Darcy and Elizabeth What If? Collection 3 (6 page)

He winced to think of the lack of courtesy – indeed, the downright rudeness – that had been offered to Miss Jane Bennet.

‘That was not well done of them,’ he said. He added silently,
Or me.
Because he knew that he had behaved equally badly by hiding her presence in London from Mr Bingley. ‘But matters can soon be put right. I will let my friend know that he should go back to Netherfield when your sister returns from London.’

‘If Jane could be made happy, that would be something indeed,’ said Elizabeth.

The happiness and gratitude in her voice warmed his heart. It might not be love – not yet – but it was a start.

They turned their steps towards the lake. It was of a good size and it was surrounded by the gravel path, beyond which lay a shrubbery. The yellow forsythia was in cheerful bloom.

‘Do you think Lady Catherine would mind if I picked some of the forsythia?’ Elizabeth asked.

Mr Darcy bowed and said, ‘Allow me.’

He stepped across the muddy border with one long stride and rested his foot on a stone as he picked the long stems of delicate yellow blossoms, then presented them to Elizabeth. She smiled at him, such a sunny smile, that he was well rewarded for his effort.

They continued on their way, their harmony restored.

Mr Darcy was tempted to continue thus, basking in Elizabeth’s approval, but he knew there were other matters which must be addressed if he was to turn her present, temporary, goodwill into something more permanent.

‘Is there anything else that prevented you accepting my hand, other than the fact we do not know each other very well?’ he asked.

He felt the drop in temperature as a cloud went over the sun.

‘Yes, there is,’ said Elizabeth. ‘You used a certain gentleman very cruelly. You deprived him of a valuable living and thus blighted his future prospects in a way he will suffer from all his life.’

He remembered his earlier outburst, when she had spoken to him of Wickham at his disastrous first proposal, and his words ran through his head:
You take an eager interest in that gentleman’s concerns
. He was tempted to say them again. But he suppressed them, as he suppressed the jealousy that occasioned them. It was true, he was jealous of Wickham, but he must not show it, if he hoped to win Elizabeth. And she was a prize worth winning.

He knew he must tread carefully and he had rehearsed what he intended to say when the subject of Mr Wickham arose.

‘Mr Wickham was wild in his youth and unsuited to the church. He himself did not want to go into that profession. And so he accepted three thousand pounds instead of the living.’

‘Three thousand pounds!’ said Elizabeth in surprise. ‘That is a very large sum. I knew nothing of this.’

She became pensive, and he could see she was finding it difficult to reconcile her new information with her admiration of Mr Wickham.

‘Even so,’ she said, rallying. ‘If he has outgrown his wild youth, could you not give him the living? He seems well suited to the church now, and although three thousand pounds is a great deal of money, it will not last him a lifetime, whereas the living would provide for him for ever.’

‘I am afraid there is worse. I am not at liberty to divulge any names, but perhaps I can say this without causing injury to any innocent parties: Mr Wickham attempted to elope with a young woman, against the wishes of her family.’

‘Elope!’

Elizabeth sounded shocked, and Mr Darcy was sure it was not only because the affair itself was shocking. He knew that Mr Wickham had been paying court to Elizabeth and she would not like to think that Wickham could switch his affections so easily.

‘Still, if there was love in the case,’ she said.

He could tell it had cost her an effort to say it. For any young woman to realise the young man who had been paying court to her had, at some previous date, been ready to elope with another woman, was not easy. But Elizabeth had risen above petty jealousy and he admired her for it. She was proving herself more and more lovable in his eyes.

‘I am afraid there was no love,’ he said. ‘The young woman was an heiress.’

‘A gentleman might fall in love with an heiress, as well as a poor woman, I suppose,’ she said, attempting humour.

Again he admired her for it. Although her own feelings must be wounded, she was not breaking down, she was behaving with great dignity.

‘He might. But I do not think that any gentleman would elope with a fifteen year old girl.’

‘Fifteen!’ exclaimed Elizabeth. ‘Oh, but this cannot be true.’

‘I have upset you, and I am sorry for it, but it is true nonetheless. My cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, will confirm it.’ He said, more gently, ‘I have many faults, Miss Bennet, but I am not, I think, an unjust man. I hope Mr Wickham will make a success of the military life but I am afraid my help must be at an end.’

‘You have given me much to think about, Mr Darcy,’ she said, as they found themselves close to the path which led to the parsonage. ‘I believe I must leave you here. I do not like to leave Mrs Collins alone too long.’

‘Would you like me to escort you back to the parsonage?’ he asked.

‘No. I would rather go alone. But thank you.’

‘For disturbing your peace of mind?’ he asked, and his voice showed his sorrow at having done so.

‘For having been honest with me,’ she said.

She gave him a brief smile which was worth all the humiliations he had endured and then she walked away from him, back towards the parsonage.

He watched her go, with the forsythia still in her arms, and he did not stop watching her until she entered the parsonage. Then he turned and walked back to Rosings.

I hope I have done the right thing
, he thought under his breath.

Only time will tell.

Elizabeth had much to ponder as she went back into the parsonage.

How I wish Jane were here
, she thought, as she removed her outdoor clothes and then arranged the forsythia in a vase.
I need someone to talk to.

She was reluctant to tell Charlotte, for she knew that Charlotte would think she was wrong to have refused Mr Darcy. And so she kept her thoughts to herself.

She went into the sitting-room. Charlotte was sitting over by the window, making the most of the natural light as she sewed a button onto one of Mr Collins’s shirts. It was a quiet, domestic scene. Charlotte was looking contented and, in a new green muslin gown, she was looking almost pretty.

We are all different
, thought Elizabeth.
Charlotte accepted Mr Collins and I was horrified, but it was the right decision for Charlotte. I have never known her so contented. She has her home and her poultry, she has the parishioners to help and Lady Catherine to mollify. She has a life that agrees with her.

She thought of her sister, and smiled to think how delighted Jane would be when Mr Bingley returned to Netherfield, for Jane, too, knew what would make her happy.

And Mr Wickham? Would he be happy now that he was about to embark upon a career in the militia . . . and pursuing Miss King, if the gossip from Meryton could be believed?

Elizabeth found she did not care. She had not been sure, at first, if she should believe Mr Darcy, but she had no reason to doubt him, especially as he had offered his cousin as a witness to the truth of things. And when she thought of Mr Wickham, she realised she had reason to doubt his version of events. He had spoken to her, a stranger, about personal matters almost as soon as he met her. He had said he would never speak ill of Mr Darcy, and had then done so. He had said he was not afraid of meeting Mr Darcy, and he had then avoided him. All of these things pointed out his deceitful nature, which was hidden under easy manners and a charming smile.

What a fool he must have thought me!
Elizabeth told herself, vexed to think how easily she had been taken in.

And what of Mr Darcy? He was a perplexing man. He was proud and superior and he did not trouble to make himself agreeable to strangers, but beneath his haughty exterior there lurked a man of feeling and sense.

And a man who was willing to learn.

She felt a warmth steal over her as she thought,
He is willing to learn, in order to please me
.

To have the power of influencing such a man was something indeed. And she had already used her influence for good. Only that morning, when she awoke, she had been thinking ill of Mr Darcy as she remembered her sister’s unhappiness, but he had changed his ways and now meant to give his blessing to her sister’s union with Mr Bingley. Elizabeth had no doubt that an engagement would soon be announced.

Mr Darcy had not mended his ways where Mr Wickham was concerned, but then, he had not needed to because he had been right all along. It was Elizabeth who had to rearrange her thoughts.

She realised, ruefully,
I have had to learn from him. I believed everything Mr Wickham said. How foolish I have been!

But Mr Darcy had not berated her for it. He had, instead, explained matters to her in a quiet and gentlemanlike manner.

He once said that his good opinion, once lost, is lost forever
, thought Elizabeth.
I am lucky I did not lose his good opinion by my defence of Mr Wickham.

A warm feeling again stole over her as she thought,
I do not believe I could ever lose his good opinion. I believe he loves me!

The thought brought a smile to her face.

‘You should not be doing that, Lizzy. You are a guest here,’ said Charlotte, as Elizabeth finished mending the pillow case and took a petticoat out of the sewing basket.

‘I hope I am not too grand to help a friend,’ said Elizabeth.

‘Thank you. I want to finish all the mending as quickly as possible so that I can turn my attention to making a new gown. Mr Collins is certain there will be a wedding here soon and, as the clergyman’s wife, I want to look my best.’

‘Oh? Who is about to marry?’ asked Elizabeth with interest.

‘Miss Anne de Bourgh. She has been promised to Mr Darcy since her cradle and as he has brought forward his visit this year, it seems as though he is about to make the engagement official.’

Elizabeth bit her tongue as Charlotte continued to talk of Mr Darcy’s marriage to Miss de Bourgh as a settled thing. But at last she could bear it no longer. She put down her sewing and said, ‘Mr Darcy will never marry Anne de Bourgh.’

Charlotte looked at her in surprise.

‘Why not?’ Charlotte asked.

‘Because, only this morning, Mr Darcy proposed to me,’ said Elizabeth.

Charlotte was stunned. It was a full minute before she could speak.

‘Mr Darcy proposed to you?’ she asked incredulously.

‘Yes.’

‘But . . . when . . . where . . . ?’

‘In the park. I was taking my morning walk as usual when he joined me.’

‘But are you sure you are not mistaken?’ asked Charlotte. ‘He meant, perhaps, that he was to marry Miss de Bourgh?’

‘Charlotte,’ said Elizabeth, putting a hand on her friend’s arm. ‘He went down on one knee and asked me to marry him.’

Charlotte again said nothing for a minute and then her face broke into a smile and she said, ‘I am happy for you Elizabeth. Your mother will be in raptures! What pin money you will have. Only, I ask that you will not forget me. Mr Darcy has many valuable livings in his gift and Mr Collins would like advancement.’

‘You go too fast,’ said Elizabeth. ‘I only said that Mr Darcy asked me to marry him. I did not say that I accepted him.’

‘Surely even you could not be so lost to all sense of your own advantage that you would refuse him?’ asked Charlotte.

Elizabeth felt a gulf open up between her and Charlotte once again. They would always think differently on the subjects of love and marriage. But Elizabeth was a guest in Charlotte’s house and so she did not reply angrily, as she was tempted to do. Instead she took a moment to calm herself and then said, ‘We think differently on the subject of advantages, Charlotte. You think of carriages and pin money. I think of love.’

‘I can think of only one reason for Mr Darcy proposing to you, and that is because he loves you,’ said Charlotte. ‘He can have no other inducement. And so the bar to your union must be that you do not love him.’

‘How can I? I hardly know him,’ said Elizabeth.

‘Ah!’ said Charlotte, with a knowing smile, ‘So you do not despair of falling in love with him.’

Elizabeth was taken aback.

‘I did not mean that,’ she said.

‘I think you did, you just did not know it,’ said Charlotte.

‘That is too deep for me,’ said Elizabeth in some embarrassment.

‘I think not,’ said Charlotte. ‘Admit it, Lizzy, you like him.’

‘I do not know what makes you say that,’ said Elizabeth evasively.

‘I say it because I have seen you with him. You enjoy teasing him. You like his fine mind and his strong character. You find him attractive —’

‘Charlotte!’

‘I am not blind, Lizzy. I have seen the way your eyes widen when you look at him. And who can blame you? He is a very handsome man.’

Elizabeth blushed.

‘And yet you refused him,’ said Charlotte, shaking her head in disbelief.

‘How could I accept him, when he had ruined the happiness of my beloved sister?’ said Elizabeth in a rush, speaking in her own defence. ‘I could never love a man who had harmed Jane in such a way.’ Her face softened. ‘And yet —’

‘And yet?’ queried Charlotte.

‘And yet, when I threw it in his face he apologised and said he had not known that Jane cared for his friend. And now he has withdrawn his objections to the match,’ she said with a smile. ‘So I expect to see Jane and Mr Bingley engaged very shortly.’

Charlotte took up her sewing again.

‘Then you have changed your mind about Mr Darcy and you do not hate him?’ asked Charlotte.

‘No, I do not hate him,’ said Elizabeth softly.

She thought of his kindness to her sister and his willingness to humble himself before her – he, Mr Darcy, who was one of the proudest men in England!

‘Then love might follow,’ said Charlotte. ‘And if it does, and he proposes again . . . ’

Elizabeth felt a cold stab at her heart.

‘He will not propose again,’ she said.

As she realised the truth of those words, she realised what she had lost. She had lost a man of great integrity and worth, a man who was admired and esteemed by those who knew him well, a man who was desirable in so many ways. And she had refused him.

She had been blind.

It was true, she had been misinformed about Mr Wickham and she had based much of her dislike on that mistake. But even before that she had been too willing to set herself against Mr Darcy, because he had insulted her at the Meryton assembly.

Yes, that was where the mischief had begun. When she had overheard that unfortunate remark she had been determined not to like him, partly out of self-defence and partly because she liked having someone to tease. And Mr Darcy, with his superior nature, was so easy to tease. He was a perfect foil for her wit and she had exercised that wit in full measure.

So, pleased with the preference of Mr Wickham and offended by Mr Darcy’s neglect, she had encouraged her feelings for the rogue and discouraged her feelings for the man of worth.

And look where it had led her. It had led her to reject a man she was only just beginning to realise was a man she could have esteemed and respected and – yes, perhaps – loved, if only her vanity had not overcome her reason and set her against him.

The sewing fell from her hands and lay unheeded in her lap. The needle remained clasped in her nerveless fingers.

She thought in anguish,
What have I done?