A/N: Well, I glommed The Crown Season 4 this weekend. I despise Prince Charles. At any rate, I'm also doing the Artist's Way and finding myself refilling my creative well more often leads to more writing. I'm still catching up on the rough editing and laughing at the homophones dictation does. If you see any, let me know. First draft of this chapter had "Charlotte's room" when I meant "Charlotte's womb," quite a different concept altogether. LOL. Enjoy!
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Muffled strains of music and conversation seeped through the oak door as Elizabeth leaned against the division between the disaster in the assembly room and her new sanctuary. Smells of stale ale and a mustiness assaulted her senses while she breathed heavily. Despite the cooler air, her cheeks burned with embarrassment. Nausea cramped the empty contents of her stomach. Clenching her fists, she closed her eyes and scolded herself for being so utterly stupid as to lose her discretion!
But when she neared Fitzwilliam, all of her good sense seemed to flee! When he spoke, he was her only care. Not society. Not her family. Reflecting on these memories of her courtship with Mr. Darcy gave rise to pangs of love in her heart. This slightly eased her mortification.
"Lizzy?" a familiar voice called out.
Elizabeth opened her eyes, adjusting to the dimmer light among the tables and chairs in the inn. Very few people were not enjoying the festivities in the other room, so Elizabeth quickly located the woman who had called out to her.
"Charlotte! I didn't know you would be here!" The sudden surprise presence of her best friend distracted her from the entire mess she had made with the gossip. The maid sitting with Charlotte Collins stood from the seat next to her responsibility and as Elizabeth neared, she could see her friend was clearly with child.
"A baby!" she said, and both women giggled, with Mrs. Collins placing a protective hand over her midsection.
The mother-to-be smiled. "Yes, sometime in the new year, we suspect," she explained. But then her countenance shifted to one of fear. "But that's not why I am here," she said, ominously.
Elizabeth took the seat offered next to her friend, and accepted a pour of wine from the maid. "Did you not wish for your child to be born here?" Lizzy asked, quickly calculating such a reason was good as any. After all, eventually Charlotte's husband and Elizabeth's cousin, Mr. Collins, would inherit Longbourn. The child growing in Charlotte's womb should logically be a son of Hertfordshire, not Kent, and have his baptismal record in the same place as the Bennets and Lucases.
Charlotte shook her head and leaned closer to her bosom friend. "I cheer for such an outcome, but no. Lady Catherine is most displeased with the behavior of her nephew and you, and therefore my husband by proxy. She has threatened to take away his living," she whispered.
"She cannot do that! Not without Church authority!" Elizabeth said, loudly, as Charlotte shushed her.
"Hush, Lizzy, you do not understand how the world works. My husband, my family," she corrected, not removing her hand from her stomach, "depends upon the generosity of our patroness. The living is a pittance compared to the resources her ladyship has provided. And all of that is gone, now," Charlotte finished, sullenly.
Trying hard to remember her time in Kent, Elizabeth suddenly understood what her friend explained. Daily packages, parcels, and pantry items arrived from Rosings. As Mrs. Collins, Charlotte was the direct recipient of Lady Catherine's Christian charity from old gowns of Miss de Bourgh to extra produce and smoked meats from the estate's food stores.
"I promise, once it's within my power. . ." Elizabeth began, but couldn't quite finish her words. Truthfully, she had no idea what her abilities to help her friend financially would become once married. She did not hold a formal marriage contract with Mr. Darcy, a point her family continued to hammer upon in every criticism for Mr. Darcy. And while the man himself had told her countless times that they would be beyond worrying about such trifling matters as the cost of items, her thoughts dwelled on the limited means of Lydia's settlement, arranged by Mr. Darcy, that would not permit her to travel freely back home to Longbourn from New Castle.
Perhaps feeling less empathy for Charlotte's misfortune would have changed Elizabeth's perspective to think more highly of Mr. Darcy. His generosity provided the only amount of coin settled upon her rebellious and simple sister. But instead, the uncertainty and isolated position of throwing her entire support to her intended, above the objections and cautions of her family, influenced her too greatly. As did worries that Mr. Darcy might be quite miserable with his spending.
The door to the tavern opened and the man of her thoughts and heart strolled into the room, looking furtively for Elizabeth. Both women ceased their discussion immediately and he quickened his pace when he found Elizabeth sitting with Mrs. Collins. He bowed and greeted Charlotte, and his eyes flicked to the woman's midsection, but he politely made no comment on her condition.
"Are you well, Miss Elizabeth?" he inquired, respecting the public nature of their location.
"I'm afraid my friend suffers greatly at the hands of your aunt," she replied, completely skipping any mention of her own distress prior to finding Charlotte.
"Lizzy!"
Elizabeth addressed her friend. "It is his aunt, and if anyone should have the ability to help—" she tried to say, but Mr. Darcy cleared his throat and Elizabeth ceased talking.
"I spoke to Mr. Collins just before coming in here, it was how I found you when I learned where Mrs. Collins had gone," Mr. Darcy explained.
Elizabeth cringed. She could easily imagine what the nincompoopery and sycophantic expectations her cousin may have laid at Mr. Darcy's feet. She attended to confirm her worst assumptions. "Did my cousin seek you out, sir?"
Mr. Darcy's stony expression took Elizabeth aback, but he gave her a nod.
"It was my husband's idea to bring the problem to you. I advised against it. My family, and perhaps my husband's family," Mrs. Collins said, looking to Elizabeth to explain she referred to the Bennets, "are more than capable of aiding us and what I am certain shall be a short season of ambiguity." Mrs. Collins spoke with a finality that conveyed she would not sacrifice her pride on account of a fall from grace with Lady Catherine de Bourgh.
"But this is beyond comprehension! Do you know that your aunt holds against them our engagement?" Elizabeth said excitedly, looking for her future husband to don a feeling of chivalry and come to her closest friend's aid.
When he remained silent, Charlotte admonished her friend. "It is not the moment for a resolution to be made at this table," she declared.
"But why ever not?" Liz's mind raced with a number of ways that they could help the Collinses.
Charlotte smiled at Mr. Darcy, apologetic for her friend's naïveté.
"I believe that I have restored my energy and shall rejoin my husband," she said, standing from the table and earning Mr. Darcy's respect as he stood with her. Elizabeth paused for just one moment, but then she stood with her friend as well and her departure for all three seemed imminent.
Charlotte turned to hug her dear friend, she whispered in Elizabeth's ear: "Your position is precarious, beware Lady Catherine."
Once they broke away, Charlotte curtsied and smiled at Mr. Darcy as though she had not given such a dire message, and she farewelled Elizabeth.
Lost in her thoughts about what Charlotte could mean, and attempting to make sense of Mr. Darcy's reaction, she was not attending the first time he quietly asked her for another dance set.
"Elizabeth?" His deep baritone voice that still elicited the effect of instant attraction in her ears finally caught her attention.
"Why could we not help them?" She asked and to her surprise, he scowled.
"Your friend was correct that this is not the appropriate time or place to address this matter. I believe she gave the same advice to that offensive husband of hers," he said, in a rare condemnation of another.
"Is he offensive because he is my relation or because you now know he once offered for my hand?" She countered.
Mr. Darcy let out a hollow laugh, finding Elizabeth's question absolutely ridiculous. "Should not even be a question, the man is offensive in his behavior," Mr. Darcy said in a tone that signaled he wished the subject to be dropped. "I ask you again, Madam, if you would care to dance?"
The two stood facing one another ,eyes locked in a silent confrontation, and Elizabeth felt stubbornness rising in her chest. She had not felt this level of repulsion in his behavior since their arguments in Kent. but she swallowed her indignation and reminded herself of what Charlotte had just pointed out. She was not Mr. Darcy's wife, she did not even hold a signed contract. While she did not agree with him that the Collinses were beyond assistance from the Darcy household, she suddenly realized she did not yet hold the formal position to influence any coffers.
"It would be my supreme privilege to dance a third set with you," she said, and then dropped her voice low to use his Christian name, "Fitzwilliam."
The two rejoined the dancing with a temporary truce between them, and Elizabeth soon found her laughter again when she realized that despite her friend's excessive concern, dancing a third set with Mr. Darcy in public was a sufficient announcement they were engaged to the surrounding countryside.
The last turns and skips offered joy to the couple, but their frivolity came to an abrupt stop when Mr. Bennet and Elizabeth's uncle, Mr. Phillips, awaited the happy couple at the end.
"Lizzy, your aunt is tired and so your uncle is taking her home. They will take you back to Longbourn in their carriage," Mr. Bennet said in a flat tone as though he were explaining the weather.
"But Papa, I do not wish to leave," Elizabeth said, as her Aunt Phillips looped her arm with her niece's and began to walk her away from Mr. Darcy.
"I don't believe that Miss Elizabeth wishes to go," Mr. Darcy ventured, but Mr. Phillips contradicted him.
As Mr. Phillips and Mr. Bennet stepped between Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth, now standing with her aunt, it was the younger man who explained: "I'm sure when she realizes how much her aunt desires her company, Lizzy will be very keen to lift her discomfort."
Behind them, Elizabeth shook her head, but Mr. Darcy stood powerless. He opened his mouth once more, then Mr. Bennet spoke before he could.
"This is a family matter, Mr. Darcy, surely you can understand," he pronounced as he walked away.
Further by the doors, the Phillips' carriage stood already called. Mr. Bingley and Jane waited nearby to bid Elizabeth good night.
To Mr. Darcy's amusement, he watched Elizabeth dejectedly walk beside her aunt, who began speaking in a hushed manner to her niece, with her shoulders slightly slouched and her gait slow. But within just a moment, he watched her neck straighten as though she had lifted her chin higher, and her entire demeanor strolled regally out of the assembly room. Outside observers would have guessed the entire ordeal to be her preference.
His mind raced for options to rescue Elizabeth from the interference of her relations, but there was very little he could do aside from calling early in the morning. He comforted himself that there was no place in England that Elizabeth's family could hide her away, nor did he think the Bennet family was the type to banish a daughter.
As the doors closed, the entire matter settled. Mr. Darcy walked to the punch bowl and poured himself a healthy amount of the libation. He had read far too many novels that his most sensible thoughts had run away from him.
Standing next to the table with the punch was his dance partner from earlier in the evening, Miss Mary Bennet. He greeted her, and she assured him that she did not wish to dance again before he could even ask. Then she stuck out her foot, and showed the rather nasty scrape on the outside of her ankle.
"My cousin, Mr. Collins," she explained. "My father made me dance with him while you were dancing the last set with Lizzy."
Mr. Darcy sipped his punch. "I believe my ankles have been spared, but I will say that I join you in feeling accosted by your cousin."
Mary snorted, and then had a pleasant conversation about how little either of them enjoyed balls. When at last it appeared that Mr. Darcy could no longer avoid dancing with Miss Bingley, as the woman weaned her way through the crowds making a direct line towards him, he dismissed himself and wished Ms. Mary well. To his surprise, she gave him a reminder that he so desperately needed with an addition of good news.
"I have made my decision to join my sister in the morning," was all that she said as she walked away, leaving Miss Bingley to claim her prize.