Unravelling Mr. Darcy: A Pride and Prejudice Novella (A Dash of Darcy) Page 2

  She heard the concern in his voice and squeezed the hand that held hers. She wished with all her heart that she could ignore the pain her words and actions had caused her, but she could not. She would not. She had acted foolishly, and she must bear the consequences of such behaviour.

  “Thank you, Mr. Darcy. But, I must allow myself to feel the full measure of my shame, so I might not be so easily led in the future.”

  He pressed her hand once more before releasing it. “I understand. I have carried my guilt with me for some time.” He blew out a great burdened breath. “There is more I could tell you about that particular scoundrel, whom I once considered a friend.”

  “More?” she gasped. Was not the near ruin of a dear sister enough harm? What more could Mr. Wickham have done?

  Darcy nodded slowly. “However, I am not presently capable of speaking of him with equanimity, and I do not wish to speak unfairly, although I would not refuse to speak to you of him in the future.”

  “You are too good, sir!” Did he still offer friendship by speaking of the future? She was uncertain why such a thought lifted her heart, but it did.

  “No. I assure you I am not.” His voice was hard. “I…” He paused. “I have done as he did. I have broken your heart by breaking the heart of your sister. Though my motives may have been different, the result is the same, and it is inexcusable.” He bowed his head in shame.

  “You are most heartily wrong!” How could he think himself the same as a man who would trick an innocent into an elopement?

  His head snapped up, his eyes piercing hers with their intensity.

  “Did you plan to take advantage of my sister’s caring nature, sir?”

  He blinked. “Of course not!”

  “Did you think her irrevocably attached to your friend?” Charlotte’s admonition for Jane to make her feelings more apparent played in Elizabeth’s mind. Charlotte had been certain that Mr. Darcy admired Elizabeth, something that Elizabeth had protested — loudly — and yet, it seemed Charlotte had not been wrong. Perhaps she was also correct about Jane and Mr. Bingley.

  “I did not.”

  So, she had been wrong, and Charlotte had been right.

  “You feared his attachment was greater than hers?” she asked.

  “I did.”

  At least, she had been correct about Mr. Bingley’s loving Jane. So far tonight, that was the only thing about which she had been correct, and that knowledge stung. She had always prided herself on being correct in her assessments of people.

  “Did you fear she saw only his wealth?” she asked.

  “I could not do her such a disservice.”

  “But, my mother…” Elizabeth looked away, the tears were once again threatening. “She is indecorous at times.”

  He said nothing, his silence affirming her fears. Her family’s improprieties were not only a hindrance to him in coming to the point of declaring himself to her, but they were also, as Colonel Fitzwilliam had said, a reason to advise Mr. Bingley not to return to Netherfield and pursue Jane. The gravity of what was lost due to the lack of restraint of both her mother and her sisters was nearly overwhelming.

  “My father does little to curb her displays or those of my sisters. What respectable man would wish his friend attached to such a family!” This was not the well-reasoned argument she had planned, and she fought to regain her composure. “Your actions in such a light do you more credit than harm.”

  “But they still did harm — far more grievous than one could imagine,” he protested. “Not only have I deprived my friend of a worthy woman and, in so doing, broken the hearts of two ladies, but I find it has also resulted in the shattering of what remained of my own.” He stood. “But it is no more than I deserve. I shall leave you now.”

  “No.”

  He turned to look at her.

  “Please do not leave me so. I cannot bear being the source of such sorrow. Could we not try again?”

  “Renew my addresses, so you can accept me out of pity? I think not.” He shook his head but sat down once again.

  “No, not pity.” She shook her head in bewilderment. “I do not know what it is I feel, but it is not pity.” She looked at him, confusion clearly etched on her face. “Until this moment, I did not know you. I thought I did, but I was wrong. I viewed you through my prejudice. I allowed my pride to skew every thought. Would you…” She placed her hand on his arm. “Would you allow me the opportunity to become acquainted with the Mr. Darcy you are instead of the one I have contrived?”

  A mixture of hope and agony shone in his eyes. “Do I dare allow my heart to hope? My time at Rosings is at an end. How can you become acquainted with me if we are not together?”

  “Oh.” Her hand flew to her chest and rubbed softly at the tightness that had arisen there at being reminded of his departure.

  “Are you well?”

  “I do not know. I am oddly sad at the thought of your leaving Rosings. I suppose in all the events of this evening and the jumbled state of my mind, I had forgotten that it was to be so soon that we would lose your company.”

  He smiled knowingly at her — almost as if he knew what was causing her to feel as strange as she did.

  “I shall give you all the time you need to become acquainted with me, Miss Bennet,” he said. “You are to stay with your aunt and uncle for a time after you leave here, are you not?”

  She nodded.

  “May I call on you when you are in town?”

  “I would like that very much.” A smile crept to her lips as the pain in her chest vanished. What that meant, she would have to ponder later. For now, she would allow herself to feel this happiness.

  He rose again to take his leave. “Do not rise to see me out,” he said before she could move. “My cousin and I will call before we leave on the morrow. If there is anything you wish to send to your sister, we would be happy to deliver it.” He gathered his hat and gloves from the table where he had left them. “Do you require anything?”

  She shook her head. “Thank you, Mr. Darcy. Your assistance has already brought me much comfort.”

  “Very well, until tomorrow then.” He bowed over her hand and gave it a kiss, causing her to suck in a quick breath. He tipped his hat as he once again left the room and her behind. However, this time as he stepped out of the sitting room and moved to exit the parsonage he was in a much happier frame of mind, and though his heart still lay at her feet, he had hope — hope that his heart would one day find its happy home in her possession and that she, in turn, would give him hers.

  Chapter 3

  “You seem rather morose about leaving Rosings,” Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam said as he joined Darcy in the carriage the following day.

  Darcy shrugged. He did not particularly wish to speak to his cousin about why he was not as pleased to leave Rosings as he normally was wont to be. On most trips to visit his aunt, Lady Catherine, leaving was the highlight of the visit, and his cousin knew it.

  “You seemed to be dragging your feet to leave the parsonage just now.”

  Again Darcy shrugged.

  “You have not developed an affinity for nonsensical ramblings and incessant effusions, have you?”

  “No.” Darcy pulled out a book of verses and opened it to the place that was marked, attempting to ignore Richard’s raised brows and questioning look. The low chuckle from across the carriage, however, instinctively drew his eye.

  “Aunt Catherine will not be best pleased.” Richard smirked as he folded his arms across his chest and settled back into his seat.

  Darcy’s lips twitched. His aunt would be a great deal less than best pleased when she finally discovered that Darcy was attempting to win a lady who was not her daughter, Anne, as his wife. “When is she best pleased?”

  “Oh ho!” Richard laughed. “Do tell what you have done.”

  “Who says I have done anything?” Darcy hedged.

  “You.” Richard extended his legs across the short span between the carriage benches
and made certain to knock Darcy’s leg in the process. “You are avoiding a topic, which is what you do rather than lie about whatever it is that you do not wish to reveal.”

  Darcy smiled and shrugged before turning his eyes to the words on the page before him.

  “I’ll have the truth,” Richard said with a laugh. “You know I shall.”

  “Indeed, I do,” Darcy replied. “But you enjoy the process of wheedling it out of me, and I should so hate to rob you of the pleasure.” He closed his book and placed it on the bench next to him.

  “Very well,” Richard said with a grin, “I shall guess.”

  Darcy waved a hand to indicate to Richard that he had the floor.

  “You have fallen in love with the lovely Miss Bennet.”

  Darcy picked up his book once again. “You have deciphered it, and now I shall return to my reading.”

  Richard snatched the book from his cousin’s hands. “You have truly fallen in love?” There was no small amount of shock in his voice.

  Darcy sighed. “Yes, I do believe that is what this foolishness is. At least, I do not suppose it is merely an infatuation that drives a man, despite rational argument and obligation to duty, to offer marriage to a lady.”

  Richard blinked, and his mouth dropped open.

  Darcy watched as his cousin closed his mouth, opened it again, closed it once more, and then, with a shake of his head and a look of great perplexity, he finally spoke.

  “You proposed?”

  Darcy nodded.

  “To Miss Bennet?”

  Darcy nodded again.

  “Miss Elizabeth Bennet?”

  “That is the only Miss Bennet who was in residence at the parsonage.” Darcy’s lips curled up slightly. It was a rare sight for his cousin to be lost for words. Richard Fitzwilliam was not the sort of man to ever be caught unaware about much of anything.

  “I knew you liked her, but marriage?”

  “It seemed the thing to do.”

  Richard’s brows drew together, creating a deep crease between them. “The thing to do? The thing to do?” He shook his head. “What has become of you?”

  Darcy shrugged. “I honestly do not know, but if it will put your mind at ease, she refused me.”

  Richard scrubbed his face with his hands. “She refused you?”

  Darcy reached across the carriage and reclaimed his book, which Richard had discarded on the seat. “You know, Cousin, you are usually the more loquacious between us,” he taunted.

  Richard’s eyes narrowed, causing Darcy to grin broadly.

  “Allow me to see if I have this startling news correct,” Richard began. “You, the staid and steady, do only what is required and proper, Fitzwilliam Darcy, have actually fallen in love with a lady?”

  Darcy nodded.

  “And despite what I assume were sound arguments against making such a match, you have proposed to this lady?”

  Again Darcy nodded.

  “And this lady, whom I know to be intelligent, has refused you, your estate, and your income?”

  “No, she refused me,” Darcy responded. “Her rejection was clearly of me and nothing else.” His brows drew together for a moment. “Do you think me vain and conceited?”

  “She accused you of such?” Surprise coloured Richard’s tone.

  “Among other things,” Darcy replied. “Do you think me arrogant?”

  Still rather startled, Richard shook his head and shrugged. “You are aloof at times — so bent on presenting yourself in the best light that you do appear to look down your nose at others.”

  Darcy scowled. “Why did you not tell me I was being improperly proud?”

  Richard laughed. “Would you have listened?”

  Darcy shook his head. How had he allowed himself to become so proud? His parents had never taught him to be so, and he did not think himself unfeeling. How had he become so filled with who he was?

  “I do not think you arrogant,” Richard said. “You appear to be, but those of us who know you understand it is your unease. You do not fall into conversation easily unless you are at home among close friends and family. You are reserved and given to pondering and considering every option before making a decision. You have been given a great burden of responsibility in the care of Pemberley and your sister, and you fill the role of master credibly. None have suffered under your care.”

  Darcy shook his head. “Except my sister.”

  “The fault for Georgiana’s pain lies with Wickham,” Richard spat.

  Darcy nodded. “I know, but I cannot help feeling my share of the guilt.”

  Richard blew out a breath. “Nor can I.”

  The two men rode along in silence for several minutes before Richard once again knocked Darcy’s leg. “Tell me, if the lovely Miss Bennet, whom you claim to love, refused your offer of marriage, why are you delivering a letter to her sister and do not seem heartbroken?”

  Darcy smiled. “Because although she refused my proposal, she has allowed me the privilege of calling on her in town.”

  Richard’s eyes grew wide. “No, it cannot be.”

  “I assure you it is.”

  A grin split Richard’s face. “And the letter gives you the opportunity to meet her uncle before you call on his niece. I had not thought you so sly.”

  Darcy laughed. “I am not. If her uncle is home when I deliver the letter, and I am able to meet him, it will be a happy coincidence. I offered to deliver the letter to her sister because it seems I have played a role in injuring her.” He tipped his head, and his eyes narrowed. “About her sister. Perhaps you would care to tell me how Miss Bennet came to know that I played a part in separating Bingley from her sister.”

  Richard grimaced. “Miss Bennet’s sister was Bingley’s most recent angel?”

  Darcy nodded.

  Richard sighed and began his explanation.

  ~*~*~

  Darcy grabbed Richard’s arm as he moved to disembark the carriage in front of Darcy House. “Not a word about Miss Bennet to Georgiana or our grandmother.”

  “May I tell my father?” Richard asked with a smirk.

  Darcy’s eyes narrowed. “No. Allow me to clarify further. No one is to know about Miss Bennet until such time as I make it known. She may change her mind between today and when she arrives in town and refuse to see me.” He hoped she would not, but it was entirely possible that her opinion, once Elizabeth had time to consider, might change.

  No, he thought, it would not. She had blushed and smiled at him when he and Richard had called at the parsonage before they departed Kent. That was surely a good sign, was it not?

  “You are doing it again,” Richard said as he moved toward the open door.

  “Doing what?” Darcy asked following behind his cousin.

  “Imagining disaster.” Richard straightened his coat and waited for Darcy to alight and stand next to him. “From what you have told me, until Lady Catherine discovers your defection, you have survived the worst of it.” He chuckled. “And keeping this bit of news from our dear aunt will be easiest if not a word is ever shared.”

  He clapped Darcy on the shoulder. “When you deliver that letter, request that you be allowed to steal Miss Elizabeth away to Gretna Green. It would be easier to inform Lady Catherine once the union is irrevocable as there would be less chance she could interfere and all.”

  They walked up the steps to the door together.

  “There will likely still be a fit of fury to be endured, but she would not be able to drive the poor young lady scurrying if she is already your wife.”

  Darcy shook his head. Leave it to his cousin to devise schemes and tactics to circumvent and outwit those who stood in the path of a desired result. Richard had always been that sort, however. Negotiating sticky situations seemed to be his greatest talent — if you did not consider the fact that many of the circumstances that needed evading were of his own creation.

  “I only ask that you do not speak of this until I am prepared to answer to any an
d all on my own behalf as well as that of Miss Bennet,” Darcy said as he handed his outerwear to a footman.

  “And how do you plan to keep the fact that you are calling on a lady from your sister?” Richard followed Darcy down the hall to his study.

  “I shan’t. But there is no need to endure her questions or those of Lady Margaret until I have actually called on Miss Bennet and can answer with something more than hopes and wishes. And that is why you shall not say a word to Georgiana or your grandmother.”

  He picked up and sorted through the stack of letters on his desk. He would not work on any business today, but he did wish to see what sort of things awaited his attention.

  Richard flopped into a chair in front of Darcy’s desk. “Grandmother is curious, is she not?”

  Darcy lifted his eyes from the letters in his hand. “Indeed, and observant.”

  The Dowager Countess of Matlock — or Lady Margaret as she insisted upon being called since dowager was, in Lady Margaret’s unique sort of logic, a term for a frail old woman, and Lady Margaret, though not precisely young and robust, was not to be considered either old or frail — was keenly observant and ferociously curious. Not much escaped her notice, and she was nearly as relentless as Richard in finding out whatever bit of information she deemed she must know.

  “I will not breathe a word of it,” Richard assured.

  “A word of what?” Georgiana asked from the doorway.

  “Georgiana, you know you are not to be listening to other people’s conversations,” her brother scolded as he deposited all the letters on his desk and crossed the room to envelop her in a hug. “I have missed you.”

  “And I you, Brother,” she replied. “How are Aunt Catherine and Anne?”

  “They are as they always are,” he replied as he released her from his embrace.

  “So cantankerous and nearly invisible?” Georgiana asked, ignoring her brother’s scowl and turning to give Richard a welcoming hug.

  “It is not how you should speak of your relations,” Richard chided, “but, yes. However, I do think Anne was even more withdrawn than she has been on previous visits.”