Fitzwilliam Darcy Page 6

  “Mr. Collins was just about to explain to me the purpose of his mission here,” said Mr. Bennet.

  “Oh, yes, and Miss Elizabeth you have arrived just in time, for I understand you are acquainted with the gentleman I seek.”

  “Certainly, I will assist you any way I can, sir,” she said. Elizabeth found her cousin’s manners deeply diverting, but had no notion of whom he spoke.

  “Lady Catherine has impressed upon me the utmost urgency of the situation, you see. I must find her nephew: Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, now the most venerated Earl of Matlock. I must speak with him as soon as he may be found.”

  Chapter 10

  Elizabeth’s amusement vanished.

  “What business do you have with the Earl, Mr. Collins?” she asked. Mr. Bennet looked over in some surprise.

  “I forgot,” he said. “Of course, you must be acquainted with him.”

  “We are acquainted,” said Elizabeth slowly. She felt the weight of each word as they came. “I met him after Jane fell ill while visiting Netherfield Park, which is where he is staying.”

  “Capital,” said Mr. Collins. “Lady Catherine was most insistent that I speak to him as soon as he may be found. Perhaps I may call on him there this afternoon.”

  “I am not sure that is prudent, Mr. Collins,” said Elizabeth. “After all, you are not yet acquainted with the family.”

  “You refer, of course, to Mr. Bingley and his sisters. We are not yet acquainted, I grant you, but as I carry a missive from Lady Catherine herself, surely my calling there cannot be considered inappropriate by anyone,” said Mr. Collins. He was firm in this opinion, having wrestled with that very question on his arrival. It was why he’d chosen to call first upon Mr. Bennet.

  “I am not sure that’s correct, sir,” said Elizabeth, but Mr. Collins did not hear her.

  “As I’m sure you’re already aware,” he said. “Lady Catherine is the sister of the Earl’s late mother.”

  “Yes, I am aware of that fact,” said Elizabeth. It occurred to her that if Darcy’s aunt had sent a letter by so intimate a messenger, the message must be important indeed. “I do hope all is well.”

  “Indeed, cousin,” said Mr. Collins. “It is my humble duty to express to the Earl the wishes of Lady Catherine regarding his impending nuptials.”

  “He is to be married?” asked Mr. Bennet.

  “Not yet,” said Mr. Collins. “But soon. Lady Catherine is most insistent.”

  Had her would-be engagement to Darcy been a legitimate one, Elizabeth would have resented such officious involvement. But as their involvement was nothing more than playacting, and still a secret one no less, she had nothing to say.

  “Has Lady Catherine a bride in mind?” asked Mr. Bennet, his outward expression all idle curiosity but for the humor in his eyes, the likes of which Mr. Collins did not notice.

  “I believe Lady Catherine has most graciously entertained the possibility of her daughter becoming countess,” he replied very seriously. “The Earl would be blessed with the best company in England if he makes Miss de Bourgh an offer, as I assured Lady Catherine just the other morning before I left.”

  Mr. Bennet was about to question him further on this point when a knock came at the door.

  “Yes, Hill, what is it?”

  “A Mr. Darcy has arrived to speak with you, sir. He asks to meet with you privately.”

  “You mean the Earl, you fool!” cried Mr. Collins. He appeared to be nearly overcome by the insult, as though preparing to set down Hill any moment.

  “I don’t know about any earl, sir,” she said, making curtsy. “The man in the parlour asked me to tell the master that Mr. Darcy had arrived and wished to speak with him. That’s all I know, sir.”

  “Preposterous,” blustered Mr. Collins. “Unconscionable.”

  “Mr. Collins, calm yourself, please,” said Mr. Bennet. Elizabeth could tell he struggled to keep the smile from his face.

  “Mr. Bennet, I must deliver this letter to his lordship right away.”

  “I hesitate to intervene, Mr. Collins, but I’m afraid your letter will have to wait,” said Mr. Bennet, whose amusement had dissipated. “If his lordship wishes to see me, see me he shall.”

  Mr. Collins tried to interrupt, but Mr. Bennet continued.

  “For surely you would not try his lordship’s patience by subverting his aim. He must have some specific purpose for calling, for I have never met the man. It cannot be prudent to thwart a man of such lofty position, can it?”

  Mr. Collins’s protestations wavered under this consideration.

  “Nor would it be in any man’s interest to upset the design of so dear a relative of Lady Catherine de Bourgh.”

  By this Mr. Collins was rendered mute.

  Elizabeth watched the dispute with confliction, for she knew what they did not; that is, the purpose of Darcy’s visit. Her father would indeed be surprised.

  “Your wisdom does you credit, Mr. Bennet,” said Mr. Collins finally. “But I would like to speak with the Earl as soon as possible.”

  “Of course, sir,” said Mr. Bennet as he rose from his desk. “Excuse me.”

  Elizabeth made to follow her father from his study when Mr. Collins spoke again.

  “Miss Bennet,” he said. “Did I understand your father correctly that you have been acquainted with Lord Matlock?”

  “Yes, sir,” she said. “Though he was only Mr. Darcy when I met him first.”

  “Is he not the highest, most elevated personage you ever saw?”

  Elizabeth lacked the words to reply at first; her second attempt was not much better.

  “He is a person of sound character and much kindness, sir,” she said.

  “I rather knew he would be,” said Mr. Collins, quite satisfied. “For his aunt is the walking definition of grace and generosity.”

  Elizabeth inclined her head, hoping against hope that the conversation drew to a close.

  “But what was the nature of your acquaintance?” asked Mr. Collins before she could withdraw. Elizabeth tamped down on her nerves and turned to answer him as cordially as she could manage.

  “My sister Jane fell ill at Netherfield about a fortnight past. When I arrived to help care for her, I took the same cold. We were the unexpected guests of Mr. Bingley at his home for above a week,” she said.

  “I’m surprised you were in any condition to make a new acquaintance at all,” said Mr. Collins. “If your illness was so severe.”

  “It was not severe,” said Elizabeth. “And I met Mr. Darcy –that is, his lordship– before I became ill. He and Mr. Bingley were the epitomai of kindness to us.”

  It was not lost on Elizabeth that he was Darcy in her mind when she felt warmly toward him; only during the few times she’d felt compelled to distance herself was he Matlock to her. Not wishing to reflect on the distinction too deeply, she dismissed it as a humorous quirk.

  “Well,” Mr. Collins huffed. “I am certain they are kindness itself, especially his lordship, but I cannot imagine what led you and your sister to impose on his lordship’s friends for so long.”

  “We were ill, sir, as I said.” Elizabeth was losing her temper.

  “You said that was nearly a fortnight ago,” said Mr. Collins, now all but ignoring her. “And that you met him before he became the earl. Was that then your purpose in staying on so long?” he said, his voice rising. “Would you dare to presume a man of such an elevated station in the world would consider taking you to wife? Or did you seek to trap him while you had him captive?”

  “Mr. Collins,” cried Elizabeth. “I understand that you know little of my character, as we have only just met, but your suppositions do you no credit. Can this really be the mind of a gentle, serving clergyman at work?” Agitated in the extreme, she left the room. Mr. Collins followed her into the hall.

  “Do not presume to hope that the nephew of Lady Catherine de Bourgh would diminish his condition in life so thoroughly by consorting with a penniless, unconnect
ed young woman. Despite your manifold attractions, Miss Bennet, and whatever doughty character you claim to possess, I strongly suggest you reconsider any aspirations you have in this quarter.”

  Elizabeth rounded on Mr. Collins, but her scathing reply was interrupted by her father as he exited the parlour.

  Lord Matlock followed him into the hall, his face expressionless.

  Mr. Collins inhaled audibly. “My lord,” he said, his voice nearly a whisper.

  “Miss Bennet, may I speak with you?” said Matlock, ignoring Mr. Collins entirely.

  Mr. Collins clearly wanted to intervene, but Matlock took her arm and they walked to the end of the hall. Mr. Collins turned to Mr. Bennet on the instant.

  “Mr. Bennet, I do hope there is some matter of business afoot. Your daughter appears to have formed some romantic designs in the direction of the earl. It is in my power to assure you, with the most forceful language with which I am able,” said Mr. Collins, not very forcefully. “Your daughter will never be approved by Lady Catherine de Bourgh.”

  “For that, I expect she shall suffer all her life,” said Mr. Bennet.

  “Well, perhaps,” said Mr. Collins. He did not wholly understand Mr. Bennet’s reply, but his confusion slowed his diatribe enough that he began to calm. “Though Lady Catherine is most generous; perhaps Miss Elizabeth will be forgiven in time. After all, who could blame her for hoping so high?” finished Mr. Collins with a magnanimous air.

  “Who indeed, Mr. Collins?” said Mr. Bennet.

  Mr. Bennet had a great deal on his mind at present; Mr. Collins was little more than court jester in the play transpiring before him just now and thus required no further engagement than his current amusement.

  “Yes, who indeed?” said Matlock as he and Elizabeth returned.

  “My lord Matlock,” said Mr. Collins, snapping to attention. “My name is Collins, my lord.”

  “I know who you are,” said Darcy. It may have been perhaps the only time Elizabeth had ever heard him speak with neither good humor nor gentleness in his tone. She did not care for the haughty air it gave him; nor could she blame him in this instance, given the source of irritation at present.

  “Permit me, my lord, to present you this letter.” Mr. Collins handed over the sealed pages. It looked to Elizabeth’s eyes to be quite a long letter, indeed. “Your aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, charged me with its delivery.”

  Darcy took in his cleric’s apparel. “You’re the new rector at Rosings, then?”

  “I am he, my lord,” said Mr. Collins, flushing with pleasure at the recognition.

  “If you are only just arrived, I expect my aunt gave you this letter two days ago.”

  “That is correct, my lord.”

  “Hm.” Darcy took Elizabeth’s hand and folded against the crook of his elbow. “Then I’m afraid your information is outdated, for I’ve just secured Mr. Bennet’s permission to court his lovely daughter.”

  “M- my lord?”

  Elizabeth registered Mr. Collins’s gasp and subsequent sputtering, but she was more particularly curious about her father’s response. Mr. Bennet had remained silent during this last exchange; silence from Mr. Bennet was unusual and concerned her more than the absent Lady Catherine’s ire.

  Over Mr. Collins’s stammering, Mr. Bennet finally spoke. “My lord, I understand you’ve already met my wife and my other daughters. They returned from town some time ago; I believe you’ll find them in the garden just now. Perhaps you might go pay them a short visit while I speak to my daughter alone.”

  Darcy bowed deeply. “Thank you for seeing me, sir.”

  “Yes, well,” said Mr. Bennet. He appeared to take Darcy’s measure as fully as a man might just by looking at him at length; that is to say, not fully at all. “Yes. Go on, then. My daughter will join you presently.”

  Darcy bowed again and with a stern look at Mr. Collins, departed.

  “You, sir,” said Mr. Bennet to Mr. Collins. “As family, you are welcome to stay here if you like; however, I think you may find your interests best suited by setting off for Rosings at once. Perhaps it will be a comfort to Lady Catherine to hear such news from yourself, rather than from a letter or a messenger.”

  “That is a consideration I had not… considered, Mr. Bennet,” stammered Mr. Collins. “I can appreciate such foresight in a man. Please make my excuses to Mrs. Bennet and your other daughters.” Mr. Collins refused to look at Elizabeth.

  “Yes, I will,” said Mr. Bennet. “Godspeed, sir.”

  Mr. Collins left without another word.

  “Thank goodness,” said Mr. Bennet. “I was afraid he’d be moving in.”

  “You wished to speak with me, father?”

  “Yes, Lizzy. Are you seriously considering this man, even in courtship?”

  Elizabeth hesitated; she and Darcy had not discussed how much to reveal to her family, though they intended to reveal all to his own sister.

  “I would like to consider his suit,” she answered; for that much was true.

  “Do you love him?”

  She blushed. “It is too soon to say, Papa.”

  “Hm,” he said. Mr. Bennet gave Elizabeth the same considering look he’d given Darcy only moments ago. “I suspect there is some detail that you aren’t sharing with me.” The suspicion in his gaze lifted. “But as you have fully twenty times the good judgement as the rest of your sisters, I trust that you have a very good reason for not telling me the whole of it. Keep your secret, then. If you need my help, you have it.”

  Elizabeth hugged him hard.

  “Thank you, father.”

  “Now, go tell your mother. I advise you to ask your mother about the finery required to become a countess, my Lizzy; otherwise your earl will never get to leave.”

  Elizabeth did as her father commanded, joining Darcy and her mother and sisters in the garden.

  Chapter 11

  “Oh, my dear,” cried Mrs. Bennet for the fourth time that hour. “I am so, so happy. And his lordship; have you ever seen a handsomer man?”

  Elizabeth smiled. It was easier to indulge her mother’s effusive glee without her faux-suitor present. Better her mother expel it at home before the ball in a few days hence, though as Darcy was to be the guest of honor, Mrs. Bennet assumed her share of that same title by proxy.

  “I still don’t see why you should have him all to yourself, Lizzy,” pouted Lydia.

  “It’s not fair,” echoed Kitty, for despite her additional two years, she followed Lydia in everything. “Next thing we know, Jane will be marrying Mr. Bingley and there will be nothing but farmers left for the rest of us.”

  “You met his lordship when he was still Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth. “Did you like him then? For if you have the prior claim, I’ll have to bow out to preserve my honor.”

  “Don’t be silly, Lizzy,” said Mrs. Bennet. “You can’t bow out, not now! Oh, but I have never been so happy! A countess!”

  “We are not engaged, mama,” said Elizabeth, tired of repeating herself already. In the mind of Mrs. Bennet, the contract was already signed.

  Elizabeth bore these conversations as best she could. Whenever she imagined her family’s disappointment at finding out there would be no such wedding, it helped to remember that her sisters would at least have some security in the form of dowries.

  Still, the pain of so deep a falsehood had been a constant presence since Darcy had announced his suit a few days past. The invitation to Mr. Bingley’s ball had arrived on the heels of that good news and the Bennet household had been in high spirits ever since.

  Elizabeth began to think that perhaps she ought to plan to travel soon, just to escape the continual talk of suitors and nuptials. Perhaps she should go see her aunt and uncle Gardiner in London. Amidst the talk of ball gowns and wedding plans, Elizabeth amused herself by drafting a letter in her mind.

  * * *

  Darcy was having a less pleasant time of it during the days leading up to the ball at Netherfield. Bingley was enthus
iastic in his support. No doubt he perceived Darcy’s courtship as a prequel of his own impending happiness, since Darcy’s pursuit of Elizabeth would likely mean more reasons for Bingley and Miss Jane Bennet to be thrown together.

  The other occupants of the house were not quite so encouraging. Darcy had received congratulations from Bingley’s sisters and from Mr. Hurst, but Miss Bingley had not spoken to him since that halted conversation. He knew he must have imposed on her feelings by not coming to her first; Darcy also knew she was a proud woman, and he would not see her further embarrassed by broaching the subject with her now.

  The day of Bingley’s ball approached rapidly. Every invitation that had been sent had been answered ‘yes’ with haste, for everyone for miles was keen to get a look at the new earl and the woman said to have snared his heart.

  That was Darcy’s own doing, he supposed. To stave off any further interference from Lady Catherine, Darcy had written the gossip piece himself and sent it to every paper in the country he could think of. On first publication, it had the immediate effect of slowing the tide of visitors he and Bingley had been forced to deal with at Netherfield daily. The news had traveled rapidly and had its desired effect. Darcy was no longer being sought by any but the most determined of fortune hunters.

  He found the circumstances brought less peace than he would have liked.

  He’d had to send the announcement before conferring about it with Elizabeth, and that also weighed on him. She ought to have been warned, but Mr. Collins’s voluble protestations and his aunt’s lengthy letter outlining precisely the qualities Darcy ought to seek in his future countess had chafed. He would marry whom he chose, and while his aunt’s advice had some merit, Darcy no longer felt called upon to come to heel over it.

  Darcy visited Elizabeth as often as propriety allowed, and still found himself wishing he could see her more often. In more private moments, he could admit to himself that he sometimes forgot their courtship was only for show.