Surprise! Thought I would be generous and give y'all another chapter to enjoy. Note that I have borrowed again from Austen in this chapter. The confrontation between Elizabeth and Lady Catherine towards the end of P&P is here, except with Darcy in place of Elizabeth!
Chapter 4
Darcy's indignation at the treatment of Elizabeth was such that enabled him to cross the half mile between the two houses in half the time it normally did to traverse that distance.
His first object was to go round to the stables and order his coach; he was grateful now for having decided to take it rather than coming to Rosings on horseback as he normally did, for they would need the space on the roof for Elizabeth's trunks as well as his own. He next entered the house, choosing to go through the garden door, which allowed him to bypass the morning room where no doubt his aunt was holding court with the obsequious parson. Were he to see them now, in the present state of his mind, he did not doubt a permanent breach would be the result.
After instructing his valet to pack his trunk, Darcy went to Colonel Fitzwilliam's room, and found him there just putting on a pair of riding boots. "Will!" said he. "Care to join me in a ride about the park?"
Darcy shook his head. "No, Theo, I will be departing Kent within half an hour. I came only to ask if you wished to leave with me, for if you desire to stay you will have to make your own way home, as I am taking the carriage."
Fitzwilliam stood, a frown marring his features. "What's happened?"
In clipped sentences, Darcy explained having taken his cousin's advice. He'd spoken with Elizabeth and laid out not only the reasons for interfering with Bingley and Miss Bennet, but also the truth of Wickham's character.
"So, you are engaged then?" Fitzwilliam asked hopefully.
"I daresay she has not forgiven me the first," said Darcy, "but I have been assured of her having confidence of my being truthful of the latter."
"So… you're not engaged, then," observed Fitzwilliam.
Darcy snorted. "I think we must be, whether she wishes it or not."
His cousin lifted an eyebrow. "Now you've lost me, Darce."
"One of the servants at the parsonage observed us yesterday and told it to Mr. Collins, who of course wasted little time in reporting the whole to Lady Catherine," Darcy said. "This has resulted in Miss Bennet being turned out."
Fitzwilliam's shock was evident. "I can scarce believe it!" he cried. "What could they have possibly seen but the two of you conversing?"
He then narrowed his eyes and stood with his arms akimbo. "Unless there's something more that you've not told me…"
Darcy sighed, considered saying nothing, but then decided that, at this point, there was no reason to keep the full truth from Fitzwilliam any longer. "I kissed her."
His cousin's brows now rose toward his hairline. "You kissed her? Even after she refused you?"
Darcy nodded. "It… It was an impulse of the moment! We were both of us angry, our emotions running wild… I cannot even say who kissed whom first; I only know that one moment I was looking into those damn fine eyes of hers and seeing such passion in her gaze that, when next my own fell to her lips, I could only think of how much I wanted to kiss them."
"And so you did," Fitzwilliam quipped. "Bloody hell, Darcy, you've got yourself and poor Miss Bennet in a pickle, haven't you?"
Darcy sighed heavily. "So it would seem. Miss Bennet was accused of attempting to compromise me, and for that she has been cast out of her cousin's house. I think the truth is we compromised each other."
"By your leaving, I suppose you have offered Miss Bennet the use of your carriage?" Fitzwilliam asked.
He nodded. "Mr. Collins' note to his wife said Miss Bennet was to make her own way, which of course I could not in good conscience allow. Her being turned out is my own fault."
"Do not be too hard on yourself, Will—you said it was mutual, did you not? Though I say it is right that you take responsibility for your actions all the same," the colonel said then. "But without a formal engagement between you, you cannot spend so long in the carriage alone together without creating more difficulties for the both of you."
"True enough, but I have little choice. She has no maid of her own."
Fitzwilliam grinned. "I say you revenge yourself on our dear aunt for her high-handedness and purloin one of the housemaids," said he. "In fact, Kirk has told me that one of the below-stairs girls is not well-pleased with the treatment she and the other maids receive from their mistress."
I am little surprised, Darcy mused, having too-often witnessed how his aunt verbally abused the maids when their work did not meet her exacting standards. It did not sit well with him, to be enticing one of Lady Catherine's servants from her employ even if he was angry and the girl dissatisfied, but Fitzwilliam was right. He and Elizabeth could not travel together without a servant if they wished to observe the proprieties that Elizabeth had been accused of flaunting. "Have your man speak to the girl. If she is willing, have her meet me at the carriage. It will be out front soon enough."
He turned back for the door, and paused when he had grasped the handle to ask, "What will you do?"
"Probably best I go with you," Fitzwilliam replied. "We can stop at the coaching inn on our way out of the village and rent a couple of horses, I am sure, and the ladies can have the carriage."
Darcy nodded. "Very good. I will see you shortly."
As he quit his cousin's chamber, he heard Fitzwilliam order his valet, Kirk, to hurry and pack his trunk before going to seek out someone named Penelope—presumably the unhappy maid he had mentioned. Darcy went back to his rooms to check on the progress of his own man and found that the ever-efficient Vincent was just closing his trunk; he shook his head with a smile, marveling as he sometimes did at the speed with which the man could pack weeks' worth of clothing.
Giving the older gentleman final instruction to see his trunk to the carriage, Darcy drew a deep, fortifying breath in preparation for the coming meeting with his aunt—it was unavoidable, as both his upbringing and civility required he take his leave of her.
He made his way downstairs, pausing before the morning room doors to set his features into a neutral expression—beyond them he could hear his aunt giving her usual spout of instructions to Mr. Collins about his sermon for the next Sunday service.
"Darcy!" cried Lady Catherine when he entered. "There you are. Where have you been? I am quite put out with you, nephew—you did not come to tea yesterday, or to supper, and you took breakfast on a tray in your room as well. It is highly irregular to absent yourself so often. What excuse have you for such conduct?"
"None that would satisfy you, ma'am, I am sure," Darcy said. "I regret that I must further disappoint you, as I am come to take my leave."
Lady Catherine rapped her cane on the floor. "Take your leave? Whatever do you mean? You were to stay another week here; I am sure you said so only yesterday morning. You cannot leave and deprive Anne and me of the only good society in these parts, Darcy. I forbid it."
It was an effort not to scowl, as well as to speak civilly as he replied, "Begging your pardon, my lady, but you have not the authority to forbid me doing anything. Good day to you."
Darcy turned on his heel to depart. Behind him Lady Catherine stood as Mr. Collins was saying, "It is her doing, I am sure of it! My dear Lady Catherine, all is worse than we thought!"
"Worse indeed, Mr. Collins—and you are to blame! It was you that allowed your wife to invite that viper into your home!" Lady Catherine snapped.
Darcy turned back. "Have a care, madam, how you speak!" he said, unleashing a hint of his anger. "I know not precisely what Mr. Collins' servant has said of Miss Bennet, but I can assure you that she is guilty of nothing."
"My good sir, you are surely under the influence of her wanton arts and allurements," fumbled Mr. Collins. "I am quite certain now that the reason for which my foolish cousin refused my own most generous offer of marriage was due to her wicked plan for trapping you into a most unfortunate union!"
"I have no doubt of it!" cried Lady Catherine. "Darcy, that upstart seeks to raise herself from obscurity by stealing you away from your betrothed."
Darcy clenched his hands into fists tight enough that his nails began to dig into his palms; better that sting than losing his temper, though it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep it in check.
"Lady Catherine," said he tersely. "Firstly, you know perfectly well that there is not and has never been an engagement between your daughter and myself. I am neither by honor nor inclination confined to my cousin; you and my mother did as much as you could in planning the marriage, but its completion depended upon me—and I made my feelings on that score quite clear to you years ago.
"Secondly, I repeat that Miss Bennet is innocent of the misconduct of which she has been accused, and I can assure you of that because I was there. It may surprise you to know, Aunt, that Miss Bennet refused the offer of marriage I made to her yesterday, and she was right to do so because I did not present my suit in a gentlemanly manner. Your immeasurably cruel and entirely unwarranted actions in ordering she be turned out of her friend's home, with no means or assistance in getting to her own, has had the opposite effect than that which you desired. I will take her there myself, and to save her from further unjust accusations, I will again apply for her hand in the hope that she will choose this time to accept me. I will not allow your misguided ambitions to ruin a young lady who has done you no wrong."
Darcy turned a narrow-eyed gaze at Collins. "And she refused you, sir, because you are an imbecile, far too full of a misguided sense of importance and more concerned with pleasing your patroness than the God you vowed to serve."
"Obstinate, headstrong boy!" Lady Catherine bellowed. "Honor, decorum, prudence—nay, interest—forbid you to marry her. Yes, Darcy, interest; for do not expect to be noticed by your family or friends, if you willfully act against the inclinations of all. You will be censured, slighted, and despised by everyone connected with you. Your alliance will be a disgrace."
If her actions alone had not been enough—and they certainly were—the speech Lady Catherine had just given was all the proof necessary to confirm what Elizabeth had said about families: there was not one that did not have amongst their number at least one who was an embarrassment. Darcy was mortified by his aunt's arrogance and presumption; his uncle would no doubt wish he had chosen better, but he would approve his doing right by Elizabeth when it was made known to him that the threat to her reputation was caused by his own weakness.
"Madam, neither duty nor gratitude," said Darcy evenly, "have any possible claim on me in the present instance. No principle of either would be violated by my marriage with Miss Bennet. I am, however, bound to her by honor which I hope soon to satisfy. And with regard to the resentment of my family, or the indignation of the world, the former may be excited by my marrying her, but I cannot allow it to give me one moment's concern—and the world in general would have too much sense to join in the scorn."
He would not allow her to detain him further; Darcy turned on his heel again and strode purposefully out of the room. Lady Catherine ranted behind him, demanding he return and insulting Elizabeth, but he ignored her. Fitzwilliam and his valet were coming down the stairs as he entered the hall, and the colonel winced at the piercing shrieks still emanating from the morning room.
"I see your meeting with our aunt went well," Fitzwilliam quipped as they fell into step. "No point in my taking leave when she is in such a state. She knows we traveled together."
Darcy said nothing as they left the house. He was gratified to see that his carriage was already waiting for them, and so was a young girl who looked to be about Jane Bennet's age, a carpet bag in her hands. Vincent assisted the footman with hauling Fitzwilliam's trunk onto the roof of the carriage while Kirk introduced the girl as Penelope.
"Penelope Lacey, sir," she said as she curtsied.
"Miss Lacey, I understand you are not satisfied in your employment here at Rosings," Darcy began, "and I am glad to take you on as a temporary maid to my friend Miss Bennet. When we stop at Bromley to rest the horses, I would advise you to send some word to your relations so they do not worry for you, as I cannot yet say when I might be able to facilitate your return to Kent."
Miss Lacey lifted a shoulder. "Won't be no need, Mr. Darcy. I have no relations left."
"I am sorry to hear it. In that case, I will see to a new situation for you, perhaps in London."
The girl's eyes widened. "Oh, we're going to London, sir? Bless me, I've never been to town before! Only ever been as far as Bromley."
"Then it will be an adventure for you, Miss Lacey," said Fitzwilliam with a grin, before handing her into the carriage. He then climbed in himself, and Darcy joined him in taking up the rear-facing seat.
He was checking his watch as the driver slowed to a stop some minutes later before the gate at the parsonage; half an hour precisely had passed. Elizabeth, Mrs. Collins, and Maria Lucas were stepping outside as the footman was opening the door and lowering the step.
"You are nothing if not punctual, Mr. Darcy," quipped Elizabeth as she approached.
Darcy studied her features as he moved through the gate to meet her; behind him, Fitzwilliam was giving directions to the two valets to retrieve her trunks.
To the casual observer, Elizabeth's expression was bright and cheerful, but he had examined that countenance so often that he could tell she was troubled. There were faint lines of worry about her eyes and her posture was tense. It disturbed him to see her so distressed, and he mentally berated himself for being the cause of her concern.
"Miss Bennet, this is Penelope Lacey," said he, gesturing to the maid who had walked with him. "She will attend you until I can safely deliver you to your aunt and uncle in London."
The two girls curtsied to one another, then Elizabeth said, "So you will take me to Cheapside, Mr. Darcy?"
A small sparkle had come into her eyes, and he knew she was teasing him. "I can assure, you, madam, that I have no scruple to be seen drawing up to a house in Cheapside—or entering it."
Elizabeth shook her head with a slight smile, then she turned to Mrs. Collins and embraced her. "I am so sorry, Charlotte. I pray you do not suffer too much for having such a friend as me."
"Nonsense, Lizzy," said Mrs. Collins, who began to weep again. "You have nothing to apologize for. I imagine that Maria and I may have to suffer several lectures, but I promise you that I will not let their disapprobation rule me. You are my friend and shall always be so."
The parson's wife then looked to Darcy. "I trust you made at least some attempt to explain the truth, sir?"
Impressed by the hint of challenge in the lady's tone, Darcy nodded. "I assure you, Mrs. Collins, that I did. Unfortunately, my aunt has long been of the mistaken impression that I would marry her daughter and unite our two estates and fortunes. Having heard that I had designs on another young lady, which obviously would disappoint her greatest hopes, is what led her to issue so uncivil an edict to your husband. She seems to believe that exposing Miss Bennet to censure and ridicule will change my mind."
"And will it?" Mrs. Collins pressed.
Darcy's gaze caught Elizabeth's, and he could see her friend's question repeated in her eyes. "It is all up to Miss Bennet now."
Her eyes widened a fraction, then she lifted an eyebrow. "I see. So, if there is to be ruin, it will be all my own doing. No pressure at all."
Elizabeth embraced Mrs. Collins again and then Miss Lucas, then bid them both goodbye after promising to send word of her safe arrival in London. Darcy guided her and the maid to the carriage, where Fitzwilliam greeted Elizabeth with a sad smile. In moments they were all in the coach and on their way into the village, where they stopped only long enough to rent two sturdy horses from the coaching inn for he and Fitzwilliam to ride.
The party stopped at the Bell in Bromley for refreshments and rest for the carriage horses; the rented pair they would exchange for fresh ones. Because of his having rode a horse instead of sitting in the carriage, the small private dining parlor he secured at the inn was the first chance Darcy had of addressing the circumstances which had prompted their journey.
A pointed look at Fitzwilliam was all it took to send his cousin out of the room, mumbling something about checking on the horses. Darcy, who stood at the single window, drew a breath and said, "I believe we must discuss our situation, Miss Bennet."
"Yes, I suppose we must," she replied. A sigh escaped her, and then, "Mr. Darcy, I… Heavens, I really don't even know what to say. I will own that I behaved unconscionably toward you yesterday, though I maintain that at least some of my anger was justified. You were wrong about Jane and Mr. Bingley, and the fact that you have no remorse for your actions still vexes me greatly."
Darcy turned toward her as she stood and began to pace, wringing her hands together as she went on. "I refused you, and it must wound your dignity not only to have your love spurned but to be faced with the possibility of having to take me on anyway. You can hardly be wishing to marry someone who has said she does not care for you."
"Allow me to ask you this, Miss Bennet… Do you truly disdain me so much that you see marriage to me as an evil?" Darcy said. "Can you imagine no chance at all of us at least being friends?"
Elizabeth scoffed. "Friends, perhaps, yes. In time. But friends do not see each other every day. As husband and wife, we would be forced to endure each other's company every day for the rest of our lives."
She turned slowly to face him. "Mr. Darcy, I cannot but believe that your feelings will only end in resentment if I should say yes in order to save myself."
Darcy shook his head. "On the contrary. Besides, you would not be in the position of needing to be saved had I not taken the liberty that I did. Had I then resisted the temptation your lips presented as I resist it now…"
Elizabeth's eyes widened at the unexpected revelation. Darcy cursed himself silently; he had not meant to say so much.
He decided to address her claim of resentment. "You are not entirely wrong—I am not at ease with the prospect of marrying a woman who has refused me. What man of sense would want to bind himself to a lady who has made her dislike of him so clear? I am, contrary to what you may believe, perfectly capable of accepting 'no' for an answer, and I would leave all at that if I believed it possible to do so. However, given the events of this morning I am not convinced we can. Now, as the true blame for our predicament is my responsibility, so must the remedy be, do not you think?"
When Elizabeth remained silent, Darcy moved away from the window and closed the distance between them. "I have no desire to force you into a marriage you truly do not want, Miss Bennet, but I think you must consider as I have that we no longer have a choice in the matter. I know my aunt's inclinations—seeing that you were turned out of Mr. Collins's house may not be the end of her schemes to keep us apart."
Alarm now entered Elizabeth's eyes. "Not the end? You mean to say she will do more to harm my reputation?"
"Nothing that could be traced to her directly, of course," said Darcy. "Lady Catherine will certainly see her own reputation remains untarnished. But as you well know, society enjoys gossip as much as any servant, and she will use that to her advantage. Much as it pains me to confess it, I would not put it past my aunt to go so far as writing to her friends in town to tell them all about the 'upstart country chit' who has had the audacity to try and lure her favorite nephew away from the marriage she and her late honored sister had planned for their son and daughter."
Elizabeth scoffed. "And if the story spreads about London, it won't be long until it goes even farther—then I shan't be seen as respectable anywhere. I would not be able to return to my father's house, as my ruin would lead to the disgrace of all my sisters."
She drew a deep breath and straightened her posture, and looking at him squarely, said, "As difficult as it is for me to do so, I must own that my actions of yesterday are equally responsible for our predicament, and as equally inexcusable—so I will not allow it said that the fault for our situation is yours alone. I am also sensible of the indignity you must feel at the prospect of asking me a second time to be your wife after being so uncivilly refused. I don't want to be forced into marriage, Mr. Darcy, with you or anyone else. But given the circumstances, I know that if I don't marry, that choice could utterly destroy what prospects my sisters have to be respectably settled."
Darcy clasped his hands behind his back. "It would seem we are at an impasse, Miss Bennet. How do you propose to overcome it?"
"The only thing it seems I can do," she replied evenly. "Rather than forcing you to ask a question you have already spoken, I will ask you to forgive the hasty reply I made when first you asked me to accept your hand, that I may—having further considered the merits of your offer—gratefully acknowledge the honor you have paid me and accept you with alacrity."
Taking another step closer, Darcy held out his hand, and though Elizabeth hesitated to put her own into it, he still lifted it and softly touched his lips to the back.
"Thank you, Miss Bennet," said he. "I could not have been easy had I been the means of doing you harm."
Elizabeth's brows rose. "Is that so? Then may I make my first request of you as your betrothed, Mr. Darcy?"
His curiosity was roused. "If it is in my power to grant your request, I will see it done."
"Tell your friend Bingley the truth and make amends for the harm you have done to my sister Jane," Elizabeth replied. "Give him at least a chance to repair the damage his abandonment has caused. Let the decision of whether to marry or not be their own."
Darcy drew a breath and nodded his acquiescence, knowing this was but the first of many steps to a peaceful co-existence.