The Road to Pemberley (32 page)

“You are to leave my house and never return. You are to never write to me or speak to me again. Leave now, before I summon a constable.” Darcy's normally soft voice held a very hard edge.

Albert rose from the ground, making sure his hands were up in mock surrender. “Now, now, old chap, the girl was begging me. We are to be married, Kitty and I. I am to be tied to you forever, Darcy.”

“Not while I live,” Darcy growled.

“But Darcy, you cannot throw me out; you made a promise,” Chalmer said, reminding him of the stupid oath Darcy's pride had forced him to keep all these years.

“Hang the promise! I have paid you back a hundred times, and I am sick of your face. Out of my house this instant! Or I will have you thrown in jail. I am the magistrate and I promise I will not be an impartial judge.”

“Miss Bennet, are you sure you're all right? We could call a doctor.” Mr. Denton sat in the chair across from Kitty as she tried to regain her composure.

She had not known he was in the house, meeting with Darcy, until he rushed into the room while Mr. Darcy was yelling at Lord
Chalmer. The ever-considerate Denton had come to her side and held her hand. He had spoken to her in his calm, reassuring manner, telling her she was safe now.

And that was it.

As he held her hand while her brother-in-law yanked Albert out of the room, it came to Kitty that Mr. Denton was the only man she wanted to spend the rest of her days with. If she couldn't be with this kind man, then she'd be a spinster.

For the longest time, she had thought she needed a wealthy man in order to live comfortably. She had dreamed of a man who could provide her with fine horses, fashionable bonnets, and vacations abroad. But suddenly it came upon her that she cared not if she ever saw Vauxhall or shopped the stores on Bond Street. Once, those things had seemed so important, but she had been sorely wrong.

What she had wanted, and what she dearly needed, were two very different things.

She needed a man who was patient with her, one who drew out her secrets and wanted to know every inch of her mind. Kitty needed a man who would want her beside him in his labors, who enjoyed her company, and who looked forward to all their shared moments. She needed a man who loved her as she was.

“I need not a doctor, Mr. Denton, but I finally know what I do need.”

He raised his eyebrows questioningly.

She swallowed hard.

“You.”

“You need me? I am at your bidding. I will do anything for you, Miss Bennet,” he answered, oblivious to her meaning.

“All this time, I have been blind and foolish, looking for my future in all the wrong places. And now I see that it is right before me, with you.”

His expression changed to shock and his jaw dropped. “Are you sure? Could you care for me?”

“I do care for you very much, Mr. Denton. I believe I'm in love with you, though I realized it only just now.”

Denton dropped to one knee. Taking Kitty's hand, he pressed a kiss to the back of her fingers that set her heart to pounding in her chest like a runaway carriage.

“I have loved you since the moment I saw you in that mud puddle. I wanted to scoop you up in that instant and take you home. I haven't much to my name, but I promise to adore you for the rest of our days. I love you, Kitty Bennet. Say you'll marry me.”

A flood of warmth washed over her as she looked into the blue horizon of his eyes. “Yes. Of course.” Her voice was only a whisper.

Denton let out a joyful laugh as he swept Kitty up in his arms. But then, a breath away from kissing her, the color drained from his cheeks. “But what of Darcy? Your brother will have my head. I should have spoken to him first.”

“Mr. Darcy won't reject you. He cannot! He is your friend.” Kitty gave Conrad's hand a reassuring squeeze.

“It is his right as your protector. I love you, but your brother knows I'm just a clergyman, Miss Bennett. You deserve a man of Darcy's circumstances. He can't possibly accept my suit.”

“Hush. We'll make him see that you are the only man I could ever love.”

A laugh at the door drew both Kitty and Conrad's attention. Darcy smiled broadly and strode forward. “Look at the two of you, presuming all manner of things about me.”

Kitty spoke up. “Mr. Darcy, before you speak, I must tell you that Mr. Denton is the best man I have ever known, I
love
him.”

Darcy nodded. “And Mr. Denton is exactly who I would pick for you Kitty. The union has my full consent.”

Denton clasped Darcy's outstretched hand. “Thank you Mr. Darcy, I don't know what to say. I promise to treasure your sister forever. I don't deserve her or your blessing, but I will endeavor to live a life worthy of both.”

“We'll run the banns this week and you shall be married by the end of the month.” Darcy placed a hand on each of their shoulders as he spoke.

Neither Darcy nor Kitty heard from Lord Chalmer or his mother again. There was a rumor that mother and son lived out the remainder of their days in America, but who could give credence to such an outlandish report?

Mr. Darcy was true to his word. Kitty became Mrs. Denton by the end of the month, and she filled every inch of Graceacre with her love and laughter.

On a warm summer's eve, Kitty and Conrad would sit in the gardens and watch their four children, playing in the woods with their three Darcy cousins. Occasionally, the six Bingley children could be found running among the same trees, sharing secrets and finding frogs with their relations.

At such times, Kitty would sigh and think of her wedding day. At precisely the moment that the couple were being pronounced man and wife, she knew that—for the first time in her life—she was number one in someone's heart.

And so she was, and remained.

A Good Vintage Whine

BY TESS QUINN

“Bingley, how on earth did you manage this?”

“I am sure I do not know, Darcy—it just…happened!”

“Well, stand aside, man, and let me try once more.”

Bingley moved to the other side of the enclosure, well behind Darcy, and watched as that gentleman put all his concentration—not to mention his shoulder and considerable weight—into forcing the door to open.

“It is of no use!” He finally gave it up, rubbing his shoulder. “It will not budge; indeed, our attempts to force it, I believe, have only wedged the obstruction more tightly.”

He glanced at his friend, laughing in spite of his own irritation at the panicked countenance Bingley wore, and said, “It appears we shall rest here yet a while then, until we may be discovered.”

Despite Darcy's outward calm, Bingley was quite clearly agitated. “But…what if we are
not
discovered?” He looked around him frantically. “What if we are not missed and are confined here for days? How long can we survive? The air will become putrid—we have no food or water. What if there are rats—?”

He looked to go on indefinitely, his words coming faster and louder as he spoke. Darcy walked back to his friend and put his hands on Bingley's shoulders, holding them there with some steadying pressure until Bingley looked at him. “Get hold of yourself, Charles!”

“I beg your pardon, Darcy.” He tried to settle his mind, to focus it upon his friend. “I am afraid I do not do well in confined spaces. I have not the temperament for it. I cannot think…cannot breathe.” His eyes darted about the room. “We are lost—we shall expire here! What a singular turn of fate—just as I have secured my happiness, it is cut short!”

“Bingley!”

Having both silenced Bingley and drawn his attention yet again, Darcy set about to ease the man's nerves.

“Consider, man. We are hardly lost. We are in your own wine cellar, for pity's sake.” He picked up a lamp from the nearby table and moved it slowly around. “We have a lamp—and spare,” he added as he pointed the light toward candles resting on a low shelf. “It is only two hours or so until the Bennets arrive for dinner. Do not you think if we fail to appear by then, we should be searched out?”

“Do you truly believe it, Darcy? We will be found? Two hours?”

“Very likely sooner. The housekeeper will send a footman for wine for this evening; we could meet our rescuer at any moment.” He added, “And you will have forgotten it all by the time you face your lady across the table.”

“Oh! Yes, of course. My gratitude, Darcy, you have indeed put my mind at rest.” Bingley calmed somewhat at that, though he could not fully relax.

Darcy guided Bingley over to the table and into a chair to await their rescue. He had not been completely truthful. Keeping the man calm, for both their sakes, had forced him to give in to a little falsehood. He rather thought any wines or spirits for this evening's dining would already have been collected for the decanting of those which required it. It could well take the failure of their appearance when guests arrived to initiate a search for Darcy and Bingley. The best hope was that, on discovering them missing, some servant or other might recall having seen them descend to the wine cellar. Darcy was certain they would be detected, but not so assured of its imminence. They could be here for some while. And the last thing either of them needed in their close quarters was an outbreak of hysterics.

Now that he had somewhat assuaged Bingley's fears, he wanted a diversion to maintain the calm.

“Shall we?” he asked, pointing to the row upon row of libations around them.

“What?” Looking up from the table, Bingley caught Darcy's meaning. “Oh! Yes, I suppose we may as well. Pick what you like; it is all the same to me at the moment.”