Mr. Darcy's Comfort Page 9

  “She thinks I am mistaken because of my grief. She offered me comfort and understanding and thinks I have confused that with love.”

  “That is not an argument without grounds.” Mr. Bennet replied. “It can happen.”

  Darcy drew and released a breath. “If my feelings for her had begun after I learned of Anne’s death, I might consider her argument to plausibly be valid.” Guilt roiled in his stomach.

  “Anne was an easy solution to my need for a wife until I met your daughter. Then, my duty to Anne began to feel just like that – a duty.” His heart ached to admit such things, but even if he had tried, he could not have contained his thoughts, for in his current state of mind, he needed to be counselled by someone who might guide him. He shook his head. “I did not know what to do. I was writing to my cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam to ask his advice when he arrived with the news of Anne’s accident.”

  “Hits you in the gut, does it not? You wish to be free from an obligation and then it appears most unexpectedly, and you begin to wonder if it was in some way brought on by your desires.”

  Darcy stared at Mr. Bennet. How did the man know that?

  Mr. Bennet shrugged. “You are not the first gentleman to find himself in such a situation. When I was young – much younger than you even. I longed to be free of my father. I wished to pursue a career in education.” A smile played at the gentleman’s mouth as he stared at the wall across the room. What he saw there in his memories, Darcy did not know.

  “My father wished for me to become a parson. He had connections and could have gotten me a good living, or so he said.” His accompanying sigh was as weary and worn a sound as Darcy had ever heard.

  “He would have had me near home. He always wanted his children gathered where he could direct their comings and goings. I was intent on my dream and argued my position vehemently. I did not wish to instruct only as prescribed by the church. I wished to explore science, to discover things, to read great lengthy tomes and expound upon them. My father, of course, threatened to cut me off, and so I acquiesced. I studied what he told me as well as a few things he did not, chafing the whole time and wishing to be free of him.”

  He turned his gaze to Darcy. “His heart stopped working one day, and my brother came into his inheritance. I continued my studies in preparation for taking orders. I could have studied whatever I wished, but the weight of having wished to be free of my father and his demands hung heavily on me.”

  “You were going to be a clergyman?” Darcy asked in surprise.

  “I was until my brother succumbed to a fever, and I was left with this.” He spread his arms wide, indicating the estate. “Just months before I took orders and while I was betrothed to a pretty young merchant’s daughter.” He shook his head. “Had I been a compliant son with a happy disposition, my father still would have died. Just because I wished to be free of him at the same time he died does not mean that one precipitated the other. The same is true for you. Your desires had no part in the death of your betrothed. Such things leave us with some unsettled matters, however.”

  Darcy nodded. “Anne would have released me from my duty, but I could not have been released from my promise to my mother.” He smiled wryly. “My uncle assures me I have fulfilled it, but there is a twinge now and again because I had considered not keeping that promise.”

  “You love my Lizzy so much that you considered disappointing your mother?”

  Darcy blew out a breath and nodded. “I do. I do not know how it happened, but she holds my heart.”

  Mr. Bennet chuckled weakly. “I believe that is the way every gentleman who has married for love has felt. It creeps up on you, ensnaring you while you are unaware. I do not know you as well as I would like, Mr. Darcy, but I believe you would do well with my Lizzy. If I do not survive long enough for her to come to her senses, know that you have my blessing. I have heard tell of your fortune, so I know she will want for nothing in this physical world, but more importantly, I know she will be loved.”

  “Most ardently,” Darcy agreed.

  Mr. Bennet shifted again in his bed. “Now, about your friend and my Jane.”

  Darcy chuckled. “Shall I send him to see you?”

  “Aye, if he loves her.” He stifled a yawn.

  “I have overstayed my time,” Darcy said, moving to rise. “And have kept you from your rest.”

  “I have enjoyed your visit, and,” Mr. Bennet said. “I have no desire to rest, young man. However, it seems I have no choice.”

  Darcy smiled. “I have sent for my physician. He treated my father.”

  Mr. Bennet cocked his head to the side. “I thank you, and I will gladly see him.” His brows drew together. “I fear there is little he can do, but I will see him.” He winced and rubbed his chest. “If you would be so kind, would you seek out my Lizzy and send her to me. I must make things right with her, or she will be left with a terrible weight should my time be shorter than even I realize.”

  “I will see that she comes to see you,” Darcy assured him. Then he ducked out of the room and went in search of Elizabeth. Her father was not the only one who needed to apologize.

  ~*~*~

  Darcy’s search was not long in duration, for he had the good fortune of coming upon Mr. Collins as he was descending the stairs.

  “Ah, Mr. Darcy, have you been with Mr. Bennet this whole time?”

  “I have been. It seems we had a great deal about which to speak.”

  “Good. Good,” Collins said as he stepped up one step most likely on his way to see Mr. Bennet or to retire to his room.

  “Have you see Miss Elizabeth?” Darcy asked.

  Mr. Collins returned to his lower position on the stairs. “I did see her. She was dressed for a walk, but she assured me she is only going as far as the edge of the garden and did not need a chaperone. If she should be needed, she said she could easily be found.” The man moved up a step once again but then turning back a second time, he lowered his voice and added, “This episode with her father is unsettling for us all, and she appeared overcome with emotion. I tell you this,” he looked up the stairs and then down, “so that you might be prepared. I have an extra handkerchief if you should need one.”

  “I am well-supplied, but I thank you for your offer. It was most generous,” Darcy said.

  Collins seemed delighted with such a compliment, but before he could elaborate beyond an acceptance of Darcy’s gratitude, Darcy continued his descent of the stairs. The garden. The edge of the garden. That is where he needed to be. Not standing on the stairs listening to Mr. Collins.

  Elizabeth was right where she said she would be, pacing along the low border at the back of the garden, pausing when she came to the opening that led to a path which would take one to the wilderness beyond. He suspected she would dearly love to take that path, for he knew how much she loved to walk.

  “Miss Elizabeth,” he said as he approached.

  She stopped but did not turn toward him.

  “Your father sent me to find you.”

  She wiped at her cheeks with one gloved hand and nodded mutely, but still she did not turn toward him.

  He took a step toward her. “I would have come to find you even without his request.”

  He watched her brush her cheeks once again, and fishing his handkerchief from his pocket, he began moving forward but while being careful to stay behind her. He did not wish to intrude when she most likely longed to express her grief in private. Extending his hand around her side, he offered his handkerchief silently.

  “Thank you,” she whispered as she took it.

  He stepped back one step, no more. He did not even wish to be that far from her. He longed to embrace her, to allow her to weep on his shoulder, to hold her and soothe her, but it was not his place. Therefore, it was best if he remained at least a small distance from her.

  “I must apologize,” he began. “I should not have mentioned anything about my desires.”

  She nodded as she dried her eyes and d
rew a shuddering breath.

  “Your father wishes to see you,” Darcy said softly. “Do not wait too long before returning to him.”

  She turned toward him, her eyes still filled with tears. “He is dying.”

  Darcy nodded. “He is.”

  “And you were talking about matchmaking and marrying?” She shook her head as if it was a thought that could not be accepted because it was too reprehensible.

  Darcy swallowed. “We were.”

  “Why?” she demanded.

  Darcy blew out a breath and, turning to his right, looked out into the wilderness beyond the garden. “You were going to tell me of your friend,” he said, “and one day, I would still like to know about her, but do you remember how you felt about life when she died?” He glanced at her, and she nodded.

  “It seemed shorter somehow, did it not?” he asked.

  “Immeasurably.”

  “When my mother died, life grew shorter. I felt vulnerable and less protected, but life proceeded without much change on my part. Then, my father died, and I took on the responsibilities of an estate and a sister.” He sighed. “I have done better with Pemberley than I have with my sister.”

  Turning back toward the garden, he faced her. “Once again, with my father’s death, life grew shorter. There was one fewer person between me and death.” He shook his head and looked at the sky just above her, willing his own emotions to remain under regulation. “But life continued on, weightier than it had been, but it continued. Responsibilities arose and were tended to. Months and years passed, just as they always had. And then Anne died.” He drew and released a deep breath. “She was so young.”

  He turned toward the wilderness again. “It is not as if I had not heard of a young person dying. I have attended funerals for infants and sent my condolences to husbands who have lost wives.” Had he not, just three weeks ago, sent such a letter to one of his tenants after receiving news from his steward about the man’s wife dying while birthing their third child?

  He turned toward her and offered his arm. “But Anne…Anne was mine, and then she was gone. And as much as it pains me to think it, life will go on without her.”

  They began pacing toward the far end of the border. “However, this time, I cannot allow life to remain the same.”

  The garden was silent save for the sounds of boots on dormant grass for a short time until Darcy broke the silence. “I intend to embrace life before it is lost to me, and that is why I was speaking of marriage and matchmaking with your father.”

  He stopped as they reached the end of their path and lifting her hand from his arm, he turned toward her without releasing it.

  “I will not remind him of the brevity of his life. If he wishes to discuss your sister and my friend in the privacy of his room, I will do it. And when I saw the opportunity to discover if I would have his blessing to court you should I ever be fortunate enough to secure your approval, I took it. It was perhaps not done as it should have been, but I did not want to always wonder.” He squeezed her hand. “Can you forgive me?”

  He held his breath as he waited for her to ponder his words. Finally, her head bobbed slowly up and down, and he released his breath.

  “Your father wishes to see you,” he repeated.

  Her lips curved up slightly.

  “May I see you to the house, Miss Elizabeth?”

  “Yes, Mr. Darcy, you may.”

  He wrapped her hand around his arm and escorted her to the house.

  “Miss Elizabeth,” he said as they were about to part ways. He would see that his carriage and things were removed from the house while she would go see her father. He longed to stay but knew he could not.

  “Yes,” she replied, turning away from the staircase and back toward where he stood in the entry.

  “I am only at Netherfield. If anything changes, if you find you are in need of anything, anything at all, please send for me.”

  “I will.”

  She turned toward the stairs but only took two steps toward them before turning back. “Mr. Darcy,” she called and then waited until he had finished telling Mr. Hill what he needed.

  “Yes, Miss Elizabeth?”

  “I should like it if you would call.” She ducked her head in such a fashion that, Darcy suspected, had her cheeks not already been rosy from the coolness of the day, they would have been tinged with pink.

  “You would?” He could not keep the smile from his lips.

  “I would,” she replied, lifting her eyes to him. “And,” she added as her lips curled into a small smile, “you may bring your friend if you want. I am certain my sister would be delighted to see him.”

  Darcy’s smile grew, and he arched a brow. “At a time like this?” he questioned softly.

  Her head turned just a touch in the direction of the stairs, and her eyes lifted as if she were looking at the floor above. She nodded. “Yes, I think now would be perfect.”

  “Are you certain you wish for me to call on you?”

  Again, she nodded and took a step closer to him, so that she could speak in a softer tone. “I am not agreeing to a courtship.” There was a note of caution in her voice. “I am still not convinced that you are not pursuing me due to grief, nor am I convinced it is not anxiety making me accept you. However, I should like to discover the truth,” again, her eyes lifted toward the ceiling, “before it is too late.”

  Darcy rejoiced at the hope her words brought. “I shall return this afternoon with my friend — if that would be acceptable.” He was certain he had never seen such a sweet welcoming smile as the one she wore as she assured him it was indeed acceptable. Then with a parting curtsey and a final look over her shoulder at him from part way up the stairs, she was gone, and Darcy departed Longbourn with a comforting new joy in his heart.

  Chapter 11

  For two days, Darcy and Bingley were the only callers admitted to the house while Mr. Bennet convalesced. Each afternoon, they sat in the sitting room with their ladies before being sent up to Mr. Bennet’s room where he told them tales of his daughters when they were young and listened to exploits from the gentlemen as well.

  On the third day after falling ill, Mr. Bennet had had enough of his frailty and insisted upon being taken to his book room, and callers were once again accepted beyond the two men he knew would be his sons if he should survive long enough to witness it.

  It was on this day that Darcy was greeted by a most unwelcome sight upon entering the sitting room at Longbourn, for reclining in a chair near Elizabeth was…

  “Wickham.” He attempted to keep his tone flat, but from the way Elizabeth’s eyes grew just a tiny bit larger, he knew he had failed to keep all of his displeasure from his tone.

  “Darcy,” Wickham responded with what was not quite his normal amount of ease. That was good. He should feel a trifle uneasy. In fact, he should feel extremely uneasy.

  “Of all the vermin…” Richard muttered as he entered behind Darcy.

  That was the moment when Wickham’s slight disquiet turned to obvious anxiety as he stood.

  “Colonel Fitzwilliam,” he said with a bow. “I had not thought to see you. I had heard Darcy was at Netherfield, but I heard no word of your arrival.”

  “Did you not?” Richard crossed the room. “The room seems rather full.”

  “Indeed, it does,” Wickham agreed without moving from his place.

  Richard’s eyes narrowed. He looked to Wickham’s left where Lydia sat and then toward Darcy before procuring a chair from the far corner of the room and wedging it between Wickham and the youngest Miss Bennet.

  Lydia huffed.

  “He is not for you,” Richard explained.

  Lydia’s mouth gaped open for a half minute before she snapped it closed and folding her arms, glared at Richard. “That is not for you to decide,” she snapped.

  “Very well,” Richard replied. “Do you have a fortune?”

  Lydia blinked and stammered a no.

  “Then, as I said, he is n
ot for you. The last young lady he importuned was an heiress – more his type. He has no land and quite likely not many pounds to his name. Are you willing to be impoverished?”

  Darcy chuckled softly to himself at the look of utter loathing Lydia leveled at Richard, not that Richard would be perturbed by such.

  “Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy said while his resolute cousin continued to stare down the immovable Lydia Bennet, “I had hoped to take a walk in the garden. The sun is bright.”

  She smiled at him and held out her hand, which he took readily and drew her to her feet.

  Wickham’s brows rose. “So that is how it is, is it?”

  Darcy did not appreciate the note of laughter in the man’s voice, but rather than succumb to the urge to flatten him, he tucked Elizabeth’s hand in the crook of his arm and replied with a simple yes, followed by an offer to join them if he wished.

  “I should like to take a walk,” Lydia said, popping out of her chair.

  “So would I,” said Richard, rising and placing himself between her and Wickham.

  “Not with you,” Lydia retorted.

  “I am not allowing you to walk with him,” Richard tipped his head toward Wickham.

  “You have no say.” Lydia took a step closer to him, her nostrils flaring.

  “Lydia,” Mrs. Bennet scolded. “He is a colonel.”

  “He is rude.”

  Mrs. Bennet nodded. “His approach is unconventional,” she admitted, “but he is a colonel, and his father is an earl. Go get your things and walk with him.”

  “You cannot mean it.” Lydia’s voice was tinged with horror.

  “Oh, but I do. Mr. Wickham can walk with…” Mrs. Bennet looked around the room, her eyes falling on Kitty.

  “No,” Richard snapped, drawing the woman’s attention.

  “I beg your pardon?” Mrs. Bennet’s eyes were wide, and her handkerchief fluttered.

  “Collins needs a partner,” Bingley interjected.