Truth about Mr. Darcy (9 page)

The passing of another two days finally brought a close to Mr. Collins’s rather lengthy stay at Longbourn, but as he was, by no means, ready to take his leave of his dear Charlotte after having so recently discovered her, Lady Catherine de Bourgh had, yet
again
, graciously condescended to grant him her permission to extend his stay until the following Friday. This did nothing to appease Elizabeth, who, in spite of his engagement to her good friend and her own understanding with Darcy, continued to be an object of that gentleman’s interest, though she was hard-pressed as to understand why.

To Darcy, her cousin’s actions were far from acceptable. He did not at all like the way the clergyman’s eyes followed Elizabeth when he was in company with her. It was not exactly a look of admiration or even lust the man bestowed upon her, but more an expression of scrutiny and bitterness, as though Mr. Collins wished to discover something to criticize in her behavior toward him.

As far as his treatment of Darcy was concerned, however, Mr. Collins continued to take pains, however grudgingly, to maintain his abject attentions toward the master of Pemberley—but only out of reverence for Lady Catherine and his exalted position as her most humble servant.

On one particular morning, Darcy, after bearing witness to Elizabeth’s agitation and discomfort while in the presence of her cousin, requested they walk out together with Jane and Bingley. She readily agreed.

As the ladies went to their room to fetch some warmer attire for their outing, Mr. Collins, who was lingering just outside in the hall, happened to overhear Darcy remark in a low, disgusted voice to Bingley about his very great displeasure with the clergyman for his continued interest and scrutiny of Elizabeth. A few other choice words of observation on the subject were exchanged between the two gentlemen before they were finally rejoined by Elizabeth and Jane. Exchanging warm smiles, the foursome then removed themselves from the house.

Mr. Collins was incensed. Was it not enough Darcy had managed to rob him of the connubial felicity he felt sure would have resulted from an alliance with his pretty cousin? Now he had also seen fit to publicly censure him, as well—and after all the condescension and preference he had continued to show him as the nephew of his patroness!
No, I am not deserving of this infamous treatment, even though Mr. Darcy is such a wealthy man and the favored nephew of Lady Catherine de Bourgh!
A smile then overspread his indignant face as he suddenly imagined the reaction his patroness would have upon learning she was likely to gain an untitled niece who was clearly without fortune or connections.
Yes, Lady Catherine will have much to say on that subject, but first…
It was with alacrity that Mr. Collins quitted the room and went in search of Mr. Bennet.

***

It was not until several hours later that the professed lovers finally wandered back to Longbourn—Bingley and Jane smiling, Darcy and Elizabeth laughing, and all four in obvious high spirits. Darcy had barely removed his greatcoat and hat when Mr. Bennet approached him with a grim countenance and ushered Elizabeth and him into his library, where they were surprised to find Mr. Collins sitting smugly in one of the chairs near the fire. Elizabeth’s father took his usual position behind his desk and began without preamble. “Mr. Darcy,” he said severely, “I am afraid Mr. Collins has recently brought to my attention a matter of some import regarding your intentions toward Elizabeth.”

Darcy fixed the clergyman with an icy glare before replying, “And precisely what, may I ask, is this matter of great import that would so prompt Mr. Collins to dare to question my intentions toward Miss Elizabeth?”

Before another word could be spoken, Mr. Collins inclined his head and began addressing Elizabeth. “My dear young cousin,” he said with his usual haughty flourish, “I know not how the nephew of my esteemed patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, has imposed upon you, and far be it from me to rejoice in being the bearer of such grievous news that will, no doubt, mortify you while leaving nothing but pain and disgrace in its wake. I feel, however, that my very respectability as a clergyman qualifies me to assume the unhappy role of apprising unfortunate young ladies such as yourself of certain events that you must have brought to your attention for your own very great benefit, and with all due haste.

“Though your charms are numerous, fair Cousin Elizabeth, I see no cause at this time to lay any blame
directly
upon you, per se, for even I, a man of such humility and condescension in the eyes of God, have found myself recently under the spell of your feminine arts and allurements…”

Mr. Bennet cast Mr. Collins a look of warning.

Darcy could hardly believe this ridiculous man had not only failed to arrive at his point but had actually managed to insult Elizabeth with his offensive accusations. “Good God, man, have you anything of even marginal sense to impart?” he demanded with irritation. “As of this moment, you have done nothing but ramble on in a completely reprehensible manner and insult a lady. I will not have it. Either come to your point or have done.”

Catching Mr. Bennet’s eye, which had been fixed firmly upon him with a look of displeasure—and misinterpreting it entirely—Mr. Collins contorted himself into a bow of capitulation. “Yes, of course, my dear Mr. Darcy! Please allow me to take this opportunity to offer you my most humble apologies for my unforgivable failure to properly apprise my patient young cousin of the important news I have yet to impart on behalf of you and your aunt, the most affable and generous Lady Catherine de Bourgh, a woman of the highest condescension…” and on he went as anxiety began to intrude upon Darcy, for he had suddenly realized what it was his aunt’s clergyman wished to tell Elizabeth and had probably already told her father.

He was furious but somehow managed to convey nothing stronger than contempt. “Yes, thank you, Mr. Collins. We all know how much you admire my aunt, but I have reached the end of my patience. I now feel with absolute confidence I can guess precisely what it is you are trying so inarticulately to convey to Miss Elizabeth, and you can rest assured, sir, it is a matter that does not concern you.”

Mr. Bennet spoke then, his voice harsh. “Perhaps not, Mr. Darcy, but I believe you might agree that, as Elizabeth’s father, it most certainly does concern
me
.”

Elizabeth did not know what to think; she had not been able to make sense of anything that had been said thus far.

Seeing her confusion, Mr. Collins addressed her yet again. “My poor, naïve cousin, forgive me for saying so, but you have been most injuriously deceived, for I am certain beyond a doubt Mr. Darcy could never have been serious in his attentions to you, no matter how marked they appeared to have been. I have it on excellent authority, from Lady Catherine de Bourgh herself, he is engaged to be married to her very own daughter, Miss Anne de Bourgh of Rosings Park in Kent.”

Elizabeth started at this declaration. Her eyes met Darcy’s with disbelief. “No,” she whispered, shaking her head with vehemence. “No. Everything you have said to me—everything that has passed between us—it is not true. What Mr. Collins says cannot possibly be true.”

Darcy moved immediately to her side and, against propriety, took both her hands. “You are quite right, it is most definitely
not
true,” he said with feeling, and then, so softly only Elizabeth would hear his words, he added, “my dearest love.”

Still retaining her hands, he fixed her father with a level stare and proclaimed, “Mr. Bennet, any rumor of a pending alliance with my Cousin Anne is precisely that and nothing more. I can heartily assure you, sir, neither she nor I have ever desired such a union between us, nor will such a union ever take place. For many years now it has been solely the wish of my aunt, whom you may readily imagine is not used to brooking opposition on matters she has long ago arranged in her mind to suit none but her own purpose. I do not answer to her, Mr. Bennet, and I believe you are well acquainted with my wishes and intentions regarding your daughter.”

Mr. Bennet visibly relaxed. “Yes, Mr. Darcy, that I am. I hope you can understand why I felt moved to question you regarding your intentions toward Lizzy in such a situation. Indeed, it could not be avoided.”

Darcy nodded curtly, and both men glanced at a nearly apoplectic Mr. Collins.

Elizabeth’s eyes suddenly filled with tears. No matter what anyone else might be persuaded to believe, she was absolutely certain her cousin’s intentions were motivated by malice. Without even so much as a glance toward any of the gentlemen, she pulled her hands from between Darcy’s, ripped open the library door, and fled from the room.

Darcy immediately made to follow her, his concern propelling him, but found himself prevented from crossing the threshold to the main foyer by Mr. Bennet’s firm voice. “Let her go, Mr. Darcy. If I know my daughter, she is only in need of some time to herself. I believe all will be well, but for now, I suggest you indulge her. She will return to us in due time.”

***

Elizabeth lay upon her bed, a stream of tears flowing across her cheeks and onto the embroidery of her pillow. So consumed was she by her roiling emotions and her fear of the loss she had very nearly incurred, they now eclipsed even her hostility toward Mr. Collins for his perverse machinations. After her cousin’s display, she could no longer deny that what she felt for Darcy was far more than simple warmth or excessive fondness. No, after the conversation that had taken place in her father’s library and her powerful reaction to it, Elizabeth knew in her heart she was far beyond mere friendship. She was in love with him. She was in love with Fitzwilliam Darcy.

Should Mr. Collins’s words have been true, the disappointment Elizabeth would surely have suffered would have been beyond painful. She now knew that, had Darcy actually been engaged to his Cousin Anne—bound to her by honor and by duty—she would never have recovered from such a loss. The thought of living the rest of her life without him, without his searing touch, his ardent looks, or his superior society suddenly made the insistent pounding in her head increase to an almost unbearable level.

Jane’s concerned voice called to her from the other side of the door, but feeling unequal to facing anyone at the moment, Elizabeth choked back the hot lump that had lodged in her throat and ignored her. It was not long, however, before the last fragments of her composure crumbled completely. With a muffled sob, she shed bitter, resentful tears for what had nearly been taken from her—the only future she could now envision for herself—a future with Darcy. A future as his wife. Collapsing under the strain of the morning’s events, she soon cried herself to sleep.

***

Elizabeth did not return for several hours. When she did finally make an appearance, however, it was obvious to all in attendance that she had been crying. Darcy felt a new surge of contempt for Mr. Collins, but, if only for the sake of Elizabeth’s serenity, he swallowed the bile that had risen in his throat, and held his tongue.

Understanding their need to discuss what had occurred, Mr. Bennet decided to bend the boundaries of strict propriety and allow Darcy a private interview with his daughter in one of the smaller parlors in the rear of the house. The room was light and airy, and the last rays of the setting sun could be seen filtering through the sheer curtains. It was a room Elizabeth favored on those cold, wet days when she would find herself confined to the house for extended periods of time. It was, in a sense, a sanctuary for her, a refuge from the constant badgering of her mother and the tittering and arguing of her youngest sisters. She was grateful to her father for his unexpected gesture.

Leaving the door open, Darcy guided her to a sofa near the fire. To his surprise, she did not take a seat beside him but settled herself upon his lap and wrapped her arms about his neck, holding him close. He closed his eyes and enfolded her in his embrace, more than happy to breathe in her heady lavender scent and feel the warmth of her body pressing against his own. After several minutes of silence, however, Darcy felt compelled to speak and, in a low voice, said, “I am so very sorry you had to bear witness to such a ridiculous display earlier.”

His apology was cut short by Elizabeth’s firm voice. “There is no need to say anything, Fitzwilliam, and there was certainly nothing ridiculous about what transpired. I am afraid everything that was said today was uttered in a vindictive spirit and was aimed to harm us, perhaps irreparably. Wretched, hateful man! I cannot forgive his interference.” She drew away from him, but only far enough to gaze upon his face and brush an unruly curl from his forehead. “My love,” she whispered, “if you had truly been promised to your cousin, however could I have learned to live without you?”

Darcy’s breath caught in his throat as he stared at her. “Elizabeth!” he whispered urgently, “Please, dearest, will you not say it again?”

“Say what again, Fitzwilliam?” she asked as she proceeded to kiss his jaw, her hands leaving a delightful path of fire across his shoulders.

He closed his eyes briefly as he reached out his hands to still the movement of hers. “You called me your
love
, Elizabeth,” he said with a hitch in his voice. “I have dreamed of hearing those words fall from your lips for so very long. I have prayed every day to be granted the privilege of knowing such sweetness as it flows from your beloved mouth. Elizabeth, I beg of you, please tell me this is not merely another dream from which I will again awaken to disappointment.”

“Oh, Fitzwilliam,” she whispered, “after all we have shared, after all that has passed between us, how could you doubt it? How could you not feel it? Indeed, I love you with all my heart.” After all she had allowed him, the idea that Darcy might need verbal confirmation of her love seemed incredible.

He reached for her, and she wrapped him tightly in her arms. Breathing deeply, Darcy buried his face against the curve of her neck and murmured, “I have loved you for what seems to me an eternity, Elizabeth. Indeed, I have long been in need of you, even before I came to know of your existence. You can have no idea how much it means to me, after months of despair and weeks of uncertainty, to hear you say you love me. You have made me so happy. Indeed, I could wish for nothing more, nothing more except…” The words died on his lips as he realized it was probably too soon to broach the subject of marriage once again.