The Trouble with Mr. Darcy (8 page)

“Of the walk or my ‘condition’?” Lizzy asked innocently.

“Of you walking
in
your condition!”

Lizzy shrugged. “I did not ask specifically about
this
walk, but usually he does not tend to inhibit my walking. And the ‘condition’ I am in does not seem to influence his attitude on the subject in a negative way, as far as I have been able to ascertain. It is partially his fault, after all, so he cannot very well argue my need for exercise, now can he?”

Lizzy grabbed her bonnet by the strings, curtsied to Lady Catherine, and turned to make for the door.

“Are you not going to put your hat on? The sun is bright and without hat or gloves on you will become tanned.” Lady Catherine uttered the word “tanned” as if the worst curse word imaginable. “I cannot imagine Fitzwilliam would be pleased at that.”

“He has never complained before. But I promise that if he expresses any distaste, I shall henceforth don my bonnet from the outset.” She smiled brilliantly, curtsied again, and left—with the bonnet dangling by her side. Needless to say, Darcy did not mind her bronze skin in the least.

Another time: “Here is your book, Elizabeth.”

“Thank you, William.”

“May I ask what you are reading, Mrs. Darcy?”

“Of course, Lady Catherine. I am reading
Evelina
by Frances Burney. Have you read it?”

“I most certainly have not,” Lady Catherine sniffed. “I prefer to read books of intellectual quality and strong moral lessons rather than the nonsensical romanticism of novels.”

“As you have admittedly not read
Evelina
, how can you assert it is nonsensical? Romantic to be sure, but the titular character’s virtues and attention to upright morals in the face of difficulties are to be admired.
Evelina
is a lesson in etiquette and propriety.”

Lady Catherine was not convinced. “I am surprised you would allow such reading material for your wife, Fitzwilliam.”

“I do not dictate my wife’s reading material, Aunt Catherine. Her choices are invariably sound ones. Although in this case, I would disagree with Mrs. Darcy’s assessment. I found Evelina to be somewhat boring as a character. But perhaps my judgment is colored as I prefer women with spunk and a ready wit.”

He smiled at his wife but did note his aunt’s incredulous expression. “You read this… novel?” she sputtered.

“Indeed I have.”

“He tolerated it,” Lizzy put in with a laugh. Then she added, looking directly at Lady Catherine, “He much prefers a novel with a bit more excitement and controversy, like
Tom Jones
.”

Lady Catherine was so stunned she could not form a reasonable response. Darcy shot his wife a glare, but she noticed the twitching of his lips. Denying the charge was impossible since it was true, so he said nothing. Thankfully the topic turned away from dubious literature at that point!

But the worse forms of irritation to the priggish woman were unintentionally caused, and that was the blatant affection between her formerly staid nephew and the woman who had driven that good sense and propriety out of him. She was pleased on a certain level that Darcy was happy, as she was for Anne and Raul, finally accepting that her daughter never would have given Darcy what he needed and vice versa. She also accepted that the Darcys truly loved each other, and as ridiculous as she regarded that emotion, she was forced to acknowledge that Lizzy had not pursued him for his wealth and position as Lady Catherine had surmised. That acceptance did not necessarily mean she approved of his choice or saw Lizzy any differently than she did before, however. Witnessing his frivolity, as she interpreted it, and catching them amid loving displays only served to confirm her opinion of Elizabeth’s character.

Anne and Raul knew when to show affection, and that was behind a firmly closed door. The two were overwhelmingly in love, but other than polite pecks on the cheek or sappy gazes, they restrained themselves. Lizzy and Darcy had never learned to master that extreme caution, nor had they overly tried. They did not wantonly embrace or kiss in public, Darcy sooner dying than to go that far, but they were definitely more demonstrative than typically customary and, if alone, they could, and often did, lose control to a degree.

“William, come! A whole family of ducks is being herded by Lady Catherine’s corgi. It is hysterical!”

He rose from his seat to join his wife by the library window where she stood watching the antics of the corgi, he intent on rounding the uncooperative ducks and ducklings. “I believe my aunt would have a seizure if she knew her prized pet was playing with farm animals,” he rumbled, breaking into a laugh when one of the ducks snapped at the yipping dog’s tail, missing by less than an inch.

They watched the entire escapade, the corgi finally triumphing when every last duck entered the pond. Darcy unconsciously caressed the small of her back, his hand gliding over her waist when she turned and leaned into the window’s edge. “He does well for a little thing. Perhaps we should think of getting one. They are quite cute.”

“Dogs are meant to guard and protect, not be useless balls of fur labeled ‘cute’ that yap constantly and tread through the house.”

“You mean like our cat? That worthless ball of fur who ends up curled by your feet and has never once been kicked aside as you threaten to do on a daily basis?”

Darcy smiled, reaching to slowly sweep a loose curl off her cheek and tuck it behind her ear. “He catches mice, therefore earning his keep. Plus he keeps my feet warm.”

“Your feet are never cold, Mr. Darcy, so I am not buying that for a second. I think a fluffy corgi would worm his way into your heart until you are spoiling him worse than I. Dare you deny it?”

“I shall maintain my silence on the subject.” His fingers brushed over her cheeks and down her neck, his eyes following. “What I shall not deny is how lovely you look with the sun striking your skin and that amused sparkle in your eyes. I am breathless and suddenly thirsty.”

“Shall I pour you some water, sir? Will that alleviate your distress?”

“Not in the least, minx.” He bent his head, planting a delicate kiss to her collarbone, right where the sun’s ray illuminated. He continued to deliver airy kisses and feathery touches of his tongue all along the glowing beam painting her skin, traveling ever closer to her décolletage.

Lizzy was helpless to do anything but to close her eyes, melting into the hard wall and instinctively slipping both hands inside his jacket to hold onto his waist.

“This only serves to make me thirstier,” he growled, stopping before kissing the furthest edge of the beam, conveniently located precisely between her breasts. He straighten, only for a moment, before leaning into her body, pressing and pulling at the same time, and engaging her lips this time for a searing kiss. “Alexander is asleep and the house is quiet,” he continued some minutes later, “so I say we take our appetite upstairs, yes, Mrs. Darcy?”

Lizzy nodded in agreement but chose to bridge the narrow gap between their mouths and crush his hard body closer rather than take a step toward the door. Darcy chose to deepen the kiss, grind his lower body against her softness, and release a long moan of pleasure rather than taking a step toward the door.

The door which opened at that moment to admit Lady Catherine.

Her gasp was lost in the air, the click of the rapidly closed door not registering to the impassioned lovers who soon composed themselves enough to exit the room still ignorant of the interloper. They took their tryst to their chamber to be completed without any interruptions. Lady Catherine took to her bed also, smelling salts on the stand just in case!

Then there was Mr. Collins to irritate Lizzy. Or rather both of them, as Darcy abhorred him. Luckily he rarely had to encounter the obsequious little man other than at dinner upon occasion. Lizzy was not as fortunate, by her choice, since her friendship with Charlotte remained.

Yet, as time passed, her friendship with Charlotte was subtly altering. Perhaps it was a natural progression due to the distance between their current homes with visits rare and brief. But upon serious reflection Lizzy knew it was not that. While her newfound friendships with ladies such as Chloe Drury, Julia Sitwell, and Amelia Lathrop—all who lived a distance from Pemberley—flourished, her relationship with Charlotte Collins diminished. How much of that had to do with Lizzy’s distaste for Mr. Collins and her persistent disbelief that sensible, warm Charlotte could stoop to marry him or the differences in their social status Lizzy could not decide.

She felt embarrassed by the uncomfortable silences that came while they visited. It was odd to realize that they had little in common anymore. She could not share her happiness with Darcy since Charlotte would never possess half that joy in her union. They talked about household management and charity work, but in both cases their experiences and duties were vastly different. Frivolous gossip about people or events was limited, since they knew few of the same people and their perspectives were quite varied now. The safest topic was children, so that is what they shared in largest portion.

The twin Collins girls were plain in appearance, but lively creatures just a few weeks older than Alexander. He thought they were fantastic fun, the three of them running and rolling about the lawn while their mothers sipped tea and talked. At times like this, with the breeze blowing and the women relaxing under a shading tree, the years erased and they were just Lizzy and Charlotte again.

Until Mr. Collins appeared.

“Mrs. Darcy”—he bowed—“I am honored to welcome you to our humble abode. I apologize profusely for not greeting you as is proper for the master of the house, even one as quaint and modest as ours, to do. More so, I daresay, as a great lady such as you condescending to pass through our simple doors is a tremendous courtesy and should not be ignored. Of course, I mean no disrespect to our parsonage, you understand? Lady Catherine, our gracious patroness, has contributed bountifully to enhance our home and we are eternally grateful and in her debt.”

“Have no worries over it, Mr. Collins,” Lizzy interrupted the tide. “Lady Catherine is abundantly aware of her charitable acts and how appreciative her subjects are.”

He bowed again, missing the hidden slur. “That is a relief to hear. Thank you for informing me. And thank you for visiting with my dear Mrs. Collins. She, I know, is as honored as I by your consideration. Most likely her overwhelming gratitude is why she neglected to alert me as to your arrival, an understandable omission, I know, perfectly understandable under the circumstances. Still, if I had been notified I would have hastened from my work, as important as it is to the nourishment of God’s children and the furtherance of His church, to welcome you immediately. As it is I am late, but my happiness and sincerity are surely as intense.”

“Thank you, Mr. Collins. You are the soul of hospitality. As is Charlotte. Indeed we were caught up in our mutual delight and forgot all other considerations. Please forgive me for preventing her carrying out her duties, as I am sure she would have.”

“Indeed! Oh, indeed there is nothing to forgive!” He cast befuddled eyes about the yard, noting the laughing children. “Ah, your son has grown, Mrs. Darcy. What a fine lad he is. Mr. Darcy must be immeasurably proud to have a son who is so handsome and robust.”

“We are indeed proud. You must be as well?” He knit his brows, lifting a brow in question. “About your girls, I mean,” Lizzy explained. “They are lovely girls and healthy.”

“Yes, yes of course. They are wonderful and we are naturally cognizant of God’s grace and beholden to Him for His mercy. However, as remarkable and special as girls are, and we dearly love our Leah and Rachel, Mrs. Collins and I, one cannot deny the desire for a son to uphold the family name and potentially, hopefully, walk in a father’s steps.” He sighed, unconsciously glancing to a flushed Charlotte. “A man naturally wishes for such a gift. Alas, it is not always granted.”

Lizzy felt the tension in the air, the heaviness of it pressing into her chest in a most uncomfortable manner, and Charlotte’s pained expression distressed her. Mr. Collins was always annoying, but Lizzy typically offset her irritation by oblique insults that he never comprehended but that amused her and made his presence tolerable. Not this time, however.

“Charlotte,” Lizzy stood, not giving Mr. Collins another opportunity to pontificate, “how about we take the children for a stroll in the Park? I love the walk through the roses.”

Taking their leave of Collins was not as easy as she hoped, but eventually they were alone. They pushed the prams over the rocky walkway, admiring the flowers in inane phrases that only served to heighten the strange tension. Finally, Lizzy could hold her tongue no longer.

“Charlotte, I have to ask. Are you unable to have more children?”

Her companion was silent for a long while. Lizzy feared studying her face, assuming the grief over an inability to conceive must be great. She knew that Charlotte’s delivery of the girls was tortuous, although Charlotte had never given details. It was not uncommon for injury to occur of a nature that made pregnancy impossible or unwise.

“No,” Charlotte answered in a grave tone. “I am sure I could have more children. I simply do not wish to have more.”