Merely a week had passed since Mr. And Mrs. Darcy's disappearance into the secluded cabin located somewhere on Mr. Darcy's vast Scottish estate. While it is not polite to dwell on the intimate dealings of any two people, it is important to note that Darcy was not disappointed in the reality of his previous daydreams involving Elizabeth and said cabin. Undeniably, the daydreams could not live up to the reality of leaping flames in the fireplace, tingling wine, and dancing eyes. Therefore, it was with heavy hearts that Darcy and his new wife set out to leave their honeymoon hideaway. They would liked to have had a considerably longer honeymoon, but due to the unusual circumstances surrounding their marriage, decided that the increased activity at Darcy's residence and the complete lack of knowledge on the Bennet family's half, were pressing situations indeed.
Walking up the wide steps arm in arm, they were at first unaware of the increasing noises emanating from the previously serene house (Perhaps they had simply become accustomed to the very loud "disagreements of the Jones sisters). But when the undeniable sound of smashing glass accosted their ears, they simultaneously broke into a mad dash to reach the offenders quickly. The sounds of fighting, for fighting it surely was, came from a small sitting room to the side of the entrance. The door stood wide open; servants peeked cautiously in, wishing to see the commotion, but not wishing to be hit by various flying objects in the process. Darcy and Elizabeth did not wait to enter the room cautiously, instead they charged into the room, Darcy taking in the scene in one quick second. The room was split. Mr. Richards stood on one side of the room, valiantly attempting to hold back a raging Rene while casting worried glances at his new fiancé who stood, hands on hips, glaring ominously at the occupants of the other side of the room. Darcy was not sure, as he was sure Richards was not sure, that Elaina was not going to do more than just glare. She seemed perched on the edge of violent action. However, since her younger sister had already toppled over said edge, it was more important to make sure her flailing fists and kicking knees did not come in contact with the object (or objects) of their desire.
The occupants of the other side of the room were astonishing to say the least. Darcy had not thought that such a cataclysm was possible. Surely some demon in hell had set his store against him for there was no other way in which this combination of… annoyances to say it lightly, could ever come together. Or perhaps, thought Darcy uncharacteristically lightly, it was fated for such unwelcome and wholly unappealing personages to unite. For unite they had. And a more unholy and frightening triumvirate could certainly not be found, for the combined powers of Caroline Bingley, William Collins, and Lady Catherine De Bourgh stood aghast on the other side of the room.
Darcy spared a quick look for Elizabeth who looked exceedingly shocked one second, then exceedingly amused the next. And truthfully, Elizabeth was not over worried. Had perhaps this trio arrived a week and a day earlier, before she had secured her beloved husband, she might have felt worry, dread even, but as it was, she could not be harmed. Unless, that is, this combined threat had called upon some unearthly powers to gain their wills. But that, of course, was highly unlikely.
"Darcy!" exclaimed Lady Catherine, ever in charge as always. "Call away these heathens! They say they are guests in your home, but you obviously would not allow such wild chits to abide under your roof!" She had apparently decided to deal with the most immediate threat first.
"You evil old hag!" exclaimed Rene before anyone could comment. "Elizabeth! She's here to tear you from Mr. Darcy! And to… to… to give you to him!" she cast a disgusted and accusatory finger in Mr. Collins' direction. "And she," now the finger turned towards Caroline, "means to have Mr. Darcy for herself!"
"Will you allow such blatant disrespect for myself Darcy! Will you? Will you! Surely you will see to her immediate removal from this premise! Do not fret with it! I can do it for myself!" At that, she began to screech the name of some unknown servant.
"Aunt Catherine!" Bellowed Darcy, attempting to gain control of the overwhelming situation. "The commotion shall desist this very moment!" If the racket made within the house had not been heard for miles, surely Mr. Darcy's voice had. Silence inevitably ensued this loud command, and strangely (but perhaps not so strange), triumphant grins grew upon the lips of all in the room, except for Mr. and Mrs. Darcy who were quite perturbed by the disturbance.
Lady Catherine's triumphant mien was spurred by the idea that her nephew was about to call off those wild monsters in the form of young girls and he hope that he would soon renounce the pretty young lady on his arm and throw her to the man she was really supposed to be married to. Lady Catherine of course, was soon to be disappointed, for with a fierce gaze, her own nephew turned on her!
"Aunt Catherine, what is the meaning of this? You have never stepped foot in Scotland in your life, and now you come not only into a foreign land, but into my home!"
"Your home is my home Darcy! I do not know what you mean by all this!" she sent a worried glance toward Rene and Elaina. "Send those things from the room this instant!"
"What things?" inquired Elizabeth. "The chairs, the tables, the pictures perhaps?" Elizabeth knew she should not tease the old lady so, but her wicked streak had a habit of appearing at the most inopportune moments.
"What things indeed! Those monsters! Those girls!"
"Oh. Rene and Elaina? I am quite sure, Lady Catherine, that they take great exception to being referred to as 'things.' But I believe you are right in the matter." Darcy looked at his wife, startled, as did all in the room.
"William," she spoke to her husband, "I believe I shall take both Miss. Jones' into their room and speak with them."
Darcy looked confused at first. He couldn't figure out whether she was separating the two opposing factions, attempting to find some peace, or if she was simply abandoning him to the cold mercy of his aunt. "Yes…I shall come to you later." He smiled at her as she walked from the room ushering the two taller young ladies in front of her. Strangely, thought Darcy, they had not uttered a single protest.
Darcy turned his attention to his young secretary who now stood purposeless in the middle of the room. Stooping to a small desk, he dipped an idle pen into an inkwell and scratched quickly across a blank sheet of paper. "Mr. Richards, thank you for your assistance during my absence, but you are free to go now. I must speak with my aunt alone. Before you run off to console your fiancé however, I would have you send a messenger to the village." With these words, Darcy handed the neatly folded paper to Mr. Richards.
"Yes, Mr. Darcy," spoke Richards succinctly while bowing gracefully. He turned on one well-polished heel, a move he had learned by studying his new boss and mentor Mr. Darcy, and swept from the room.
Darcy then turned to the Trying Triumvirate. "Aunt Catherine, Caroline, Mr. Collins, I give you leave to explain your presence on my estate, and then I will ask you to quickly take your departure."
"That was the man Elizabeth! The one you told us of, whom Mr. Darcy saved you from! Oh Elizabeth he's so ugly!" Rene was quick to release her excited thoughts as Elizabeth closed the heavy door of the girls' sitting room behind them.
"Rene, that's unfair. It's not so much that he's… well… Well Elizabeth I must be honest, if not so cruelly so as Rene, but that Mr. Collins is certainly not the most attractive man. Not near as handsome as Mr. Darcy." Rene snorted as if in disbelief that Elaina could even make such a comparison. "But it's not so much that he's… not handsome, than that he's such a fool. The things he said, the way he coddled up to that horrid old woman and that skinny snobbish woman. It's quite clear she's a fortune hunter Elizabeth."
Elizabeth was trying hard to keep her smile from her lips. The American girls' candidness was fresh and most certainly appealing. They certainly were not prone to simpering praise as many young girls were of those higher in society, and they were also not prone to giving a benefit of a doubt to those undeserving of good opinions. They were not like her dear sister Jane, and not at all like any of her other sisters, though before she might have regarded Rene as close to Lydia in personality.
In the end she lost the battle with the corners of her lips and they pulled upward into an undeniably impish grin. "I should scold both of you for saying such things." But as she had often thought them herself, she knew she wouldn't. "Now," she said, plopping rather inelegantly into a nearby chair, "what exactly happened in there?"
Rene looked to her older sister, the experienced storyteller, to relay the events as they had happened.
"Rene and I were in the Library with Jonathan when we heard a carriage roll across the gravel out front. We didn't really think much of it until that woman, Lady Catherine, came bursting through the doors, demanding to see her 'revered nephew,' the distinguished, and obviously in trouble, Mr. Darcy. When she spied us lounging rather languidly about the furniture she demanded to know who we were and what we were doing in her nephew's house. Of course we told her that our father was a close friend of Mr. Darcy and that he was away at the moment, with his wife. With you."
"Oh Elizabeth," interrupted Rene, "she was so angry! She kept demanding to know exactly who Elizabeth Bennet was, and was beside herself that 'this Bennet girl cannot be of any social standing if I've never heard of her!' And then that odious Miss. Bingly started in about how countrified you were, how inelegant and unrefined. 'Hardly a beauty!' said she, among other insults. She said that you were to go back and marry Mr. Collins, the greasy man standing beside her, because Mr. Darcy had been gravely mistaken. She said you were nothing more than a wench of a fortune hunter!"
"And that's when Rene ran at her," said Elaina matter of factly.
"Rene ran at Miss. Bingly! To attack her!" exclaimed a not so surprised Elizabeth. Ashamedly, her exclamation was more out of amusement than any real surprise.
"Yes! She did! But then Jonathan pulled her back before she could crawl over the couch that stood between her and Miss. Bingly."
Elizabeth wanted to chuckle at the image of Rene crawling, skirts and all, over the couch in the library to bowl over a defenseless Miss. Bingly. "Well that was quick thinking on Mr. Richards' part."
Elaina agreed with an emphatic nod of her head before continuing. "And that's when you and Mr. Darcy made you fortunate entrance. Had you not appeared… Jonathan would not have been able to hold both of us back I'm afraid."
"Yes, I doubt he would," agreed Elizabeth.
"You have stolen Mr. Collins' wife nephew. I demand you return her." She did not wait for Mr. Darcy to answer, but continued as if simply making known the disorganized thoughts of her mind. "But I assume you will refuse to do what is most sensible. But it is not your fault that a conniving temptress has ensnared you. A virtuous, chaste young man can only hold out for so long."
Darcy, whose countenance was growing an ever brighter shade of red as his aunt called his wife a "conniving temptress" was thrown totally off guard by her next comment regarding his weak state of chastity. A state that, if had not been remedied by youthful indiscretions, was most certainly, after the last week in a secluded cottage with Elizabeth Bennet, no longer a problem for him. He blanched, his eyes widened, and all powers of speech failed him. His aunt was referring to… and she had called Elizabeth…! He would not dignify her remarks with an answer, and simply waited for her to finish, for she was still talking.
"I've no doubt that I can obtain whatever anullment or papers that I need to. And if there is a child, we shall simply attribute it to Mr. Collins. You are both tall of stature and dark of looks." Mr. Collins didn't look as if her was quite comfortable with the idea of taking credit for Mr. Darcy's progeny, but was confused by the fact that the idea came from the very lips of his patroness, the great condescending Lady Catherine DeBourg. Mr. Darcy certainly did not like the idea of his child being raised by that greasy amphibian of a man, and the set line of his jaw hardened into seemingly unbreakable stone, and the cold ice of his glare turned lethal, not that anyone in the room noticed, with the exception of Mr. Collins who was quite sure that Mr. Darcy felt just as unfavorable about Lady Catherine's idea as he did, or as he might have, had his patroness not been the one to recommend it, thought the poor parson confusedly. Lady Catherine went on. "And we shall tell all that that man was simply not you. You were at Rosings with me, not stealing a bride from the alter."
Her rantings were absurd. Darcy could not fathom how she thought she could pull this elaborate lie off, but he suspected that she had finally found something beyond her great influence. He KNEW she had found something beyond her great influence, for nothing could make him give up his Elizabeth. With this thought, some of the anger he felt subsided, and his aunt's words sounded sillier than ever. Finally, he interrupted her.
"Aunt, you do not understand. Elizabeth is my wife until death do us part. I will not annul our marriage. I've no desire to anything of the sort! I bloody kidnapped her! I kidnapped her, and convinced her to marry me! Despite your slander of her character, Elizabeth is the most virtuous of women. I will not allow anyone who does so to remain in my home, our home." His words were final, and though not punctuated by a finger pointing towards the door, should have been for all the steely purpose in them.
"Fitzwilliam Darcy! She is this man's wife!" Lady Catherine did point her finger, but towards the sweating, obviously uncomfortable Mr. Collins. Mr. Collins thought of reminding her that the wedding ceremony had never been finished, a fact she was should have been very well aware of, but Mr. Darcy was quicker than him.
"Aunt Catherine," spoke Darcy, surprisingly calm, "She is Elizabeth Darcy, not Elizabeth Collins. She is my wife. I did not want to have to actually throw you from my house Aunt, but now I must ask you to leave. I am not sorry to Mr. Collins for abducting his bride, he and Elizabeth would never have suited one another, and I do not even want to know what part Miss. Bingley played in this great drama, but not a single one of you is welcome in my house." With those final words, Darcy stomped towards the sitting room door. He had hardly exited the room however, when he felt a violent jerk on his arm. Swinging around, he came face to face with Miss. Caroline Bingley.
"Miss. Bingly, I suggest you tread carefully with whatever you have to say. I am in no humor to put up with your nonsense."
"I am in disbelief sir. I was under the impression that we shared an understanding," was her offended remark.
"An understanding? What have I ever done to prompt you to hold such beliefs?" He stood waiting for an answer, but of course, she could give him none.
"She is beneath you in every way. How can you possibly connect yourself with someone so lowly?" Her voice was heated now, angry.
"Lowly? Lower than me? How? In circumstance? In financial holdings? Perhaps. But in virtue, character, intelligence, humor? I think not. Your abundance of the aspects you find her so deficient in could never make up for your total lack of the qualities that make her dear to me." He paused, letting the fury drain from his tone. It was not gentlemanly to say such things, though a pirate might. "I would not have said such things Miss. Bingly, had you not pursued them. I do not wish to overly grieve you, but perhaps you might come to learn exactly what traits are important, and which are not." Ignoring her confounded gaze and drooping jaw, he pulled his arm from her grasp and turned towards the room he knew Elizabeth and the Jones girls would be.
Stopping to knock on the door to their sitting room, his eminent knock was momentarily halted by his butler, inelegantly rushing towards him.
"What is it?" he asked cautiously.
"Lady Catherine. She is refusing to leave, refuses to let her parson leave and the young lady."
Darcy took this news without emotion except for the imperceptible hardening of his features: eyes, jaw, lips. "She refuses to leave," he stated more for himself than as a confirmation with the butler of his aunt's actions.
"Yes sir."
"Send word for preparations to begin immediately. My wife and I will be traveling home tomorrow. Pemberly awaits."