Chapter Three
Fitzwilliam Darcy vaulted off his bay stallion as he reached the end of the gravel carriage way leading up to his aunt's estate. He was tired and sweaty from the long hot ride.
He looked around, noting the neatly mowed grass about him, the tall hedges of rose bushes, the oak and ash trees shading the house on the sides, and the vast prospect down the drive he'd just traveled. There was a deer park, part of what had once been the royal hunting grounds of Henry VIII where he'd courted Anne Boleyn while hunting a few miles from this spot.
Four years since he had been to Rosings.
A thin servant boy ran out to take the reins of Darcy's horse. Darcy smiled at the young lad and tossed him a coin.
The place where Elizabeth refused him. The hint of that old pain was a little present with him, though he had long since recovered from his feelings for her.
The reason he had not married was that such women were rare. He had yet to see a woman in the ballrooms of London or the assemblies of Derbyshire who compared to Elizabeth, and he had looked.
When Darcy received the curt message ordering him to come immediately to Rosings, he had been tempted to ignore his aunt's summons. But she was his aunt.
The butler, Mr. Wood, bowed upon Darcy's entry into the shaded entry hall of the building. "The mistress informed us that you would come, but we did not know when. It shall take half an hour for your room to be prepared. Pamela" — Mr. Wood gestured at a pretty young maid — "will lead you to the room where you can refresh yourself before meeting her Ladyship."
"That is unnecessary, I'll not stay for longer than necessary to speak with her Ladyship. If she does not keep me for long, I can be back to London by nightfall."
"As you wish, sir."
There was something in the stiff bow of Mr. Wood that said that no matter what Darcy said, he would make the room up and expect Darcy to stay in it.
The reason Darcy had never returned had been silly. He had heard of the death of Mr. Bennet, and without Mrs. Collins's presence there was no possibility he would meet Elizabeth here. He didn't want to walk in the park again unless she was there to share that grove with him once more.
The insulting letter Lady Catherine sent in reply to his request that they meet in London instead of Rosings the next year did not encourage him to overcome irrational sentiment. In fact it gave him a quite rational reason to avoid his aunt.
When led to a room to refresh himself, Darcy splashed water over his face and vigorously wiped the dust off. He truly hoped he would not need to stay here overnight.
A pretty young maid who stared at him for a minute and blushed led Darcy to Lady Catherine's sitting room. The Lady sat in a large chair with massive armrests carved to look like lions paws. Her thin blue-veined hands rested on the walnut wood.
Due to the summer heat, all but one of the windows were shaded with light colored curtains to block the sun. But one window's curtains stood open so that the sunlight shined directly upon Lady Catherine, making her sit in a pool of light surrounded by the dimness of the room.
Silly theater. Darcy examined his aunt. She'd gone completely grey since he'd seen her last time and despite the thronelike chair, she looked smaller. Perhaps it was because of the thronelike chair. She could not fill it.
He'd heard about Lady Catherine's recent illness from Colonel Fitzwilliam, who had visited Rosings repeatedly since then. Despite knowing she had been unwell, Darcy was not been prepared for how much older his aunt looked.
There was a chair much too small for a man of Darcy's size in front of Lady Catherine's chair. All of the other seats had been removed from the center of the drawing room and pushed against the walls or removed from the room.
Darcy ignored the chair. He stood in a relaxed pose in the middle of the room. "Lady Catherine. It has been too many years. I am well, and you have heard that Georgiana is to be married, I hope you and Anne will travel to Chancey for the ceremony at the end of August."
"Sit!"
Darcy glanced at the chair. The chair was of an appropriate size for a fourteen year old. It was a small wooden thing. Darcy's legs would be scrunched up if he tried to sit in it. He looked back at Lady Catherine with raised eyebrows.
Did she really expect him to participate in such a theatrical game?
"I order you to sit! You are my nephew, and I am your superior in rank and family position."
Darcy looked back at the chair. His aunt's sense had not improved. Maybe he should simply walk out, but that would also be childish after the length of his ride. He'd known all along having anything to do with his aunt would be a mistake. "What matter do you wish to speak on?"
"You will sit, or I shall make you regret it."
"Lady Catherine, I am here at your request, but my family feeling extends no further than being willing to listen to you."
"You are here to obey. At last! It is time you marry Anne. I am done with your games of delay and resistance."
"Then we have nothing to speak of."
"I know what Georgiana did." Something in Darcy's stomach seized up as Lady Catherine leaned forward, gripping the clawed armrests of her chair with claw-like hands. "Yes! I know. You thought you could hide the filthy behavior of that creature who cannot truly be of the Fitzwilliam blood. But I know. I know!"
"I have no knowledge of what you speak about."
"She…she… It is not a matter a delicate creature such as myself can speak directly of. But you know! You know that thing she did with your father's godson. She is fit to marry no man. You know she is filthy! Yet! Yet you let her marry a man of noble blood such as the Earl of Chancey."
"That is untrue. Georgiana did no —"
"She is filthy! Filthy, I say. That handsome boy seduced her! She threw away her honor, her virtue, her childhood — she is filthy!"
"Madam. I do not know what you have been told, but though you are my aunt, I will not accept this abuse from you."
"She is defiled. Filthy! With Wickham!"
"I must assume Wickham told you that. The truth of the matter is that while she agreed to elope with Mr. Wickham, Georgiana did not—"
"Filthy! You believed her filthy lie. But you are the only one! The whole world — all of England! — shall hear me proclaim her sin. I will go to Chancey, I will go to his mother. I will go to his cousins. I will go to St. James and proclaim it during the cotillion. I shall pronounce it to everyone. Everyone shall hear!"
Lady Catherine's eyes bulged as she continued in a ranting, rising voice, "Everyone! Chancey shall throw filthy Georgiana aside; no one will ever speak to your beloved sister again. It is what she deserves for sporting in such a way with that charming, smiling creature your father doted upon."
"You are insane."
"No — you are the one who has lost his sanity! You accept that filth as your sister! But I shall tell everyone!"
"Madam, we are family — my mother, your sister — if you spoke that way it would profane her memory. You would be involved in scandal — and…and such a plan is insane."
"I am not mad! I know myself better than I ever have! Better than anyone has ever known themselves! I have a beautiful soul!"
The light in her eyes was full of glee. They looked at each other for a long time, Darcy silently testing her resolve.
Lady Catherine said, "I have been too kind to you. But spare the rod and spoil the child. I love you too much to allow you to continue as you have. Do not think I shall hesitate."
"Madam. This is insane. I do not wish to marry your daughter. I do not believe Anne wishes to marry me, so—"
"Do not insult Anne's name. She knows how to obey. Good people know how to obey! If you can't obey, you are not truly my nephew. I will know how to act!"
"If Georgiana — she does not deserve what scorn you would heap on her."
"I have sources! She loves that earl of hers. I'll break her heart, the way you've broken mine by refusing Anne. I will destroy her."
"Madam, we have nothing to speak about ever again. You may do as you will, but you will only expose your madness to the world. I shall not be blackmailed."
Darcy wanted to stalk from the room. But his anxiety for Georgiana held him.
"Then you choose to destroy her once more! It was your failure. Yours! If not for you, and her filthy, defiled, lack of character, she would never have been a victim of that handsome man who does not know his place."
"I beg you madam—"
"I will not be gainsaid. Either agree to marry Anne, and publically announce it this afternoon, or you will have destroyed your sister's happiness! Choose!"
Anne sat quietly in the hothouse when Darcy entered it. She had not heard him open the door, so he watched her — his soon to be betrothed — carefully snip the flowers for a minute.
Darcy felt numb inside, as though he'd received a mortal wound and his interior bled from it, but the shock was too great for him to feel the injury yet. But that was unfair. He looked at Anne. He studied her person. He was repulsed by the thought of sleeping with her. But it was not her fault that he'd never found her person beautiful. It was her fault though that she was too quiet, yet filled with her mother's arrogance.
Anne stood up and she gasped. "Darcy! Such a shock — what brought you here — Oh, no." Her face turned pale. "My mother. She has called you."
"Yes, your mother." Darcy's voice came out in a fast angry clip. "Anne, I have no choice but to ask for your hand. I will marry you if you agree." Her thin face was pale and she stared wide eyed at him. But she said nothing. Darcy added in a growl, "Do answer and make me the happiest man in the world."
The woman flinched and looked towards a bright yellow and orange blossom. She stared quietly at it with a tightly closed expression. The cast of her face told Darcy she was on the verge of tears.
Darcy unclenched his hands and let out a long breath of air. Women cared a great deal for the nature of a proposal speech. It was not Anne's fault; the desire for their union was Lady Catherine's, not her daughter's. "I apologize… It is not you, who…"
"She found some manner with which to control you at last." Anne sighed. She stared at her hands. For a long time nothing was said.
Despite the cloudy sky that had blotted out the blue of the earlier afternoon, the air in the greenhouse was warm and humid, and there was a rich smell of wet dirt and growing plants thick on the air. The flowers bloomed in a profusion of purple, orange, yellow and red. Anne twined her fingers together and shuffled her feet, looking side to side.
Darcy sat down on the small bench in the glass room. "Though this marriage is not what I wish, I promise to always respect you and treat you as I ought, and if there is some consideration you wish as my wife…"
"I do not wish to marry you any more than you wish to marry me! I love another, and I believe he loves me, and I hoped… Oh it doesn't matter! I was stupid! I hoped Mother would forget about you, or she would…die. I've prayed for her to die. But while she lives…"
Anne shivered. "You shall not escape this fate due to my refusal. I suppose she shall wish it quickly."
"As soon as the banns are read. She wishes it to be done properly, and there is enough time for that before Georgiana's wedding. I am to remain at Rosings until then. I will ask Georgiana and Chancey to come for our wedding and during our wedding trip we will go to see her married."
"Ah." Anne looked down again. She seemed to care little for his plans. She entwined her fingers together again, pressing them together until they were white. Tears leaked out the edge of her eyes.
Darcy believed he ought to comfort his betrothed. Perhaps he should put his arm around her, the way the man would to a woman he loved. They were to be married.
Nothing could possibly be more awkward, and he barely knew her.
He sat still and his mind wandered. He would need to write to Georgiana, and he must not let her see how unhappy he was, or else she might suspect the real cause of his marriage.
Suddenly Anne spoke in vibrant yet quiet voice, "I hate her. I hate her. I hate her."
Darcy looked at Anne. He hoped she would show some spirit and refuse him, as she ought. Instead she said, "I accept your kind proposal, Mr. Darcy. I am sure we will be very happy together."
"Emma, don't run in the halls — you might run into someone!"
The young girl laughed as she sped around the corner. Emma always became rambunctious when it was known there was little chance of seeing Lady Catherine. From around the corner there was a loud ooof of two bodies colliding, and then a girlish giggle.
With trepidation Elizabeth went to see what had happened.
The girl had run into a very tall man with broad shoulders and finely cared for tan buckskin breeches that molded admirably to his hips and the muscular curves of his legs. His smooth lips curled into a handsome and tolerant smile.
Emma backed away from him with a downcast shy look.
Elizabeth's first thought was that this gentleman looked very well indeed. "I do apologize for my ch-charge…" Elizabeth began blushingly, and then she trailed off and stared into the deep eyes of Mr. Darcy.
He held her gaze. Shock was in his eyes as well.
Elizabeth recalled, clearly as day, that last moment of their last meeting. Those same deep blue eyes, his hand holding out the letter, his eyes holding hers. She still kept that letter hidden amongst her most precious belongings.
His words: Will you do me the honor of reading that letter.
Emma drew back behind Elizabeth with a shy look.
Darcy said in a hoarse voice, "Good God! Elizabeth — Miss Bennet, pardon me — are you still Miss Bennet? — what do you do here? To meet you today, of all days. And here."
AN: T