Unbidden, a vision of Elizabeth clothed in her pale golden gown, smiling, swept over his vision, replacing his view of Lady Catherine’s strong features, momentarily stealing his breath.The Bennet poverty!How he despised it! Elizabeth was wealthy in ample portions of beauty and wit, desirable in every other way. How was it possible that her parents should have permitted her to yoke herself to a fool?
“I admit, his decision to purchase a licence and marry her quickly does not show his frugality in the best light,” she said, still scanning the page. “But her mother insisted the wedding take place swiftly, and he thought it wise not to appear reluctant. Her father—although he had quite a bit to say about it—yielded to her wishes.”
The thought of Elizabeth suffering the meaty paws of Collins upon her person caused a sudden wave of nausea to roll through him. Her mother!Certainlyher mother had insisted upon the match; the woman thought of nothing except marrying off her daughters and preserving her standing in the community. Her father would want his Longbourn estate to remain in the family. Elizabeth was simply a victim of her parents’ greed.
“Foolish man!” Lady Catherine smiled benignly. “He is impatient to fill his nursery, but who could blame him! Especially if she is as lovely as he claims, his haste is understandable. Ah, whatever you think of my age, I, too, remember what it was like to be young and impetuous! On my wedding day, Sir Lewis—although several inches shorter than I,wassuchan eager groom, withsucha creative mind, andsuchflexibility?—”
Darcy abruptly stood, sending his chair screeching back at least a foot. “If you will excuse me madam,” he said, interrupting any possibility of hearing more. “I have urgent business in town and must take my leave. You will allow Mr Twitchard to prune, to pluck, to chop the blasted orchard down if he sees fit, and henceforth stay out of his way.”
“But Darcy, you cannot have come all this way only to turn around and leave within the hour! It is impossible! Ridiculous! You have not yet seen Anne! She will be so disappointed to have missed you!”
Since Anne had about as much interest in him as he did in hearing of Sir Lewis’s elasticity, he gave leave to doubt. “You will convey her my apologies,” he replied, and strode from the room.
CHAPTER TWO
Darcy could not, in fact, justify an immediate return to town—subjecting his cattle, coachman, valet, and footman to a lengthy return journey on a frigid, nearly moonless night—but he managed to get them nearly two hours away before stopping. The Golden Fleece was a bustling coaching inn, respectable in appearance, obviously conducting a brisk trade. The innkeeper hastened to ready rooms—but once Darcy was safely ensconced in one, he found himself with too much time to think.
His thoughts were not comforting.
ElizabethCollins!
It is awful.The toady vicar has overreached himself.Heshould not be able to claim a bride whomIam unable to touch!
Darcy wanted her, oh yes. He was a man of the world, and hardly a green one. He had wanted before—but not like this. It was necessary, for a man in his position, to bridle his lusts in most cases. He knew how, and had always considered himself a proven master of the art.
The worst part about wanting Elizabeth was the masteryshehad over him.
Whenever she had walked into the room, he was unable to do aught but give her his attention, all of it, to wonder what next shewould say, to see her hold her own and then surpass everyone in wit and cleverness. Whether it was the insipid Miss Caroline Bingley or the foolish Sir William Lucas, she managed every conversation with keen intelligence and appealing charisma. No matter how dull the entertainment, once he was certain she would attend, nothing else signified. He had graced more parlours in the final two weeks of his visit to Netherfield than he had in the year previous.
He had known he should not ask her to dance at Bingley’s ball; it had been foolish. It might have given her ideas—he never danced with anyone with whom doing so might create expectation of anything more. Had it been London, the whispers of his interest in Elizabeth might even now be causing gossip in the papers or caricatures in the broadsheets. That he had defied sense and reason, that he had gone and done the thing regardless, was likely a good part of the reason Miss Bingley had pressed him so hard, to take her brother and depart Netherfield; Bingley’s infatuation with Elizabeth’s elder sister was the least of it. Miss Bingley knewherbirth was not high enough to suit him, but she felt her fortune made her Elizabeth’s equal, or even superior. To see his obvious interest in someone she thought of as a lesser rival had exacerbated her usual jealousy. She had done all she could to encourage both men to bolt.
Proper matrimonial conduct had been drilled into his mind and upbringing since boyhood, and had only intensified from the time of his sister’s birth—Georgianamustbe amply provided for, and hemustreplace her settlement with his wife’s. Especially with the current state of his finances, it was more important than ever that the family’s fortunes be sheltered. Three years in a row of unseasonably frigid temperatures had affected the yields of his tenants. Returns were low; he had been required to forgive some debts he had not wished to forgive.
Pemberley had not, as yet, suffered. The spar mines were still very profitable. But his fortunes ultimately depended upon the prosperity of his tenants, andtheirfortunes depended upon fickle weather. Marriage to Elizabeth would cost him a minimum of thirty thousand in an absent settlement to replace Georgiana’s, and untold losses in connexions and consequence. The legacy of fortune—Pemberley itself—he had always been taught, must come first. Never mind his uncle’s lectures; the earl had been throwing introductions at him for a few years now, trying to pair him with one young lady or another of his cronies, in the hopes of shoring up his own consequence. The last, he recalled, had been the granddaughter of a marquess—hersettlement had been fifty thousand.
Of course, she had been a chinless, spineless ninny, and thirty minutes in her company had convinced him that they ought to double her portion if they wanted any takers. Nevertheless, he could not imagine telling the Earl of Matlock that his bride was an impoverished country lass who added precisely nothing to his own consequence, never mind the earl’s.
He did not sleep well that night.
It was not because of Elizabeth, he told himself. Her life was no business of his, and while he regretted her lack of choices, those were not his problem. His sleeplessness was the inn’s fault—although they pretended their accommodations were superior, the mattresses were not quite plump enough, the linens not soft enough, the walls not thick enough.
Before dawn, he gave up, and woke his man. Within the hour they were on the road. Well before noon, he was in hiscomfortable home on Curzon Street, in his comfortable study, eating a more-than-comfortable meal prepared by expert hands.
It tasted like dust in his mouth.What is the matter with me?
A tap on his door happily interrupted his bleak thoughts. His butler, Childers, reported unexpected news—Bingley was waiting for him in the library. Bingley’s affable, cheerful manner was just what he needed to restore his spirits. Surely he was no longer moping about, mourning the absence of Miss Bennet? Languishing was not in Bingley’s nature, not even at the worst of times. Eagerly, Darcy abandoned his half-hearted attempt at breakfasting and went to welcome his friend.
CHAPTER THREE
Bingley sat—or rather sprawled—across Darcy’s leather sofa, the picture of discontent.
“I say, Darcy,” he said, by way of greeting. “I think I ought to go back.”
“We have talked of this,” Darcy replied, sighing, and wishing he had not been quite so quick to return to town. “You are young, and have many years before you need acquire a leg-shackle. You have already raised expectations by your attentions to Miss Bennet. It was the country, not town; one cannot pay such obvious attentions to a lady without creating talk. I saw no evidence that she shared your sentiments, but that will not matter. You remove all her choices if you hover around her endlessly—she will be accused of flirtation if she does not agree to a match. Do you not want a wife who wishes tobeyour wife?”
“Of course I do!” He made a broad, sweeping gesture with his arm, encompassing the whole of his surroundings. “But nothing means anything without her. She may not have returned my feelings yet, but I was making progress, I know it! I was not alone in my sentiment!”
Darcy looked pityingly at his friend. A grasping, clutching shrew like Mrs Bennet would have instructed her daughter on how to manipulate young Bingley.
