The Perfect Bride for Mr. Darcy (4 page)

“But what reasons did she give for her refusal?”

Darcy went over to the fireplace and started to stir the ashes with the poker. With his back to Anne, he answered, “She believes I separated Charles Bingley from her elder sister, Jane, and accused me of ruining forever her most beloved sister’s chance of achieving true happiness. Eligible bachelors must be light on the ground in Hertfordshire for this event to be nothing short of a tragedy.”

Ignoring the sarcasm, Anne asked if he did interfere.

“Yes, and I do not regret it at all. There were some very strong objections to the lady’s family,” and he turned to face his inquisitor. “Anne, if you could only see them in society! Good grief! Her mother shows no restraint whatsoever if she thinks her actions might secure a husband for one of her daughters. A younger sister has not a modicum of talent, but that does not prevent her from playing the pianoforte at every gathering. The two youngest sisters are out in society without proper preparation, and their behavior jeopardizes the very thing Mrs. Bennet seeks. Who will marry into such a family?”

“Apparently, you would, Will. These objections are valid, but if you were willing to overlook them, then why should Charles not do the same?”

“Are you serious? I could marry the innkeeper’s daughter, and my place in society would not be jeopardized. Bingley’s place is so tenuous that a marriage to the daughter of a farmer would end forever any hopes he had of making his mark in society. You do not know the history of the Bingley family. Their fortune was made because the grandfather invented an advanced process for the smelting of ore. Bingley’s grandfather was a blacksmith, and his father never ventured farther south than York.”

Darcy had met Charles Bingley while both were guests of a Leicestershire family who hosted one of the finest hunts in England. An expert horseman himself, Darcy had rarely seen anyone who could ride as well as Bingley, and their mutual respect for each other’s riding skills had proved to be the basis of their friendship. Because of his affection for his friend, Darcy wanted Bingley to make his mark in society and took it upon himself to educate his friend as to what was expected of a man who, if Darcy had his way, would move in the top circles of England’s elite.

“To a large degree, the gentleman Bingley has become is my creation.”

“And you did an admirable job, Will, as Mr. Bingley is most certainly a gentleman,” Anne said in a voice she hoped would be calming, as she had never seen her cousin so riled. “I have only met the gentleman on two occasions in town, but with Mr. Bingley’s ample income and, if I remember correctly, the prospect of additional monies from a family trust, Jane Bennet’s position in society would be of little importance to Charles. With so many aristocratic families deeply in debt, people like Charles Bingley can no longer be ignored no matter whom he has chosen as his wife.”

Darcy had no response because he knew of at least a dozen individuals, including Lord Fitzwilliam, who relied on loans from families like the Bingleys to help them pay down their debts.

Anne understood Darcy’s silence was a validation that what she had said about Bingley was correct. “Other than your concerns regarding the family, did you have any objections to the lady?”

“Absolutely! A most important objection. I do not think she loves Bingley. There certainly was nothing in her attitude or manner that indicated a deeper regard for him than for any other man with whom she had conversed. Her expressions showed interest, but to my mind, no real affection.”

“I see. So it was you who interpreted Miss Bennet’s actions for Charles. And it was you who decided that Charles’s rank in society was more important than securing the love of a woman whom he had found to be delightful. And it was you who convinced Charles to return to town and sever any relations with the young lady because you know what is best for your friend.”

Darcy avoided Anne’s gaze. His relationship with his cousin was closer than even that which he had with his sister. Following the death of their parents and because of the ten-year age difference, Darcy had emerged as a father figure to Georgiana. But that was not the case with Anne. He loved her as dearly as a sister and hated to disappoint her, but with Elizabeth’s rebuke still fresh in his mind, he continued to defend his actions.

“I acted in the best interest of my friend, and for that, I make no apology, and I have nothing more to say on the matter. However, according to Miss Elizabeth that was not my most grievous sin. I fell short in her eyes because of a perceived transgression against George Wickham.”

Darcy spat out Wickham’s name as if it was a malignancy. Anne was aware that Wickham had attempted to arrange an elopement with Georgiana a year earlier. The very thought that Wickham might have succeeded caused a fire in his belly.

“In my letters, you will recall I mentioned Wickham had received a commission in a militia regiment encamped near Meryton,” Darcy continued. “I believed he would not reveal his connection with my family for fear that the true story would become known. But I was wrong. Apparently, he convinced Miss Elizabeth that I am a villain and that I denied him the living promised to him by my father.”

“Did you tell her the true story?”

“Certainly not. I would not risk exposing Georgiana.”

“You must not hold Miss Elizabeth in very high regard if you are concerned she would repeat a story shared in confidence.”

“Of course, you are right there,” he responded, staring off into the distance. “Miss Elizabeth would recognize the importance of secrecy, so no additional harm might be done to Georgiana. I will give you that.”

“Then you should immediately acquaint Miss Elizabeth with the truth of the matter, so she might know of Wickham’s villainy. Once she knows what actually happened, she will see you in a different light.”

“I have done exactly that. The reason I did not come to supper was because I was writing a letter exposing Wickham for the liar and moral bankrupt that he is. I have written truthfully and fully of my role in Bingley’s decision to quit Hertfordshire as well, and in the morning, I will put it all in a letter, which I will deliver to Miss Elizabeth when she walks in the grove. I know her favorite spot.”

“Will, let me caution you. You should not give Elizabeth a letter that you wrote while you were still so angry. Wait until you get to London. Once you place the facts before her, they will speak to the justice of your argument. You do not wish to give offense when none is necessary.”

“Give offense? Me? If you heard the things she said, you would not concern yourself with her feelings. And you are right; I am angry. Is she so gullible that she was willing to believe every word that came from the lips of someone whom she had not known a week earlier? Did she not think it inappropriate that a stranger should share such personal information? I was so taken aback by her accusations regarding Wickham that I could hardly remain composed enough to say something civil before leaving.”

“That is exactly my point. Miss Elizabeth was so very angry with you because of your interference in her sister’s affair that it was only natural that she would listen with prejudice to anything else you had to say. For your own sake, I suggest you not give her that letter. Remember, you might very well encounter her in society, and you may come to regret your actions.”

“There you are wrong, Anne. Our paths will never cross again. It was only because Bingley asked me to go to Netherfield Park before signing the lease that I met her at all. I went to the blasted dance in Meryton because Bingley would give me no peace. Do you think I am in the habit of running about the country attending local dances? Other than the annual Lambton harvest dance, I avoid dances held in assembly halls, inns, or barns.”

With that sarcastic statement, Anne knew there was nothing more to be said. He had been wounded by Elizabeth’s rejection, and he was striking out against the source of that hurt.

“Anne, my character demands that I refute these accusations. After tomorrow, I shall never see her again, but she will know the truth before I leave Kent.”

***

After Darcy returned to his room for the night, Anne thought about all that had happened between Will and Elizabeth and recognized that her cousin had got himself into a real mess. But Fitzwilliam Darcy was in love with Elizabeth Bennet, and Anne had seen real interest on Elizabeth’s part during their evenings together at Rosings Park, so something had to be done. Before retiring, she had settled on a course of action. It was as complicated as any battle plan, and it would take luck and timing to make it work. But her cousin’s happiness was at stake, and so she began to work out the details of her scheme.

Mr. Darcy stood by the tall window of the second-floor library of Rosings Park. From this view, he could make out the cream stucco of Hunsford Lodge with its rust-colored roof and flower-lined walk. This was the only room in the manor house from which the parsonage could be seen, and Darcy was waiting for Elizabeth Bennet to return from her morning walk. As soon as he saw Elizabeth, he would know she had read the letter, and his reputation, at least with regards to Wickham, would be restored. How could it be otherwise? Her charges were not only wrong, but unjust.

Darcy paced back and forth in front of the window. Where was she? At the time Elizabeth had taken the letter from his hand, she had been walking in the lane reading a book. Was her interest in her book greater than the contents of his letter? Or was it Nature that beckoned her? Darcy knew of no other female who enjoyed the outdoors as much as she did, and her opinion was that it must be observed on foot. When he had asked if she knew how to ride, she had said that she did, but rode only when necessary and never for pleasure. Most likely, the horses she had ridden were ones that were chosen for their ability to pull a hay wagon. However, if she were to sit upon one of the fillies from the Pemberley stables, she would know the pure pleasure of riding a spirited animal and would come away with a very different opinion. He would have changed her mind.

On his morning rides, Darcy frequently saw Elizabeth walking with her bonnet in hand. When she caught sight of him, she had quickly returned the hat to its rightful place, but the evidence of outdoor exercise only highlighted the beauty of Elizabeth’s dark eyes and her animated expression when she saw something on her walks that delighted her.

But his mind returned to the letter. If Elizabeth had started reading his missive as soon as he had presented it to her, she would by now have read the part where he exposed Wickham’s immoral behavior. Darcy remembered the day when he had first seen Wickham in Meryton. His reaction was that there must be an unattached female in the neighborhood who was in possession of a large fortune. Why else would he be in a small market town, the usual attractions for a man of such low tastes being absent? There were no women of easy virtue to be had nor horse races to be run, and betting on a cockfight behind the village smithy would not have satiated his appetite for gambling. His disgust at seeing Wickham was further heightened when he saw Elizabeth talking to him. He was puzzled how someone with her keen intellect had not seen through his façade. But she did not know Wickham, and truth to tell, she did not know him either. He had revealed so little of himself in their conversations, and the tension that existed when they were together was such that it acted as a barrier to any greater intimacy between them.

But now that she had become acquainted with the truth, she would see him in a different light. She would know he had acted honorably, if unwisely, in seeing that Wickham received his full inheritance in one lump sum payment in order to be rid of him all the sooner. He had acted rashly there and should have known that any animal will return to the place where it has last eaten. What he did not anticipate was that his unctuous charm would play so well on the feelings of his sixteen-year-old sister. In hiding Wickham’s true nature from Georgiana, he had set the stage for Wickham’s attempted elopement.

Darcy did not wish to think of these things any longer. Once Elizabeth returned to Hunsford Lodge, he would be on the road to London. But where was she? She was now in possession of the letter long enough to have read through it several times. Was she chewing on each sentence as a dog would worry a bone? Or was she concentrating on the part that dealt with her beloved sister Jane?

Would Elizabeth’s judgment have been so harsh if she had known of the criticism he had endured when he had befriended Charles Bingley? His aunt, Lady Catherine, had made it clear that Bingley was not welcomed at Rosings. To her, he was the thin end of the wedge, a threat to her world, and she would not have a “nobody” dining at her table. Bingley, who had barely established his own place in society, might very well have sunk under the weight of an unfortunate marriage.

Anticipating that his aunt might send someone to look for him, Darcy had pulled a chair over to the window in such a way that a servant might come into the room without seeing him. He knew that there were those who would expose him, his aunt’s butler for one. Trent was a tired soul, and after having served Her Ladyship for thirty years, he was entitled to his peace and quiet and would have disrupted Darcy’s to achieve it.

Thoughts continued to swirl around in his mind. He now wondered if it had been wise to reveal in the letter that he had known of Miss Bennet being in London, but had deliberately kept that information from Bingley. Having been informed by Elizabeth that Miss Bennet cared deeply for his friend and that it was only her sense of modesty that had prevented a more open display of affection, he was uncomfortable with how forcefully he had pushed the matter to its conclusion.

Damnation! This might possibly have been avoided if Miss Bennet was as animated as her sister. If she had not sat there demurely with her hands folded in her lap, then surely it would not have been possible for Darcy to persuade his friend that the lady was not in love with him. It was difficult to imagine such a situation happening with Elizabeth. There was no guessing at her feelings. Her eyes revealed everything: the joy she experienced in dancing and being in the company of her friends, the annoyance she felt when asked to dance by Mr. Collins, and the puzzlement she showed when she danced with him at the Netherfield ball and tried to “take his likeness.” He saw something else again in her eyes yesterday when she had refused him. He saw the hurt she felt for her sister and her indignation at his supposed ill treatment of Wickham. Her anger was real and deep, and the contents of his letter may have caused further injury.

What would her eyes show now? Upon reflection, could she find any good in him, or had he left her with the impression that he was an unfeeling, boorish man? At that moment, he saw a flash of yellow, the color of her bonnet. As he had imagined, she was not wearing it, but held it in one hand and his letter in the other. He stood up and drew nearer to the window. This would be the last opportunity he would have to look upon the woman he had hoped to take as his bride. He would drink his fill, and then move on.

Elizabeth stood outside the parsonage, but did not go in. Instead, she sat on a bench outside the front door holding his letter to her breast and looking up at the sky as if to hold back her tears. She sat quietly for several moments, but then her gaze followed the contours of the hill leading to Rosings and the line of the house up to the window where Mr. Darcy stood. What was she thinking? If only he was closer, he could have looked into her eyes. Her eyes would have revealed everything.