter was blunt and formal. In language that permitted no error, he informed her that he would forever revere her as his mother’s sister but that his loyalty was to Elizabeth. Until she accepted this incontrovertible fact and rendered his betrothed the esteem due her as Mistress of Pemberley and Mrs. Darcy, she would not be welcome in his life.

Unbeknownst to him at the time, Lady Catherine had been busy spreading her disgust to Lord and Lady Matlock, and anyone else who was willing to listen. The news of Mr. Darcy’s engagement had disseminated expeditiously through
the ton, rumors galore based on little in the way of truth. Darcy’s supreme happiness conjoined with his general disdain for London society was such that he gave no consideration to what gossip may be circulating. The opinion of his uncle and aunt was another matter. In both instances, he confidently believed that Elizabeth’s charms would eventually prevail. The fortuitous trip to Town presented the opportunity for him to introduce his fiancée to the rest of his mother’s family.

Upon arriving with the Bennets, Richard informed Darcy of the letters from Lady Catherine to his parents and the confusion they harbored over Darcy’s choice of bride. Col. Fitzwilliam had sung the praises of Elizabeth and made no secret of the love Darcy felt for his bride-to-be. The Fitzwilliams cared very much for their nephew and they trusted the opinion of their son, so they were willing to forestall jumping to any conclusions. All the same, Lord Matlock was prepared to forcefully remind Darcy of his duties to Pemberley if his choice of wife was as poor as Lady Catherine intimated. The Earl was a realist and the patriarch of a noble family. Love and romance have their place, but not at the expense of tradition, duty, and honor to one’s name, country, and ancestry.

On their fifth evening in Town, Lizzy and her father accompanied Mr. Darcy to the Matlock townhouse for dinner. Strangely, Lizzy was not at all nervous. Perhaps it was her naïveté, but truly it was simply her nature and character to not be intimidated. Darcy observed her sunny face and gay personality as she chatted with him and Mr. Bennet in the carriage and his pride and love swelled. She was amazing. So fearless and brave, so vibrant and luminous. If his uncle and aunt disapproved… well, they would be fools and he knew they were not fools.

Per Darcy’s behest, the dinner party was to be an informal one—just the immediate Fitzwilliam family to meet Lizzy and Mr. Bennet. Aside from the necessity of being introduced to Lord and Lady Matlock, Darcy wished for his betrothed to become reacquainted with his cousin Richard. The Darcy and Fitzwilliam families were generational friends, their affection and accord preceding by decades the marriage of Lady Anne Fitzwilliam to James Darcy.

Richard, three years Darcy’s senior, was his oldest playmate and confidant, the two nigh on inseparable when younger. More so even than with his aunt or uncle, it was desirous that Richard and Lizzy grow comfortable with each other. Darcy was not too concerned, the two having already established a rapport in Kent. In fact, at the time the native charm and ebullience of Col. Fitzwilliam, in sharp contrast to his own reticence, had been mildly irritating. Observing the
easy familiarity that arose between the woman he loved and his cousin would have birthed a raging jealousy if he did not know Richard’s strong abhorrence to the very idea of marriage!

Joining them would be the eldest Fitzwilliam brother and heir to the Matlock earldom, Jonathan, and his wife Priscilla. Darcy had never been close to his older cousin, but there was a fondness nonetheless and he was pleased to have Jonathan as part of the party. Darcy’s youngest cousin, Annabella, was not able to attend, her Society duties as Lady Montgomery preferable to meeting her cousin’s country fiancée. Not that she voiced this opinion in such blunt language, but Darcy well knew Annabella’s superior attitude to be everything once accused of him.

Introductions were made in the imposing foyer of the Matlock townhouse near St. James’s Square, the party then gathering in the parlor for a short spell before dinner. Lord Matlock was dazzled immediately by Miss Bennet’s charm and liveliness. Lady Matlock was equally captivated, but her gaze rested most often on the face of her dearly loved nephew, marveling at the animation and peace that infused his countenance even as he maintained his typical reserve. It was no mystery why Darcy had succumbed to her, Miss Bennet being as gregarious as he was taciturn. They say opposites attract, and here was a clear example of the old adage, as well as a visible illustration of how love opens one’s soul.

Mr. Bennet was the archetypical country gentleman. Proper to be sure, but somewhat irreverent, intelligent, and with a piquant wit and wry humor. Lord Matlock, for all his elevated rank, was the master of a country estate and appreciated men such as Mr. Bennet for their unpretentious mannerisms. In no time at all, the two men were engaged in a friendly discourse of modern literature versus the classics.

Dinner was a lively affair with conversation flowing from all sides. Lord Matlock and Mr. Bennet conversed easily on numerous topics, with Lizzy joining in frequently. Col. Fitzwilliam, always full of stories and anecdotes, kept them entertained and even managed to elicit a laugh or two from his sober brother and pompous sister-in-law. Darcy was content to placidly observe his fiancée enchant his relatives, contributing now and then to the general conversation.

Retiring again to the parlor after dinner, the atmosphere relaxed further. Some light entertainment was engaged in, Mrs. Fitzwilliam being quite accomplished on the pianoforte, but primarily it was an amiable setting for
deeper communication as they sipped tea and brandy. Lady Matlock spoke adoringly of Derbyshire and Pemberley, reminiscing to Lizzy of her own days as a new bride relocating to an unfamiliar land.

“You have seen Pemberley, I am taken to understand?” Lizzy affirmed Lady Matlock’s inquiry. “It may seem imposing, Miss Bennet, but the Darcys have made it a home. And never fear, Fitzwilliam is the soul of patience and kindness. You will be most happy there, I am sure.”

Lizzy blushed faintly. “Thank you, Your Ladyship. I am anticipation itself. I have no doubts that Mr. Darcy will lead me gently.”

She smiled up at her betrothed, who stood nearby with Richard at his side. He smiled faintly in return, eyes sparkling.

Richard nodded, his eyes mischievous as he gazed to his cousin’s face. “Indeed, Mr. Darcy is patience personified. All can attest to the fact. Even his horses declare it so!” They collectively laughed, Darcy blushing slightly but meeting Richard’s teasing gaze.

“Sadly a lesson I could never impart to you, cousin. Your horses habitually choose to throw you rather than listen to instruction.”

“That happened one time, and I was fifteen and the horse refused to jump that creek!” He turned to Lizzy with a chuckle and sly glance toward Darcy. “He, braggart, was twelve with a horse larger than mine and cleared the creek without hesitation! Very well, I concede. You are the superior horseman. I, on the other hand, excel at dancing and witty conversation.”

“You are now witness, Miss Bennet, to what shall henceforth pervade your existence whenever these two are in the same room together.” Lady Matlock interjected with a laugh. “They delight in baiting the other, have since they were children, and likely will be doing so in their senility.”

“Miss Bennet knows it to be true, having confessed to me the dreadfulness of William’s dancing and conversation in Hertfordshire.”

Lizzy laughed gaily. “Colonel! You tease as well as color the truth. I said that Mr. Darcy refused to dance, not that he danced poorly. He quite proved his skill at the Netherfield Ball, dancing with the grace of a gazelle.”

“Grace of a gazelle? High praise, indeed. Is this true, Fitzwilliam?” Lord Matlock grinned at his nephew’s discomfiture.

Darcy coughed, color high but face alit with humor as he gazed upon his impish fiancée, “Miss Bennet is being generous, as always. I managed to avoid stepping on her feet or making a total fool of myself, but in my particular case it remains fortunate
that dancing skills and engaging repartee are not the only inducements to affection.”

They all smiled and chuckled, even Jonathan. “Quite so,” he offered. “I abhor dancing and socializing more so than you, William, and that is saying something, yet my wife tolerates me. One’s beguilements and personality can be well hidden secrets for only select individuals to divine.”

“I concur, Mr. Fitzwilliam,” Lizzy nodded. “Rather like a fine bottle of aged red wine. The cork must be removed; the wine poured out and allowed to breathe. One must wait patiently for the aroma to rise in the air to captivate those who wish to partake of its delights. The wine warms in the glass as the flavor softens and mellows, exposing its true essence.” She paused, her gaze locked on Darcy’s startled but tender eyes as he focused on her to the exclusion of all others in the room. “Some people are structured so and are abundantly worth the wait,” she finished in a soft whisper.