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CHAPTER 11

Geoffrey Collins commanded the full attention of everyone in the room with his confrontational approach towards Darcy and his ensuing verbal attack. “I insist you do not encourage the young child in his fanciful beliefs. You do so to the child’s own detriment.”

Darcy regarded the gentleman as one might expect he would towards such an insolent stranger, “I beg your pardon. Who are you to address me so?”

Mr. William Collins nearly tripped over himself as he scrambled to Darcy’s side and bowed as low as he possibly could, attempting to make up for his brother’s lack of regard for the privilege of receiving Mr. Darcy himself at his humble abode.

“Mr. Darcy, I respectfully beg for your forgiveness. My brother could have no way of knowing who you are. Allow me to make amends. Brother, this is the Mr. Darcy of Pemberley and Derbyshire of whom I spoke just moments ago. Mr. Darcy, it is indeed a great honour to receive you in my home. Might you allow me to introduce my older brother to you?” Darcy favoured the ridiculous man with slightly more reverence than he would have had he been outside the man’s home and nodded his approval.

“Thank you, sir. This is my older brother, Mr. Geoffrey Collins.”

Geoffrey Collins spoke to Darcy in a manner that clearly conveyed his disdain for his brother’s sycophancy. “Mr. Darcy,” he said as he nodded his head. “I see there are no introductions needed as regards my betrothed.”

Darcy looked at Elizabeth intently. He was not at all impressed she had allowed him to believe she was engaged to the younger man when they had danced at the Netherfield Ball.

Elizabeth spoke up rather hastily. “Mr. Darcy and I met in Hertfordshire last autumn.”

“Is that so?” Collins asked. Speaking directly to Darcy, he questioned, “And when did you and the child become so familiar?”

“I might appreciate your concerns in this matter; however, as you are not as connected with the child’s mother as your manner implies, I suffer no obligation to address your concerns with any particular regard.”

“Elizabeth, perhaps you should explain to the gentleman why he is mistaken,” Collins spoke in a manner intended to direct rather than to persuade.

Elizabeth did not feel any real need to explain anything. It was not as though she did not have her own litany of questions that demanded answers. She wanted answers; that was a certainty—only not in front of a room full of spectators. “Mr. Darcy, may I prevail on you to join me outside for a walk about the garden?”

Before Darcy could speak, Geoffrey Collins responded. “That seems a fine idea. Shall you and I both have a walk in the garden with Mr. Darcy?”

“No! I beg of you. Your presence is not necessary. I am quite capable of speaking with Mr. Darcy in privacy.”

Darcy bowed slightly to Mrs. Collins, and then followed Elizabeth into the hallway. He would not be persuaded to abandon his attempt to help her don her wrap and, in so doing, took every advantage of their nearness to reignite the undeclared yet potent magnetism they shared.

They spoke not a word as they departed the house. Darcy could only imagine the series of questions Elizabeth might have, but he felt they were nowhere near as consequential as those he had for her. He espied a rather secluded area off to the side of the house, away from the direction of the garden. He closed the respectable distance they had established upon first setting off along the observable path, took her by the arm, and guided her there.

“How could you have led me to believe you were engaged to be married to my aunt’s ridiculous parson, Mr. Collins? Not that his brother is a great prize, mind you—but how could you?” Darcy insisted. The passion in his voice was matched by the ardour reflected on his countenance and the intoxicating heat that radiated from their nearness.

Rather than shrink from the intensity of his assault, Elizabeth stoked the smouldering fire, stepping closer and lifting her head as high as she could and responded to him in kind, directly face to face. “Pardon me, Mr. Darcy, I am the one who intends to ask questions here!”

“Not until you tell me why you deliberately misled me.” How he wanted to take her in his arms. He was sorely tempted to do just that.

“I did no such thing! I chose to allow you to think what you might! Am I under any obligation to you, Mr. Darcy?”

Though Mr. Collins did not have an advantageous view of the spot Darcy had chosen for his conversation with Elizabeth, young Ben certainly did as he sat perched in the window seat of his room. Before they knew it, Darcy and Elizabeth’s confrontational twosome had become an uncertain threesome.

Ben grabbed a hold of Darcy’s leg and pleaded, “You are not leaving, are you, my King? You promised you would not leave without saying goodbye.”

Completely setting aside the raging desire he had for Elizabeth and wanting nothing more than to comfort his young friend, Darcy reached down and picked Ben up. “No, Sir Lancelot! I am not leaving just yet. I am only speaking with your mother in private.”

Ben looked back and forth between his mother and his king curiously. “Why are you speaking with my mama in private? Do you already know my mama, King Arthur? Have the two of you met before today?”

“Yes, young sir. Your mother and I know each other quite well.”

“I would not go that far,” Elizabeth said, as she reached to hand her son down from Darcy’s arms. “However, it does seem as if a formal introduction between the two of you is warranted. Moreover, it is I who should make said introductions. Ben, this is Mr. Darcy. Mr. Darcy, this is my son, Bennet Carlton.”

“Oh Mama! Where is the fun in that?”

Darcy playfully repeated, “Yes, where is the fun in that?”

“Pardon me, gentlemen. If it is merely fantasy you two seek, then perhaps I should introduce myself as Guinevere.”