The Perfect Bride for Mr. Darcy (5 page)

The morning after Mr. Darcy’s proposal, Elizabeth was able to leave Hunsford Lodge only after satisfying the Collinses that she was well enough to go on her morning walk. She was eager to get out of the house and away from her friend’s probing looks. Charlotte had seen Mr. Darcy leaving the parsonage the previous afternoon, but Lizzy had said nothing about his visit and had kept to her room after supper. She intended to share what had happened with Charlotte, but not now. She needed time alone to think.

To silence Mr. Collins and hasten her escape, Lizzy mentioned that she wished to begin the study of
Fordyce’s Sermons
. Mr. Collins had made a gift of the book earlier in the week when he came upon her reading a novel, a book he considered inappropriate for an unmarried woman to be reading without the supervision and guidance of her father. He would have been appalled to learn that she had read
Tom Jones
and
Tristram Shandy
in the library at Longbourn without any supervision and at the recommendation of her father. Finally, after multiple assurances regarding her health, the weather, distances, etc., she was allowed to leave the parsonage and immediately went in search of a place where she could reflect upon the events of the previous day.

Rosings Park had beautiful vistas at every turn, but Lizzy’s favorite was where woods and pastureland met. The contrast of the dark greens of the forest and the lush bright greens of the pastures made it a favorite stop, and at this slice of Eden, the de Bourghs had placed stone benches paralleling the path. It was the perfect place for reflection, but she was not to be alone this morning, as sitting on one of the benches was Mr. Darcy. It was too late to turn away because he had already seen her, so she pretended to be engrossed in her book so he might pretend not to have noticed her. But she soon realized his being in this particular spot was no accident. He quickly approached, and after asking her to do him the honor of reading his letter, he just as quickly departed.

After seeing Mr. Darcy well down the lane, Lizzy turned her full attention to his letter, and after finishing it, had to restrain herself from tearing it to shreds and scattering it to the winds. What pride and insolence! His purpose was clear: He wished to put behind him forever all memories of the scene at Hunsford Lodge. In this, they were in complete agreement. His words still echoed in her mind: how he had struggled to overcome his feelings for her, the inferiority of her connections, rejoicing in his success in separating Bingley from Jane, her pride, his shame. But before he could close the door on this chapter of his life, he demanded her attention one last time in order to justify his actions and refute her assertions.

For several minutes, Lizzy watched as a hundred black-faced sheep moved into the glade with three border collies nipping at their heels. The shepherd walked behind the flock, leaving the dogs to do their work. Was there such a view at Pemberley? Of course there was. The landed gentry and aristocracy all had the same things: great houses with portrait galleries and magnificent art, ballrooms and music rooms, gazebos and terraces, lower gardens, upper gardens, servants in livery behind every door. Yes, she could easily picture such a scene at Pemberley. And to think she might have been mistress of such an estate. Lizzy, who loved to laugh at the ridiculous, might have seen the humor in all of this if her emotions were not so raw.

Calmly, or so she believed, she began to reread Mr. Darcy’s letter from his point of view. It was easy to understand why he had started his letter by saying that there would be no repetition of his proposal. He was a proud man who believed he had honored Lizzy by making her an offer of marriage. She had wounded him, and he had lashed out at its source.

Then there was Mr. Darcy’s confession that he had willingly, knowingly, almost gleefully, separated Bingley from Jane. As a defense, he wrote that Bingley was often in love. That had given her pause. Often in love? Yes, she could see how that was possible. As a handsome and charming young man in possession of a large fortune, Bingley must have been sought out by many of the young ladies in London, and he could very well have imagined himself to be in love with some of them. In that regard, it was not unreasonable for Mr. Darcy to have believed that Jane was just another pretty face who had caught Bingley’s eye. And did Jane’s natural humility and modesty create the impression that there was little affection on her part as evidenced by Mr. Darcy’s statement that “the most acute observer would draw the conclusion that her heart was not likely to be easily touched”?

The next part of the letter was particularly painful. Lizzy could hardly bring herself to reread Mr. Darcy’s description of the behavior of her mother and sisters. But what did he write that was not true? Her mother, in her understandable concern to see her daughters well married, acted inappropriately in her search for the family’s savior: the man who would rescue the Bennet sisters from the consequences of the entail. After Darcy had learned that there was a general belief that Bingley and Jane were to become engaged, he did everything he could to separate the couple. But was that not something a true friend would do?

And then there was the matter of Mr. Wickham. If Mr. Darcy was unable to judge the depth of Jane’s regard for Mr. Bingley, then she had failed in discovering Wickham’s true nature. In light of the events revealed in his letter, she knew in her heart that all he had written was true. She remembered, with embarrassment, how eager Wickham had been to expose the defects of Mr. Darcy’s character, and didn’t Jane warn her to be skeptical of Wickham’s assertions, wondering how it was possible that Darcy’s intimate friend could be so deceived as to his true nature? And was there any greater proof of Wickham’s true character than his actions regarding sixteen-year-old Georgiana Darcy? It was impossible to believe that a brother would invent such a sordid tale and then share it with another.

Elizabeth removed her bonnet, hoping the breeze would clear her mind of all the horrible things she had said to Mr. Darcy regarding Wickham, including the accusation that he was responsible for Wickham’s current state of poverty. As for Jane, it was true he had greatly injured her, but now she realized it was never his intention to cause Jane any pain. His actions were dictated by his concerns for his friend.

With the sun on her face, it was all becoming clearer—why Mr. Darcy had followed her movements at Lucas Lodge, his asking her to dance at Netherfield, his visits to the parsonage, his meeting her on her daily walks, and his words at Rosings while she played the pianoforte: “No one admitted to the privilege of hearing you can think anything wanting.” And most of all, his declaration of love: “You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”

Lizzy refolded the letter. At the ball at Netherfield, Mr. Darcy had asked that she not sketch his character as there was reason to fear “that the performance would reflect no credit on either of them.” Oh, how true that statement was! She had refused to see any good in him because of the unkind remarks he had made at the assembly. As for his part, he had honored her with a proposal of marriage, but found it necessary to remind her of her inferior position in society and the failings of her family.

Her emotions were in turmoil. From the time she came into Kent, she had learned so much about him, and if she had not been so blinded by prejudice, she would have seen a very different Mr. Darcy from the gentleman she knew in Hertfordshire. His cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, held him in the highest regard and spoke of an amiable and conversant Mr. Darcy when amongst his friends. Despite his aunt’s overbearing nature, he visited Rosings because Lady Catherine was his mother’s sister, and as such, was deserving of his attention, and Lizzy suspected, by looks exchanged between them, that he had a good relationship with Anne de Bourgh when her mother was not about. But was there anything that showed him in a better light than his affection and concern for his sister and the fear that must have gripped him when he believed he had lost her to a man with no scruples?

Lizzy walked the lane, trying to sort through all the images flashing before her. If things had gone differently, could she have loved him? After reflecting on the whole of their history together, she realized that, over time, she could have. She would have chipped away at his hard shell and would have softened his look. If only they had been able to break through the barriers that separated them, his pride and her prejudice, yesterday would have ended very differently.

When Lizzy arrived at the parsonage, she sat down on a bench outside the front door of the house. She read the letter once again, but with understanding and not in anger. A wave of regret passed over her as she realized what had been lost. Clutching the letter to her breast, she felt the tears well up in her eyes, and through her tears she looked up towards the manor house and wondered if Mr. Darcy was still there. Considering the tone of his letter, that was unlikely. So there would be no more encounters in the park or visits to the parsonage. Her acquaintance with Mr. Darcy of Pemberley had come to its dramatic conclusion.

Lizzy was in her room lying on the bed staring at the ceiling. After sharing with Charlotte the awful scene that had taken place in her parlor, her friend had tried to lift her spirits by suggesting that once Mr. Darcy had time to recover from the hurt of her rejection, he might renew his attentions. But when Lizzy acquainted Charlotte with the contents of his letter, she suggested that they go into the village and think of other things.

Lizzy kept Mr. Darcy’s letter under her pillow, but no longer needed to look at it as she could now recite it from memory. “I write without any intention of paining you, or humbling myself, by dwelling on wishes, which, for the happiness of both, cannot be too soon forgotten.”

Despite Mr. Darcy’s hopes, Lizzy doubted that either of them would soon forget what had been said, and the angry words she spoke still echoed in her mind. “You could not have made me the offer of your hand in any possible way that would have tempted me to accept it.” She groaned and turned on her side. If she expected Mr. Darcy to examine his actions, then she must do the same. This whole sorry affair was not about Jane or Wickham; it was about Elizabeth Bennet and her wounded pride. She had shut her eyes to all that might be good in him. When Jane said Mr. Bingley doubted the truth of Mr. Wickham’s story, she refused to hear it. She would not listen to anything that challenged her assumptions. At the Netherfield ball, she chided Mr. Darcy for his lack of conversation, but when he suggested sharing their opinions on books, she refused. “No, I cannot talk of books in a ballroom. My head is always full of something else.”
So go away and leave me alone, so I might think about George Wickham
.

Lizzy stood up, ran her hands over the creases in her dress, and returned her curls to their rightful place. Revisiting the scene time and again was doing her no good, so she decided to join Charlotte in the parlor. As she was going down the stairs, she heard the bell ring, and fearing for a moment that it might be Mr. Darcy with another letter, she went back upstairs.
Please, no more letters!
One is quite enough.
However it was not Mr. Darcy, but Miss Anne de Bourgh, and she quickly returned to her room. A few minutes later, a servant knocked on the door to let her know that Miss de Bourgh was waiting for her downstairs. When Lizzy went into the parlor, she found her visitor was all alone.

“It is very good to see you again, Miss Elizabeth,” she said, giving a slight bow, which Lizzy returned. “Mrs. Collins excused herself, as she needed to discuss the household accounts with her housekeeper, but she has ordered tea for us.”

While Miss de Bourgh was removing her cloak, Lizzy noticed what fine features she had: thick, dark brown hair; beautiful, flawless skin; clear, blue eyes with long dark lashes; and the high cheekbones so favored by painters, but she also saw how she appeared to be as fragile as a porcelain doll.

“Miss Elizabeth, may we sit nearer to the fire? I am quite chilled from the ride.”

Lizzy moved a chair closer to the fireplace and offered her guest one of Charlotte’s heavier quilts. The day before, Charlotte had taken them out of the storage chest, guessing correctly that the warm temperatures could not last.

“I hope you do not object to my unannounced visit. Since my cousins, Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam, are now gone, the house is quite empty—and silent. And I miss conversation. I very much enjoyed listening to you when you joined us for supper. You have such a sparkling wit.”

“I do not think your cousin, Mr. Darcy, would agree with that assessment.”

“Oh, I can assure you that you are wrong. He found your conversation to be engaging, even challenging. You gave him pause for thought, and in several instances, got the better of him—something quite new to his experience.”

Lizzy rose to help the servant with the tea, but she also needed time to reflect on what was happening. Charlotte had deliberately made herself scarce because Lizzy knew that Monday was the day when she went over the household accounts with Mrs. Elvin. Today was Thursday. For whatever reason, Miss de Bourgh wanted to speak to Lizzy in private.

“Shall we dispense with the formalities? If I may call you Elizabeth, you may call me Anne.” Lizzy smiled and nodded her assent. “I understand you are shortly to return home, and I did not want to miss an opportunity to visit with you before you left.”

Anne picked up the teacup and clasped her hands around it for warmth. After taking a sip, which she needed because she was shivering, she continued.

“Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Darcy, or Richard and Will, as I call them, are like brothers to me, and I shall miss them. We are very fond of each other and have been since we were children. Along with Richard’s elder brother, Lord Fitzwilliam, we are all very close in age, and we spent hours together in the playroom at Rosings. It is quite large—large enough to have a theatre for plays and a stage for puppetry, and our seamstress made the most wonderful costumes, each one having lots of feathers. We were very keen on feathers. We wrote the plays ourselves, and according to my father, Lord de Bourgh, the boys always kept the funniest lines for themselves.”

Lizzy smiled at the thought of Mr. Darcy and the colonel on the stage. What would their plays have been about? Pirates, of course. Boys always wanted to be pirates with eye patches, earrings, and swords. Or possibly knights in shining armor with Anne playing the damsel in distress.

“When Will was at Cambridge, Richard and I went to see him play cricket,” Anne continued. “He is a superior batsman, and to this day, he will boast of the time when his
alma mater
defeated Eton in two contests within a period of three days,” Anne said, smiling at the memory. “Did he ever mention it when he was in Hertfordshire?”

“No, he did not. Our only opportunity to speak was on the dance floor—not the best place to learn about your partner, and Mr. Darcy left Netherfield Park shortly thereafter.”

“How unfortunate—for both of you. Perhaps there will be other opportunities.”

Not if Mr. Darcy had any say in it
, Lizzy thought.

“As I have said, he is very much like a brother to me, and when I find myself quite overpowered by my mother, I need only send a letter to Will, and he will come and rescue me. Before Mama leased our house in town, we spent many happy hours together during the season in London. I am not very strong, and I cannot dance more than one or two dances. But even though all the ladies were making such a fuss over him, Will was never far from my side.

“Because of my health and the distance, I do not often visit the Darcy estate, but I have very fond memories of long summer days in Derbyshire. But, of course, now that Will is the master of Pemberley, everything is changed from when we were children. He holds himself to a very high standard. It is he who must visit all of the tenants. It is he who must know how many lambs were born in the spring and how much grain was gathered at harvest time. His tenants hold him in the highest regard, as do the villagers. He can hardly walk down High Street without people rushing out of the shops to greet him, and if you allowed him, the vicar would go on and on, singing his praises about his generosity and kindness to those in need.

“And with all of these responsibilities, he tells me they are nothing compared to that of being his sister’s guardian. He is quite devoted to her. Georgiana is eighteen now, and as you can imagine, is very eager to come into society. He has done everything he can to prepare her. It was almost laughable to see him with her at the milliner’s shop. But she insists on hearing his opinion, as she is equally devoted to him.”

Lizzy thought back to an evening at Netherfield Park when Caroline Bingley had asked Mr. Darcy if he admired her new bonnet. “Miss Bingley, as you well know, you will wear what is currently in fashion, and when it is out of fashion, you will stop wearing it. So if I said I liked your bonnet today, I might find come next spring that I must say that I do not like it. Wear what pleases you. I have no interest in such things.” And, yet, Anne was saying Mr. Darcy went with his sister to the milliner’s shop. Lizzy could just picture him, crossing and uncrossing his legs, and drumming his fingers on the top of his hat, when he was not pacing the floor. Lizzy wondered if he would have done the same for her if she had accepted him.

“There are so many people who look up to him that I think the weight of his responsibilities has taken some of the joy out of his life. With so much to do and at such great distances, I have noticed he has less patience and his speech can be brusque and, therefore, easily misunderstood.” Leaning towards Lizzy, Anne added, with tears in her eyes, “He truly is the best of men, and it would pain me to think there was someone out there in the wider world who thought ill of him because they do not know him as I do.”

Lizzy now understood the purpose of the visit. There was no doubt Mr. Darcy had shared with his cousin that he had made her an offer of marriage and her rejection of it. Her presence confirmed that he had related the details of the scene that had played out in this very parlor, and Anne was determined that before Lizzy returned to Hertfordshire, she would hear about the Mr. Darcy she knew and loved.

Lizzy could hardly look at Anne. There was such longing in her face, and she wanted to reassure her. But what could she say? She sat quietly staring into the fire, and it was several minutes before the words finally came. When they did, they came from her heart.

“Anne, I admit that when I first met Mr. Darcy he puzzled me exceedingly, and as you say, he can be brusque. But I have learned a great deal about him since those first days in Hertfordshire. I cannot speak for others, but I can assure you that I do not think ill of him.”

Anne let out a sigh of relief. “I shall tell you, Elizabeth, that Mr. Darcy improves upon acquaintance, and when next you meet, you will find him to be a much more agreeable fellow.”

“That is a most unlikely event. Mr. Darcy and I do not move in the same circles in town, and it is my understanding that it is Mr. Bingley’s intention to quit Netherfield Park, which means I will not see him in the country either.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Life holds so many surprises,” Anne said, standing up. Although she was clearly tired from the visit, she looked quite content while Lizzy looked much less so. “May I write to you, Elizabeth?”

“Of course, if I may write to you.”

Taking Lizzy’s hands in hers, she said, “I shall not say good-bye because I am quite confident we will meet again.”

As soon as Anne’s phaeton turned down the lane, Charlotte came rushing into the parlor. “Lizzy, what was that all about? When Miss de Bourgh asked if she could speak to you alone, I thought you had earned the ire of her mother, and she had come to warn you.”

“No, nothing like that,” Lizzy said, shaking her head. “When Miss de Bourgh learned I was to return home, she wanted to visit with me before I left Kent.”

“But you were in there for more than half of an hour. What was discussed?”

“Little of importance, except how life does have its twists and turns, and that certainly is true. However, one can predict the future with some degree of accuracy based on one’s own knowledge of past events. And rare events do occur, but it is their lack of repetition that makes them rare.” Was it really possible that she would see Mr. Darcy again?

“Lizzy, what on earth are you talking about?”

“I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.”