Mr. Darcy Broke My Heart (16 page)
Read Mr. Darcy Broke My Heart Online
Authors: Beth Pattillo
Tags: #Adult, #Contemporary, #Romance, #Young Adult, #Historical
From his seat several chairs away, James was looking at me, a glint of laughter in his eyes just as there had been on that first day when our gazes had met and I’d felt the connection from one end of my body to the other.
Only it was too late now. James had made his feelings clear. I broke eye contact and turned my attention back to Eleanor. Well, not my attention exactly, but at least my gaze. The conversation had moved on into a more general discussion, and I made every effort to nod and look thoughtful in the right places.
Martin, bless him, carried the conversational ball with aplomb, and sooner than I could have hoped, the discussion time for Missy’s paper ended. Eleanor declared a tea interval before the next presentation, and I practically leaped from my chair, brushing past the others to escape to the restroom.
Airing my family’s dirty linen, even in such an oblique way, called for a strategic retreat and some significant nursing of my wounds.
S
ince James wasn’t ready yet to present and Martin asked to be the last to share his paper, we spent the remainder of the morning debating some of the finer points of
Pride and Prejudice
, such as whether Wickham was inherently evil or whether the loss of his father had scarred him so much that he couldn’t behave properly. The men tended to take the first view, and the women the second.
As soon as Eleanor dismissed us for lunch, I hurried from the seminar room before James could catch up with me. I wasn’t about to turn up at the Hall for the noon meal, not when his rejection the night before still stung so fiercely. And especially not when I’d just put myself through the emotional wringer while presenting what should have been a routine paper.
I made it out Tom Gate and down the street before anyone could stop me. After the previous night’s break-in, I was
eager to check on Harriet. To my relief, she answered the door almost as soon as I knocked.
“More tea, of course,” she said as she led me into the sitting room. “You look as if you could do with the contents of the entire pot.”
I simply nodded my agreement.
While she stepped out to make the tea, I retrieved the manuscript from my bag and laid it on the table next to the sofa. I’d become accustomed to the slightly stale smell of old books, the troublesome broken springs in the cushion beneath me, and the warmth of the cottage, which comforted rather than stifled. My eyelids began to droop, and the next thing I knew, Harriet was sliding the tea tray on the low table in front of me.
“Needed a bit of a sleep, did you? Well, I expect that’s the jet lag. And the stress, of course.”
“Of course. Look, Harriet, about yesterday—”
“You’ve read what I sent to you last evening?”
I nodded and tried to look composed, but I was still ashamed. “Harriet, I’m very sorry, but I’ve broken your confidence. I know you asked me not to—”
She froze. “You’ve shown the manuscript to someone else?”
I took a sip of the steaming hot tea. “Only one page to Martin Blakely, and he’s sworn to secrecy. Nothing’s proven one way or the other, but Martin certainly thought it looked authentic.”
Harriet looked troubled. “Of course it’s authentic.”
“I just needed to be sure—”
“Because you didn’t believe me.” Harriet’s shoulders drooped.
“It’s not that I didn’t believe you.”
“No. It’s just that I’m an old woman who’s going daft.”
Her eyes darkened and grew moist, and I felt as if I’d kicked a puppy.
“Harriet, have you found any more of the manuscript?” I asked gently.
“Yes.” She took a deep breath and seemed to compose herself. “I found another bit when I was clearing out the linen cupboard at the top of the stairs.”
The linen cupboard at the top of the stairs? Well, of course that’s where one would find precious bits of a lost Austen manuscript. I took another sip of tea so that I could hide my expression. Now I couldn’t even bring myself to tell her about the break-in.
Harriet wasn’t paying attention to me, though. She rose from her perch, disappeared into the hallway, and then returned in a mere moment with a fresh stack of pages—well, if one could call two-hundred-year-old paper fresh.
“Here they are.” She put the pages in my lap, but she still looked distressed. “I’m lucky to find all these bits in order. Usually it’s willy-nilly.”
“Thank you.” I laid a hand on her arm. “Thank you for sharing this with me.” I knew she was disappointed in me, but for whatever reason, she was still willing to trust me to read more of her treasure, and I was humbled by her trust.
“I’ll just leave you to it, then.” Harriet rose from the sofa looking more like her usual self. “That cupboard won’t clean itself out.” She gave me a look that mingled disappointment and hope. “Let me know if you want more tea.” And once more she slipped from the room, leaving me alone with the precious pages.
First Impressions
Chapter Ten
As it happened, Elizabeth was only too glad of Colonel Fitzwilliam’s company when the time came to visit Huntsford parsonage. Mr. Humphreys greeted the carriage at the gate and offered Miss de Bourgh his arm, an action that displeased Lady Catherine and left Elizabeth standing alone until Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam arrived on horseback a few moments later. Shortly thereafter Elizabeth found herself tête-à-tête with the colonel
.
All the members of the party, even Miss de Bourgh, were engaged to stroll about the garden and toward the stables, which though not covering a great distance, still gave Elizabeth a quarter hour to extract what information she could from the colonel about his cousin
.
“Do you often visit Rosings, Colonel?” she said as they walked behind the others. Mr. Humphreys was speaking with rapturous delight about the changes he had made to the kitchen garden, and while the space was ample and the plants well tended, Elizabeth could hear
Lady Catherine’s imperious commands as to necessary, and indeed immediate, improvements
.
“We visit our aunt three or four times a year,” the colonel said, casting a glance in that estimable personage’s direction. By this time, Lady Catherine had succeeded in transferring Anne’s escort from Mr. Humphreys to Mr. Darcy
.
“And is their engagement of longstanding?” Elizabeth asked with a nod toward the couple, even as she despised herself for the contrived artlessness of her question
.
That much I remembered from the final version of
Pride and Prejudice
. Darcy and Anne were supposed to get married, if their mothers had their way. Clearly, Lady Catherine’s designs on Darcy had survived Austen’s rewrite.
The colonel paused. “Engagement? I am aware of no formal pledge, Miss Bennet. Only an understanding between my aunt and Darcy’s mother. A sisterly inclination, but nothing more.”
Indeed? Hope sprang to life in Elizabeth’s breast. If there were no formal engagement… And then she stopped, quite literally in the midst of the path, a flush heating her face and neck
.
So Elizabeth had fallen for Darcy rather early on in this version.
“Miss Bennet? Are you unwell?” The colonel drew her off the path to a plain wooden bench beneath the shelter of a beech tree. “Shall I fetch you a glass of water? Or some wine?”
“No, no. I am quite well, Colonel. I am sorry to inconvenience you. Pray, join the others and leave me here to collect myself. I really am quite well, I assure you.”
But the colonel would not dream of leaving her unattended no matter how Elizabeth might urge him to withdraw. Though her inquiry had been slight and almost innocent, she recognized in her heart the seeds of hope. Mr. Darcy’s strange attentions to her over the last week could only be ascribed to boredom. Certainly she should not make assumptions simply because he so often turned up just as she was setting off for her daily turn about the park, or because he offered to turn the pages of her music when Lady Catherine commanded her to the pianoforte in the evenings. And yet here she was, shamelessly culling information from Colonel Fitzwilliam
.
“You said when we met that you had been too long from your regiment.” She vowed to fix her attention on the colonel and keep her eyes from following the tall figure moving toward the stables. “Do you plan to return to duty soon, then, sir?” She knew from Lady Catherine’s boasts that the colonel had fought valiantly against the French
.
He grimaced. “I am to sell out, Miss Bennet, at the end of the summer. So, no, I am not to rejoin my regiment.”
“You sound as if you regret the choice, sir.”
His weather-beaten face grew tight. “I do, Miss Bennet. Indeed, I do. But my father has made me an offer I cannot refuse.”
“What sort of offer, sir?”
“A small but handsome property that adjoins our family pile. The rents are modest but not insignificant, and I may enjoy the life of a gentleman after all these years of following the drum.”
It sounded rather like Longbourn, which caused her heart to twist in her breast. “And will you miss soldiering?”
“I will. I will indeed, Miss Bennet.” He was no older than his cousin, she surmised, and yet he seemed to have an air of experience that even the formidable Mr. Darcy did not possess. Yet his manner was softened by something. A hint of weariness, perhaps?
“But you will be glad to settle in one place, surely?”
He smiled. “It is human nature, I suppose, to always want what we do not have. For many years I longed for a home and hearth of my own. And now that I am to be a settled gentleman, I find that I’ve still a great deal of the soldier in me.”
“Change is always difficult.” Elizabeth laid a hand on the sleeve of his coat. “Time will aid you in coming to terms with your situation.”
He looked up, and his gaze held hers. “Do you speak from experience, Miss Bennet? Pardon my directness, but
I wonder at your optimism.” He paused. “I mean, given your situation. I do not mean to speak ill of my aunt, but—”
Elizabeth shook her head. “A woman’s ability to adapt must serve me in my circumstances,” she said, regret and longing in her voice, she was sure. “Men have the means to be independent. You do not need to learn acceptance in the same way we must.” Sudden tears swam in her eyes, and she turned her face from him. Of all things, she did not want his pity. Or anyone’s, for that matter
.
“Miss Bennet—” He took her hand from his sleeve and held it in his, and Elizabeth closed her eyes at the touch
.
He was a man accustomed to protecting king and country. No doubt when he chose to take a wife, he would protect her as well. If only his cousin were more like him. She refused to think of what had happened the evening before, at the top of the stairs. She refused to think of Mr. Darcy’s eyes, or the way she had felt when he had kissed her
.
Kissed her? My mouth dropped open in astonishment, and I was very sorry that Harriet hadn’t found that particular section of the manuscript.
“I think the others have returned to the house,” Elizabeth said, shaking off her melancholy and turning
her attention to the moment. “They will be expecting us. I believe Mr. Humphreys mentioned that his housekeeper possesses a dab hand with lemon tarts.”
He wanted to say something more, Elizabeth knew. He made a slight grimace at her change of subject but followed her lead. “Yes, I was made to understand that as well. Shall we see if the actuality bears out the advertisement?”
Elizabeth nodded, grateful to him for his discretion but also anxious at his mode of address. She liked the colonel far too well for her own peace of mind. He had a way of setting her at ease with his competent, confident manner that made her long to rest her cheek against the front of his coat and bide there until she felt stronger. But he was not Mr. Darcy, and she could not dictate the longings of her own heart
.
The section ended abruptly. Disappointment flooded through me, and I suppressed a groan. When I looked up, Harriet sat in her customary chair beneath the window, knitting needles in hand. She met my gaze.
“Everything all right, dear?”
“Mr. Darcy kissed Elizabeth? At Rosings?”
Harriet chuckled. “Apparently so, although that part was missing when the manuscript was given to me.”
“Are there a lot of holes? In the manuscript, I mean?”
“More than I would like.”
“Do you think someone else might have them?”
Harriet shrugged. “I’ve no idea, really. None of the other ladies are in possession of the missing bits, unfortunately.”
I nodded. “Do you have regular meetings, the Formidables, where you discuss these things?” I took a sip of tea, lukewarm but still fragrant. I was intrigued by the idea of the Formidables. How many other secrets did they possess?
Harriet smiled but shook her head. “I don’t even know who all the others are, to tell the truth. Only Mrs. Parrot does.”
I paused. “Look, Harriet, I’m not exactly sure how I got tangled up in all of this—”