Chapter 1: A Devious Acceptance
Darcy's words were as passionate as they were unexpected as he stood before Elizabeth in the parsonage library.
"You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you."
Her silence gave him leave to continue, and as he did she could only think of how certain he seemed to be. He truly wanted her for his own. She never expected to have such power over him, and the possibilities distracted her from his discourse upon her family.
What better way to right his wrongs than by giving him what he asked for and allowing him to pay his addresses?
She half-suspected that he asked only to be refused, but she would not grant him that release. No, she would consent. Then would she make him run the gauntlet of a long courtship.
Jane would surely meet with his friend again. She could make him do right by Mr. Wickham. She would witness his humiliation at the prospect of taking her family as his own.
The possibilities were delightfully endless.
As tempting as it was to refuse the infuriating man what he wanted — or what he thought he wanted — there was much more sport in accepting him.
That she would end their attachment before allowing it to become an engagement she did not question.
"Yes," she said. He hardly seemed to hear her, so bent was he on belittling her family.
He looked at her in surprise.
"I beg your pardon," he said.
"I said yes, you may court me," she replied.
He staggered, to her delight. This proof that her response was not to his expectation thrilled her.
"Oh, perhaps you were not being sincere in your declaration," she said, deliberately looking down in an attitude of timidity.
Immediately he was before her, pressing her hand and speaking of his sincerity.
"Could you look into my heart, you would not doubt the affection I hold for you, Miss Elizabeth," he said earnestly.
"It is only that you seemed so surprised when I said you might pay me your addresses," she said demurely. "Surely King Cophetua did not expect his beggar-maid to send him back to his palace with a hearty no."
Strongly did he reject the comparison, then move to kiss her.
She moved back with a modest reluctance.
"Have you obtained the blessing of my cousin Mr. Collins?" she asked.
Darcy started.
"That… vicar?" he asked, barely civilly.
"Yes, he is to inherit Longbourn," she said, exulting at the thought of Darcy tormented by being connected with a man he so obviously loathed.
"You care for his approval?" he asked, disbelieving.
"As I am beneath his roof and protection, is it not most suitable for you to seek his permission to pay your addresses? I will not return home for near a month yet, where you might apply to my father for his consent to court me."
She gazed at him furtively while she spoke, gratified to see color chase over his countenance as he took in her meaning.
"Of course, I shall do so directly," he said.
"Is he yet at Rosings? If so, you might seek your aunt's approval at the same time," she suggested.
Darcy paled, which she pretended to ignore in gazing at her shoes.
Incoherently he took his leave, which she accepted with appropriate shyness. Then he was walking back to Rosings. She watched through the window, exulting at the tortures that she had already been able to inflict on the insufferable man.
However long she could draw this out, she would.
Darcy's mind raced disjointedly as he strode. His brief joy that she had accepted him was now overwhelmed by the obstacles in the way of their union. He had hoped that he might at least be allowed to kiss her.
He had decidedly not thought about his aunt's reaction to their engagement when he sought Elizabeth's hand. And the notion of applying to the ridiculous Mr. Collins for anything offended him painfully.
But just as his legs carried him to the parsonage to propose despite his rational objections, they carried him to Rosings' drawing room to face Lady Catherine and her protégé.
Fortunately, he found his cousin lingering in the hallway. Darcy could tell he desired the tea within, but not the company.
"George, might I speak with you?" Darcy asked.
Surprised to be asked so humbly, as his cousin tended to state his requests as demands, Col. Fitzwilliam rapidly acquiesced and the two men sought the parlor.
"I offered for Miss Elizabeth, and she has accepted me," Darcy began, leaping lightly over the matter of her conditional consent to being courted.
Fitzwilliam stared in astonishment.
"I suspected that you liked her, but to marry with her," he responded. "This I never expected."
"Surely I seemed too besotted with my own pride to see what a jewel she is," Darcy replied. "But my regard was stronger than my reservations."
"A jewel, indeed," Fitzwilliam said, thinking of his own conversation with her that morning. He said nothing, knowing how jealous a man new in love might be.
"She wishes me to seek the approval of Mr. Collins and my aunt," Darcy admitted.
"Her discretion does her judgment credit," Fitzwilliam observed. "I know you will want Georgiana to behave thus, once she comes of age."
This hit home. His sister would be guided by his wife's example. How could he cause her to behave with anything but the utmost seemliness?
"But Collins is insufferable. In Hertfordshire the man sought me out to intrude his acquaintance upon me, unintroduced," Darcy said.
"He is awful, is he not?" Fitzwilliam agreed. "Yet she is his guest, and he shall be her guardian, I believe, should her father die before she attains her majority, which I gather is something more than a year in the future."
Darcy blinked. He had not considered her youth. That he did not know her age struck him as one of many things he did not know about Elizabeth. But he persisted in his line of complaint.
"And you know how unpleasant Aunt Catherine will be, both to me and undoubtedly to her, once she knows," Darcy said.
"I certainly wouldn't brace them at the same time," his cousin advised. "Divide and conquer. First her, then him. You know he will accede to anything she has deemed acceptable."
"But if he returns to the parsonage without my having asked him, she will discover it," Darcy objected.
"I see Miss Elizabeth already has you quite in hand," Fitzwilliam replied. "I could delay him until you have spoken with Aunt Catherine. His wife is with him, which will make the job less tedious."
"Very well," Darcy said, rising as if setting out on a hopeless charge.
Fortunately when Darcy entered, the Collinses were making their farewells, so obsequiously that it made Darcy wish to grit his teeth. He greeted them in passing as they left, then approached his aunt.
"Lady Catherine, I wish to make a disclosure to you. I know it has long been your desire that I marry—"
"Are you finally come to your senses and wish to offer for Anne?" she asked eagerly.
"No, Anne and I do not suit," he said decisively.
"In what way are you not a suitable match? In age, in fortune, in close relation — everything of import, in short — you are excellently matched."
"But in affection we are not," he said. "She is like a sister to me."
Lady Catherine sighed.
"I suppose you wish to offer for your friend's sister, that Miss Bingley. She came to call upon me when I was in town. She possesses a most grating manner. At least she has some fortune, though it is derived from trade."
"No, the gentlewoman whom I wish to marry is the daughter of a landed gentleman, of no fortune but possessing all other virtues that will reflect well on our family's character."
Lady Catherine seemed caught between outrage that he would marry poor and fascination at the personage thus described.
"Well, who is this penniless paragon?" she demanded.
"Miss Elizabeth Bennet," Darcy said, glad to have come to the point.
Lady Catherine rose with blazing eyes.
"Miss Elizabeth Bennet? That outspoken girl, nearly no accomplishments, no governess, a family of daughters allowed to run wild — that Miss Elizabeth Bennet?" she asked, outraged.
"I believe that we refer to the same lady, though I, of course, do not see her in the same light," he replied, attempting to keep himself calm.
"This country chit you would offer your hand?" she demanded.
"I already have, and she has accepted me," he exaggerated unthinkingly. "Of course she accepted you. What portionless farmer's daughter would not accept the master of Pemberley? Who can say what arts she employed to draw you in? But that you would contemplate such an action without consulting me, almost your nearest relation, much less to make the offer — I am very disappointed in you, Fitzwilliam."
"I am sorry to disappoint you, aunt," he said, still in regulation of his temper — by a fraction.
"What are we coming to?" she wailed, falling back into her seat. "Who else would be a suitable spouse for Anne? And I suppose as you are a confirmed romantic now, you will see Georgiana married to that Bingley fellow."
"If I am to be as consistent as I hope to be, I must allow Georgiana the discretion to make her own choice, after she comes of age."
"Girls deciding on their own husbands, what has this country come to?" she demanded of the heavens.
"Hopefully it will come to more domestic happiness, which has been in short supply for some time," he said.
"You are a romantic fool, indeed, if you think choosing one's spouse based on infatuation is the basis of happiness. You shall be ecstatic for the honeymoon, then suffer regrets for the rest of your life — if you persist in this madness. The girl is pretty enough, in that way that men find pleasing, but can you truly see her as mistress of Pemberley? As the woman that Georgiana will look to as her example of womanhood?"
"It was an appreciation of how well she will do in both those capacities which decided me," he replied.
"Then you are headlong in infatuation," she said dourly. "I ought to have insisted you marry Anne when you both came of age. You might have an heir by now if I had, one of unimpeachable ancestry."
"Aunt, how can you think… My cousin does not seem nearly hearty enough to bear children with ease. My humanity required me to consider that before my own feelings."
"We haven't had a childbed death in centuries," she declared.
"Will you never consider how my mother's health suffered after Georgiana's birth?" he demanded, drawn into an old argument.
"She might have lived a score years more if it weren't for your Derbyshire winters," she replied. "Why you do not always come to visit for Christmas and stay until it is decently warm I shall never understand."
"One of the downfalls of our age is that landowners spend their winters disporting themselves in town rather than minding their estates," he said, warming to his theme. "Is it not enough that Georgiana stays here in the south each winter?"
"And so you and Miss Bennet will take yourselves north to bring your tenants soup and mind them not to toil too hard?" she asked belligerently.
"You describe our prospective domestic life most accurately," he said, anger making itself known in his tones.
She waved him away, signaling her waiting woman to bring her a tonic.
"If you are determined, then away with you, do not tire me with your stubbornness. My sister would be very disappointed. Would that I had the power to stop you from this ill-advised act."
"I hope that your opinion will change for the better as you make her acquaintance as Mrs. Darcy," he said.
"I will judge her as I find her, as I will you, nephew," she said with finality.
He bowed and retired.
Col. Fitzwilliam had nearly reached the end of his powers of delay when Charlotte caught on and come to his aid with a series of observations upon the roads that served to keep them standing in the entryway until Darcy joined them.
"Ah, Darcy," Fitzwilliam said in relief. "I was just going to show Mrs. Collins the new bulb sprouts. I believe you had something to discuss with Mr. Collins."
With that he made a hasty exit, Charlotte on his arm.
Collins looked up at Darcy, greed and intimidation warring on his face.
Darcy spoke quickly, before the vicar could gather himself into fresh sycophancy.
"Lady Catherine has just given me her blessing for my union with Miss Elizabeth Bennet," he said, hedging the truth greatly.
Collins could scarce keep his feet for surprise. That such a low girl, so unseemly and portionless, not nearly as pretty as her older sister, would capture the attention of the great man, a man with more than one living in his gift — it was incomprehensible.
He goggled at Darcy, dumbfounded.
"As she is staying in your family, she thought it right for me to ask you for permission to pay my addresses," he continued.
Collins could scarce agree quickly enough, and Darcy was disturbed to hear the amount of liberty the man was prepared to grant him.
Darcy cut him off with a swift thanks, then made his way upstairs. He had many letters to write.
Elizabeth paced the approach to the parsonage, awaiting the Collinses' return.
Mr. Collins was first to appear and seemed stunned. As he perceived her, he reeled slightly.
"Cousin Elizabeth, the most unexpected… You must be overjoyed. Such felicity as you could never have anticipated… such a great man…"
"I see that Mr. Darcy has spoken with you," she said, impatient of his rambling. "Did you give him permission to pay his addresses?"
"My dear cousin, his request was sanctioned by my patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, his near relation. I would not delay to do so," he replied.
Elizabeth suppressed a sigh of annoyance. Mr. Collins might very well have objected on the basis of the lack of her father's consent or mere pettiness on his part. Surely he did not wish to see her marry so high.
She had hoped that the formidable aunt and stolid vicar would present a barrier, but it seemed Darcy had overborne them at once.
"You are feeling better, your headache is quite gone? You are quite well?" Collins asked anxiously.
"I am very well," she said, wishing he would go away so that she could think.
"We ought to go inside. Night is near and the dew will be falling. We must mind your health, cousin. My dear Charlotte will join us soon."
Elizabeth allowed him to escort her within, where she escaped to her room.
Curses on the man, how dare he be so effective? She had imagined him approaching them while they were together, that they might support each other in persuading him of how ill-advised the match was.
Seeing him forced break their attachment would be almost as satisfying as doing so, herself. But the reunion of Jane and Mr. Bingley was not yet accomplished, so she must keep up the pretense.
Chapter 2: Tormenting Mr. Darcy
Darcy called at the parsonage so early that Collins was still pursuing the last of the marmalade on his plate when their visitor was announced. He abandoned the confection to bid the gentleman welcome. Gladly did he appoint his wife to attend the pair and ensconce them in the library.
Darcy was disappointed to see how overwhelmed Elizabeth was by his attentions. She would scarce meet his glance and sat quiet over her needlework. Charlotte ostentatiously busied herself with the poor basket in the corner, and cautiously he approached his intended.
"Good morning, Miss Elizabeth, are you well?" he asked courteously.
She thought it mete to brave a glance up at him, then shyly back down at her work. She replied quietly that she was quite well.
Determined to hold conversation with her, he asked about her needlework.
"I am embroidering a handkerchief for poor Jane," she said.
"I'm sorry, is your sister not well?" he asked anxiously.
"She has not been herself since fall. She went to stay with my aunt and uncle Gardiner in town. We hoped that the change of scenery might cheer her, but her spirits remain terribly depressed."
Darcy felt a tremor of fear at her words.
"Why is your sister out of spirits?" he asked.
She stopped sewing and looked up at him.
"Do you truly not understand, Mr. Darcy? Her heart is broken. She was abandoned by one dear to her and whom she hoped would become dearer still."
The tremor became a spike of pain as conscience smote him. He had been so sure that Miss Bennet cared nothing for Bingley. Sure enough to fuel vehement assurances.
That Elizabeth said that it was otherwise, that her sister's affections had been thoroughly engaged, that she suffered for abandonment — it was terrible.
Elizabeth savored the look of chagrin on his face as she resumed her work, catching his pained expression in glances.
Darcy sat in agonized silence as she plied her needle until Charlotte, sensing that her inattention was not giving rise to cordiality, entered the conversation.
"When do you deliver the banns, Mr. Darcy?" she asked.
He was glad to be addressed but could give no firm answer.
"Miss Elizabeth said that she shall return home within a month," he replied. "Then I may call upon her father."
"A June wedding is of all things charming, is it not?" she asked, settling to her own work.
Darcy hastily tallied weeks and found that she was correct. His heart sank to think of such delay.
Elizabeth watched him blanch with the realization and suppressed a smirk.
"So soon as June?" she asked. "Somehow I always thought to have a long engagement."
"How long?" he asked with some dismay.
"No more than a season or two," she replied. "Particularly when couples know each other so little, it seems fitting that they have time to come to know each other and their families before they wed. But, really, Charlotte, Mr. Darcy has only declared himself. We are courting, no more."
Charlotte was not pleased by her speech. How could her friend be so insensible of the great advantage of marrying with Mr. Darcy? Lizzy would let the fish slip from the hook. But she would not be such a poor friend as to allow her to act so foolishly.
"Mr. Darcy, did you not become acquainted with Lizzy's family, including the Phillipses, when you stayed in Hertfordshire?" she asked.
"I did," he affirmed.
"There, Lizzy," she said. "All that remains is for him to meet the Gardiners, who are very affable people. Their children are delightful, and they love Lizzy so."
Elizabeth felt nervous. Charlotte was undoing her careful work.
"But I am yet a stranger to Miss Darcy," she objected. "Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley gave me to understand that her judgment of Mr. Darcy's choice is very important."
Darcy scoffed slightly. Miss Bingley's machinations could not be more transparent to him.
"I am eager for Georgiana to make your acquaintance," he said. "As you are to visit town on your way home, would it be acceptable if she calls upon you while you are there?"
"That would be delightful," she answered weakly. Somehow she thought he would be more protective of his sister.
"Jane and I would be happy to receive her at Gracechurch Street, in Cheapside," she said, hoping identifying the precincts of their London relatives would discourage him.
"Very good, I shall write her directly," he said, beginning to rise.
Elizabeth felt her stratagems failing and made an effort to retrieve the most important of them as she rose to bid him farewell.
"Might you also write to Mr. Bingley and his sisters, that they might expect our call?" she asked.
"I had already planned to do so," he said, then left them.
"Lizzy, what are you thinking, to be so discouraging to Mr. Darcy?" Charlotte asked her as soon as he had gone.
"Did I discourage him?" she asked, tossing her work into the basket.
"I have never seen you act so hostile to a gentleman," she replied. "He is your betrothed. To act such is most unseemly."
"Should I act as Lydia might, seat myself in his lap and giggle at his every speech?" she asked.
"Surely there is a happy medium between the two," Charlotte replied. "One might think you did not wish to marry with him."
"How could any woman not wish to marry with the great Mr. Darcy?" Elizabeth asked, sarcasm in her tones.
"Lizzy, you cannot mean it. Think of the compliment he does you by pursuing you so. Not only to make the offer and persist despite your discouragement, but to involve his cousin. When he addressed Mr. Collins yesterday, I could not help but notice that he had the colonel's aid."
"Col. Fitzwilliam is ever at Mr. Darcy's disposal. He made as much clear to me, himself," Elizabeth replied.
"Lizzy, will you tell me what you are thinking in behaving so to Mr. Darcy?" she pled.
"I merely try to comport myself as befits the next mistress of a great house," she replied. "Now I find I must walk out, else risk a return of my headache."
Elizabeth strode away from the parsonage. Fortunately there were paths that led away from Rosings. She was annoyed to find herself followed by Mr. Collins.
"Cousin Elizabeth," he called, clapping his hat upon his head and hurrying to catch up with her. "My dear Charlotte said you would walk. I will serve as your escort. Pray, do wait a moment."
Elizabeth impatiently stopped and let him approach.
"I have not required an escort for the walks I have taken in the weeks I have been here. Why should you take yourself from your many duties now?" she asked.
"Dear cousin, everything has changed. Your connection to the house of Darcy and de Bourgh requires the most careful attention to be paid to you in every particular. I have written to your father to explain the situation to him, but until I receive his instructions, I must act as befits your new station."
Elizabeth nearly reeled with the unwelcome news. To have the matter pass from Mr. Collins to her father was most distasteful, as well as destructive of her strategy. She had thought to speak to her father first about it, to encourage him to allow a long courtship. Mr. Collins would certainly have done the reverse.
"How fastidious of you, Mr. Collins," she responded. She then proceeded to walk just slightly faster than he could easily manage, which curtailed his speeches, all centered on the great honor proposed for her.
She returned to the house before she might wish and set herself to re-examining Jane's letters and beginning a new letter to her. It occurred to her that she must tell Jane of her attachment, which was difficult, knowing as she did that Mr. Darcy had separated Jane from her beloved.
She dropped her pen and groaned. That the infuriating man could call her his intended, that she allowed him to think that he might add her to his possessions — it was intolerable. Yet it was the only way to reunite Jane with Mr. Bingley.
She hoped that the letter Darcy intended to write to his friend would correct his action in dividing them, but she could not be sure.
He seemed so intent upon marrying with her. She began to doubt her own power to stop him, particularly when her friends — her father excepted — would all be so enthusiastic for the match.
But she was only doing as she must, for Jane. All else must give way to that.
Darcy walked slowly to Rosings. The suspicion that he had been wrong in thinking that Miss Bennet did not care for Bingley slowly hardened into a certainty.
To hear Elizabeth's account of it, her sister's attachment must have been very real. Considering the three miles that Elizabeth had trod at the report of her sister's illness at Netherfield, the depth of his betrothed's affection for her older sister must be thought of.
Why, if she came to know that he had a hand in dividing them, she might break off their engagement! It was not to be allowed.
He must correct his actions without Elizabeth catching wind of it.
Evading his aunt, he made his way to his rooms and sat himself at his desk. Yesterday's stack of missives had gone out, alerting his solicitors that they would be called upon to draw up his marriage articles, giving notice to the staff at his homes that they would receive Mrs. Darcy.
Now must write to Georgiana and to Bingley, much more challenging tasks.
Would telling Bingley that Miss Bennet was in town, giving him her direction, be sufficient? No, his discouragement was such that it required more direct amends. But if he did so, could he trust Bingley to not speak of it when Elizabeth was about? He should have to coach his friend most carefully. He prickled at the thought of such disguise, but it was unavoidable.
Georgiana would be most surprised to hear of his engagement. And an engagement it must be. That Elizabeth had insisted that they court before becoming engaged must be notional. Surely she did not intend to introduce such delay into their union.
His sister scarce knew of Elizabeth's existence, much less of his strong attachment to her. In his missive to her he not only spread himself in a discussion of Miss Elizabeth's virtues but encouraged her to call upon the Gardiners and Miss Bennet, even before he might be in town.
He was determined to not leave Kent until Elizabeth, herself, did. The very thought of being away from her brought a pang. Being beneath another roof was bad enough. To think of her in another county altogether — it would not do.
After his letters were posted, he paced to think. How might he persuade her to hasten their engagement? The thought of many such meetings, stilted and chaperoned, daunted him mightily. Once they were wed, things between them would be easier.
He decided to walk out. Perhaps he would encounter her, walking alone in the park. How delightful would it be to walk again by her side, and she his promised bride. Surely she would be more easy in those surroundings.
But as he descended the stairs, his aunt descended upon him.
It was but a reprisal of her annoyances of yesterday but repeated oft and vociferously.
"You must know that nobody will know her, none of your family will call upon her, if you persist in this nonsense," she said, her voice resounding through the hall.
"I cannot believe that you would be so rude to my wife, Lady Catherine," he said, struggling for calm.
"He would speak of rudeness, when he proposes to desecrate the halls of Pemberley with a farmer's daughter," she cried.
"Miss Elizabeth Bennet is a gentlewoman," he replied with some force. "How can you doubt that she will do me credit?"
"She has been a guest under my roof many times this fortnight and more, and you can trust me to have read her character," she declared. "Straight away she struck me as the kind of ill bred, presuming miss that calls every country village home. How can you, who can take his pick of the best this land has to offer, settle yourself upon one such as she?"
"I seek to please myself and my honor by my marriage," he answered, losing his grip upon civility. "I leave such ambitions as you describe to those who seek to please the dead."
Lady Catherine gasped with the insult.
"Would you so disdain your honored mother's wishes?" she demanded.
"I have only your report of my mother's wishes," he replied. "She never related any such to me, save that I should marry where my head and heart agree upon their object. Miss Elizabeth Bennet is the only woman of my wide acquaintance who has met that standard."
"What manner of allurements has she employed to thus derange your views?" she asked. "I shall tell Mr. Collins to turn her from his house at once."
"If you do, her next destination shall be Scotland," Darcy said, his threat evident in his eyes, tone and attitude.
This time Lady Catherine not only staggered back but flung her hand over her heart.
"The scandal, Fitzwilliam, would you kill me with scandal?"
"There need be no scandal if you do not force the necessity for such hasty action upon me," he replied.
"It is you who forces me to the need for distasteful action by proposing to take a bride from the village midden."
"If you continue to speak of my promised wife so, I will go from your house at once," he said angrily.
She flushed with vexation then turned conciliatory.
"If you would but do the sensible thing and marry as I and your dear mother wished, there should be no need for harsh words between us."
"And if you would but treat my betrothed with respect, we would have perfect harmony," he replied.
Lady Catherine's lip quivered most alarmingly as she surveyed her nephew. She turned on her heel and stormed from the hall. Darcy stood, enraged and started when he felt his cousin's hand upon his sleeve.
He turned to see Anne, even more pale and shaky than usual, at his elbow, her companion standing close by with a look of great concern upon her face.
"Mother believes that I pine for you and blames you for my ill health," she explained, so quietly that Darcy must strain to hear.
"I am very sorry that she is so ill-informed about matters between us," he said, as gently as he could for how heated he had become.
She recoiled a half-step but recovered herself at Mrs. Jenkinson's soothing.
"She will take time to become reconciled to your marriage," she said. "Miss Bennet seems a good choice for you. She is so lively that I cannot bear her, but she seems to suit you exactly."
"Thank you, Anne," he said with gratitude. "I am glad that you, at least, see her quality."
"Time will do the trick with mother," she said, allowing Mrs. Jenkinson to support her out of the hall. "You must be patient."
Darcy was left seething. Anne's kindness could not compensate for his aunt's viciousness.
That Lady Catherine but echoed the views that had ruled him until yesterday was lost upon him as he strode out of Rosings, bent on a long walk to cool himself.
He perceived that Lady Catherine's carriage was nearing the parsonage. His heart dropped into his stomach as he realized that his aunt must be going to confront Elizabeth.