Chapter 10

Elizabeth was in need of a ramble. Four days after Christmas, a letter from Jane arrived. Her words conveyed little of the joy of the season. She began with acknowledging pleasure for her sister's account of Colonel Fitzwilliam's interest, but quickly pointed out the chance of their meeting again seemed highly unlikely. The most distressing of the passages explained why. It related news Lizzy had feared after her sister's account of Mr Collins' visit in her previous letter. Guilt followed fear because she had dared to hope her sister would do precisely as she had done. Jane's words about her current dilemma deserved a reread.

I received a proposal from Mr Collins and refused him. The silly man required me to tell him 'no' four times. I must learn to be more forceful in my words Certainly you would have been successful with only two attempts. Mama immediately threatened to disown me as well. However, this time, Papa managed to persuade her not to take such drastic action with only a minimal amount of effort. I am certain he would have given up if she had made him work too diligently. His argument was simple. "My dear, do you not think it would appear unseemly to our neighbours if we were rumoured to have banished two of our daughters… especially if one was known to be your favourite. They might begin to believe my words about you being nonsensical."

Even Mama saw the wisdom in what he was saying. However, she needed to exact some revenge for my disobedience. I will not be spending any time in London with Uncle and Aunt Gardiner. Even if Colonel Fitzwilliam is in London and tries to become reacquainted, he will not find me in Cheapside.

It took but a subtle hint for Mr Collins to promptly leave Longbourn to stay at Lucas Lodge. Within two days he was betrothed to Charlotte. Both seem pleased with the arrangement. The reverend has been saved the mortification of rumours of my refusal, and Charlotte has secured her own establishment. Should I be proud of my match making? Mama is furious with what I have wrought.

The day was biting cold, but the sun shone brilliantly. She dressed appropriately for both the weather and the long hard vigourous walk she needed to confront her misgivings. It had been her way since childhood in Hertfordshire to determine the best solution for any problem. Mr Goodwin had told her how to travel from Lambton to a remote part of Pemberley. He said there was a well-worn path leading to a beautiful clearing with a stream and waterfall at the top of a heavily wooded hill behind the house. Mr Darcy's father had granted access to those in the neighbourhood many years ago. It sounded the perfect place for her reflection. Surely no one would encounter her as she walked and sorted through so many troubling contradictions with the choices she and her sister had recently made. Sensible people would be home before a fire reading a good book in such frigid temperatures.

As she started her journey, her first thoughts were the same as her immediate ones upon reading her sister's words. She should have known this would happen and accepted Fitzwilliam's proposal. Blame for Jane for rejecting a ridiculous man, was not at all in her mind, but Mr Darcy's proposal to her had been an advantageous match. Her refusal had been to spare them both the inevitable disillusionment of a marriage born strictly of duty.

From the anxiety over making a poor judgement, she moved to wrestle with whether his final words had actually given her permission to think of him as Fitzwilliam? Next, several other things came up that bothered her. Why had he left her with the compliment of being a rational creature? She had said those words to him in haste as she left the library at Netherfield. She had hardly expected him to remember, but yet he had. He also seemed to know what would please her such as a book on China by Marco Polo in Italian or the spot he took her to observe the countryside from a nearby peak. Even Jane was not as attune to what pleased her.

At one point, he had seemed intent on kissing her, even before he proposed. No that was wrong. He had shown no evidence of such a desire. She had been the one who had felt a strong hope he would kiss her. She shook her head and sadly muttered, "I am a fool to think he had been moved in that direction." However, reaching back to their first meeting at Netherfield she felt certain he had a preoccupation with her mouth. She had originally assumed he found it unfashionable and was disapproving, but she was unsure now.

Her reverie of hoping to be kissed again caused her to address her most closely guarded secret. Many, including Fitzwilliam, knew she had been kissed in Vauxhall Garden by Mr Wickham, but no one knew she had been kissed a second time by him. Elizabeth had asked him to kiss her to seal their agreement to marry. He had immediately obliged her, but It had been different than she expected. His first one had been filled with a passionate urgency and even an invitation to explore with him. As it was happening, she had imagined hearing a melody and believed he was attempting to encounter her soul. Her immediate need had been to help him find it and possibly learn the secrets of his as well. The experience had resulted in her pushing her body as close to him as possible, until finally the rational Lizzy told her she was acting dangerously.

The second kiss of Mr Wickham's had been different. There was a pleasant caress quality to his lips touching hers, but it felt impersonal. Her first thought was he must do this often. It reminded her of Mr Biingley's practiced amiability. She was quite sure he had seen her look of uncertainty, and later often wondered if her reaction had been his reason for not showing up at the church. That seemed a far-fetched conclusion for his reaction

She reached the clearing and was delighted by all she surveyed. The cascading waterfall and the stream that caught its offering looked quite beautiful in the brilliant winter sun. Ice crystals had formed around the edges of the pool and sparkled like precious gems. She was high enough to see the lake below where it emptied and the broad expanse of lawn across from it. The swath of grass was flanked by woodlands. She wished she could explore them to see what secret places they might hide. The house was too hidden by the trees to have a clear view of what it looked like. She could tell it was stone, but little else.

Lizzy decided this was the perfect place for her wishing, hoping, dreaming and even the often-necessary duty of deciding what was to be done. As she sat contemplating the pool swallowing the waterfall's offering, she resolved to come here often. It would be her new Oakham Mount, but not during the summer when all those picnicking would be in attendance. She would come in less than hospitable times when she could be alone with the beauty and her thoughts. She thanked Fitzwilliam's father for being so kind to his neighbours. His gesture made her wish she had met him.

Her Mr Darcy had offered to have her visit Pemberley, see his library, and meet his sister. She wondered whether with her refusal he would rescind his offer. A smile graced her face with the memory he had asked her to sing Voi che sapete for them. She began running through the words. They were more beautiful in Italian but the message was closer to her misgivings in English. The title and opening verse pondered something she was often confused by these days. "You who know what love is." But did she? She felt as alone as Cherubino trying to understand the feelings she sometimes had for Fitzwilliam. Just like in the song she would go from experiencing what seemed like her soul being on fire to quickly freezing with the fear he felt nothing but gentlemanly duty toward her. She had often looked for something more in his eyes but had yet to see it. As soon as she felt the prick of tears at such a thought, she chastised herself for letting the brilliance of the sun catch her crying. Her decision had been most logical; it was best for both of them.

In an attempt to divert her thoughts, she noticed there was another trail following the stream down the hill. The forbidden path beckoned. The memory of his telling her he and his sister would be at Matlock through the New Year urged her to take a chance. It was quite possible no one would see her if she walked down to be able to get a glimpse of the house. Her sense of propriety prevailed with the decision to wait for him to be the one to show her the rest of Pemberley; despite believing he would surely forget his promise.

Four days after Christmas, Darcy and Richard rode to Pemberley to meet with Mr Wright and a Mr Atkins who procured horses for the military. His steward had been advocating the estate raise horses specifically for that market. The war meant the demand was high and it did not appear the need would be lessening anytime soon. The proposal was appealing, and Richard had been encouraging him to do as his steward suggested. He had made a similar proposition to his father, but the Earl of Matlock could not be bothered to change the way the estate had been run for the last century.

While Darcy approved of Mr Wright's suggestion, today was not when he would have chosen to finalize it. He appreciated being back at Pemberley, but he would prefer to be in his library with a good book in front of a roaring fire on such a freezing day. However, he needed to return to treating his steward in a courteous manner. He had too obviously cooled toward him upon hearing of his dancing with Lizzy. He had no desire to lose Mr Wright due to jealousy—even if the thought of them together sickened him.

He considered making his apologies to the three men and riding up the trail to the waterfall. What better place to contemplate his unsuccessful proposal and all the discontent this winter had lately made him withstand.

Richard was droning on about what were the most important qualities for a war horse. He pretended to be listening carefully, but instead he was thinking he had been a fool on Tompkin's Peak who refused to act. He should have kissed her. She had obviously felt something for him while they were overlooking the countryside. She had taken his arm. Instead of responding as he desired, he had put on his mask of indifference. Why was he so worried she would learn he was the one who ruined her life? It was the truth and he should have been prepared to own it. He had after all been proposing marriage. And despite her misgivings, he had meant it for all the proper reasons.

If his wretched proposal was not enough grief to contend with, Isabelle had devised a plan to retaliate for his laughter and breeches comment. She accused him of eavesdropping as she told the story to Cassandra of the insolent teacher asking her about seeing The Marriage of Figaro. She had told him she believed he had something to do with the humiliating incident at the school. It had even been insinuated they were involved. The Earl of Matlock, after hearing the rumour of such an unsuitable attachment, believed he had a duty to his family to ensure his nephew married appropriately. It took little more than his wife's come-hither smile to persuade him to agree to host a Twelfth Night Ball as a means to assist Darcy and Richard to procure appropriate wives.

As he was reeling from that disaster, Georgiana joined the chorus of his duty to marry. She was quite certain had he provided her with a sister to confide in, she would never have been susceptible to Wickham's charm. How convenient she had forgotten he had tried to marry, and it was that same woman who jilted him for their uncle who was organizing a Fools' Fete to find him a bride.

The moment to head up the incline to his favourite spot for solitude passed. Fitzwilliam Darcy reined in his personal misfortunes to concentrate first on fulfilling his familial duty. Once that odious task was complete, they could escape to London to help his cousin find a way to marry his beloved Miss Bennet. Eventually he and Richard would make their way to Kent for Easter. If he was successful in his quest, he would not have to see the Count and Countess of Matlock until their son's wedding… or perhaps if he was lucky, they would refuse to attend.

Once back in her room at Mr Goodwin's house, Lizzy decided an attempt to share some of her thoughts might help her make sense of what she was experiencing. Her first thought was to write to Jane about Darcy's offer. On further consideration she decided that would not help. It seemed wrong to burden her with anxiety about making wrong decisions. Her sister needed to hear approval of her refusal of a ridiculous man from her closest confidant. She should also hear about Lizzy singing in Italian for the countess who jilted Mr Darcy. The goal was to make Jane laugh and smile and not allow doubt to cloud her thoughts. It was time to regale her with tales of her Derbyshire Christmas festivities and advise her that she could now, like Charlotte Collins, bake a mince pie. The final part of her letter would be about her plans for what to wear to the Twelfth Night Masquerade. She would leave her sister pleasantly diverted.

The letter to her aunt would be the one to allow her to seek help with some of her conflicting thoughts about Mr Darcy. Lizzy was aware that behind the scenes, she had argued with Uncle Gardiner to keep her niece from having to marry someone for such a trivial impropriety. Once that had been unsuccessful and ended in the debacle of being left at the altar, she had persuaded diligently for her solution of Elizabeth being sent to Lambton. Her letter expressed the debt she felt for the happiness she was experiencing. No one in her family cared for her future as much as Aunt Maggie and possibly Uncle Philips.

She dared not mention his proposal, but she wrote descriptively of their lovely afternoon spent at Tompkin's Peak. Her aunt would be left with a clear understanding of how important his friendship meant to her. That was harmless enough for her Uncle Gardiner to know and possibly convey to her parents—if they even cared enough to ask.

Darcy waited until the division of the sexes and the traditional glass of port after dinner to discuss his plans with Richard. At the other end of the table, Lord Matlock and Lord Smallwood were having their customary disagreement.

Based on the apoplectic countenance of his uncle and his cousins could-not-care-less smirk, Darcy assumed the topic was the Viscount's gambling. They had been having the same argument for years and his heir refused to listen. Matlock was his to inherit, and Bertie insisted he had the right to do with his birthright as he pleased. It often was remarked by the son during their tiff that the father had felt no need to honour duty when he wed and bed his nephew's betrothed.

There might have been a time when he derived pleasure from eavesdropping on this ongoing disagreement, but tonight he was looking to the future.

"Mr Wright and I are putting inquiries out with agents about leasing an estate. Once we are in London, I will discuss my requirements with my solicitor in the hopes he will have further ways we can pursue our needs."

"Why are you taking such a drastic step to help me wed Miss Bennet?"

"As you know Miss Elizabeth turned me down because I was only thinking of duty to preserve her reputation and did not offer her my love… or even affection… I believe she felt respect was lacking as well."

"But what does that have to do with me?"

"First, I care for you and your happiness. Second, your loyalty to me when your father stole from me that which I valued most at the time needs be repaid. The same is true with regards to helping me ensure Georgiana was protected from her youthful indiscretion. In short, I owe you."

"So, what are your requirements for this estate you will lease for me and my bride?"

"I will only be able to afford something smallish. I would say about the size of Longbourn. Also, I do not want it to be too far away from Pemberley… within a half day's ride at most. This last request is optional, but please know, dear cousin, it is crucial to my felicity."

"What is it?"

"You will allow Miss Elizabeth to live with you. She loves her sister more than any other in the world. I want her to be happy."

"I believe there is more. Fess up Fitzwilliam, what are you leaving out?"

"If she is close, I will be able to visit often as I help you learn to run the estate. She and I have a most pleasant friendship, and my dream is I am able to allow her to see my true feelings. When I am confident, she believes duty is not my goal but is instead my need to cherish her the way she deserves, I will consider renewing my proposal."

"Should I tell her or her sister your machinations to ensure her sister's happiness?"

"I would prefer not, but I leave it with your conscience. You and your betrothed should have no secrets. My hope is to come clean with the knowledge of my act to allow you and her sister to marry as well as confess I was the one who kissed her in Vauxhall Gardens when I offer for her a second time."

Colonel Fitzwilliam laughed at his cousin's predicament. "I was unaware you had not divulged that bit of information yet."

"No, I am afraid she will loathe me for ruining her life."

"But she told you to run away."

"I realize that is so, but neither of us knew her family would act so cruelly toward her. She had made it clear since she was a child her cynicism toward marriage. Still, they were intent on forcing her to marry George Wickham for a petty anonymous indiscretion. We were both in costume with our faces covered."

Richard continued to chuckle despite the look of rage and utter disgust on Darcy's face. "And yet it is a truth universally acknowledged that honesty is the best policy when it comes to love and marriage."

"And yet, so few follow your advice," Darcy said with a sigh.