Goodly Creatures: A Pride and Prejudice Deviation (66 page)

Lizzy emitted a hollow laugh as she added, “And she has it on good authority from her nephew, the Viscount Wolfbridge, that I seduced an honourable young man from one of the best families in England and demanded twenty thousand pounds as payment for not forcing him to offer for me.”

Elizabeth let out a very witchlike cackle. “What an arrogant, officious woman, Lady Catherine de Bourgh is. Mr Darcy, your proposal has made me wish I had made it clear to her that I plan never to marry.” A decidedly unladylike snort preceded the reflection. “I should have enjoyed telling her
‘you are nothing to me.’
But at the time she was harassing me, all I could think to do was deny her the satisfaction of assuming she had intimidated me.”

She put her head in her hands and sighed. When she resumed speaking, her voice was barely audible. “I received a letter from my sister Jane today. She is very vulnerable, because for the third time in her life her heart has been broken. She is acting very recklessly and publicly cut Mr Bingley at a ball. Then she spent the remainder of the evening talking to the ‘charming and handsome’ Lord Wolfbridge.” Her hands trembled as she waved Jane’s letter. “I am desperately afraid your despicable, predatory cousin is thinking he can have another bit of sport with a Bennet.”

Her face exhibited momentary defiance, but then seemed to melt into madness. “If he hurts her, you need not fear. I will not ask for more money—I will kill him; and I do not care if they hang me.” Her voice became ragged and hysterical. “I have a knife, and I am serious about my threat. You, who have taken six years to rid yourself of your misgivings, will have to explain to Bethany, Lewis and Georgiana why their friend was hanged.”

Lizzy shook her head in disgust. “Now, if this was a Moliere play, the audience would laugh at me for being outrageously histrionic. Why did you not leave me alone when I asked?” Once again, Elizabeth put her face in her hands. This time she began to sob quietly.

Mr Darcy sat helpless across from her. He tried to offer her his handkerchief, but she ignored him. Finally her sobs subsided, and she lifted her face. He saw neither fury nor madness. The haunted, look he had first seen during their walk to Cheapside was there. He recalled that only a few days before, during the picnic, he had seen the return of those lively flecks of joy that had initially drawn him to her.

Elizabeth spoke once more—her voice as lifeless as her eyes. “It is inexcusable that I have been so emotional. Mr Darcy, you deserve a full, civil explanation of why I will never marry—anyone. Please meet me in the grove tomorrow at dawn. I am sorry about the early hour, but I want to catch the coach for London at ten. Now, I must go upstairs and start packing.” Her voice began to tremble. “When Mary returns, she will hold me and rub my back. I am in need of her comfort.”

Mr Darcy wished he had held his tongue when she asked him. She had spoken the truth—he and his family were the cause of her dead eyes. Why had he not realized how abhorrent it would be for her to marry him? Fools rush in…

45 A TALE OF TWO SISTERS

Fitzwilliam Darcy remained at Hunsford parsonage after Elizabeth retired upstairs to await the return of Mr and Mrs Collins. While walking about the room, trying to plan his words, he noticed the framed sampler. The embroidered quotation provoked a poignant memory of reading Mr Coleridge’s verse to Bethany. She had touched his cheek and gazed at him with those blazing eyes she inherited from her mother.
‘How beautiful, Papa… you are great, and Lew and I are small, but still he loves us all.’
It was painful thinking about… her daughter, so he refocused his thoughts on his failings.

His renowned witlessness was first on his list. Of course she would not be like all the other women who swarmed around him when they learned of his income and heard about Pemberley… and now Rosings. Numerous times in his presence she had stated her intention of never marrying, but it was his insufferable arrogance that had caused him to conclude her words were simply another example of her putting her decided opinions on display. He had not even stopped to think why, she who had been raped by his cousin, betrayed by his wife, accused of treachery by him—might think differently.

He had loved her for what seemed like an eternity, and once the misgivings he had harboured for so long had faded, he thought only of making her his. He had never given any consideration to how what she had endured might have affected her. Georgiana had lost confidence as a result of Wickham’s duplicity. Richard’s Esperanza had lost the will to live after being raped and beaten. What changes had Edmund’s cruelty wrought in Elizabeth? That damn light in her eyes always seemed to befuddle him. When he did occasionally observe it, he would rush to assume she was restored to that former joyous being… because that was what
he
wanted.

The day of the picnic was just such an occasion. She had been so easy with him. He was certain there had even been a bit of flirtation before she fell asleep nestled into his side. All those signs had made him forge ahead to quickly bring to fruition
his
own happiness.

When Mr and Mrs Collins arrived back at the parsonage, they were surprised to see an ashen and agitated Mr Darcy waiting for them. Lady Catherine had informed them he was tending to estate business. The urgency in Mr Darcy’s voice was noted by the couple.

“Mrs Collins, may I have a conference with you. Mr Collins may participate, but my questions are for you, and they are with regards to your sister.”

Mr Collins said, “I will leave. There is no concern for propriety as long as the doors are left open. If you need more privacy, we can all three go to my study.”

“I think we may need privacy.”

Mrs Collins asked Rose to bring refreshments to her husband’s study. After she delivered some tea and some of her special cake, Mr Collins asked that they not be disturbed.

Mr Darcy began speaking, his voice fraught with emotion. “Before I ask my questions, I should inform you, I proposed to Miss Elizabeth, and she rejected me. I would not ordinarily reveal such a personal failing, but my mortification is secondary to the distress your sister is experiencing as a result of my ill-conceived action. She begged me to stop, but I refused to take heed.” He paused and attempted to compose himself slightly better. “Lady Catherine abused her earlier today; during my aunt’s tirade, she heard the source of her most vile accusations had been Lord Wolfbridge.” Darcy looked at Mary with apprehension before his next admission. “Later, Colonel Fitzwilliam confirmed what Miss Elizabeth had long suspected… that I was the cause of Mr Bingley abandoning your sister.” When Mrs Collins said nothing, he quickly added with a nod of his head toward the ceiling. “She expressed a need to be comforted by you when she left me to go upstairs. But, before you go to her, I need to know about Miss Bennet. I believe I have misjudged her.”

Mary took in all that Mr Darcy said, and asked with apprehension, “What exactly would you like to know?”

“Your mother said she was destined to be mistress of Netherfield. Is that her desire or your mother’s?”

Mary did not answer quickly. She paused to collect her thoughts as to the proper approach. “Mr Darcy, I am unable to give you a simple answer. If you are willing to listen, I think I would like to tell you a story.”

Darcy nodded for Mary to go ahead.

“Every morning before I do anything else, I say a prayer for my two older sisters. When I was eleven, never would I have guessed either would have needed divine intervention. To me they led charmed lives. Jane was, and still is, the most beautiful and goodly of God’s creatures. Lizzy is smart and utterly fearless—except for horses. And as a child, she found wonder and joy in everything.”

Mary was inwardly chuckling at the remembrance of Lizzy’s fear of horses, when she noticed a flicker of pain cross Mr Darcy’s pale expressionless face. “I was the odd child… the middle child. Jane and Lizzy were a pair and Kitty and Lydia became inseparable. Jane was my mother’s favourite, and Lizzy was my father’s. All this is probably the reason I turned to God for comfort.” Mary smiled lovingly at Mr Collins before she continued. “My point is not that my older sisters were cruel to me. They often included me in their adventures. It is just that I was in awe of them, and felt myself plain and dull by comparison. Truth be told, some of my reputation for self-righteousness among my sisters might have been the result of jealousy.”

Mary’s face reflected her search of the past. “Thomas Trent was the only boy, and the leader of Jane and Lizzy’s group of friends. Charlotte Lucas, now Forster, was the oldest and the protector of the group… mainly that meant curtailing Lizzy’s tendencies to climb trees. Becky Trent is Lizzy’s age, so she was always included, but I am a year and a half younger. I was not old enough to participate when they first became fast friends.”

Mrs Collins studied Mr Darcy’s face to see what he thought of her tale. He was inscrutable as ever, but she thought she might have seen some wistful amusement at Lizzy’s tree climbing. “Jane and Tom had been very close since Jane was four and Tom was five. As a child, I imagined they were brought together by God in his wisdom. But, in truth, it all happened because Lizzy caught measles.” Mary halted again in fear her audience might be annoyed by such a long explanation of their family’s history. But, Mr Darcy’s interest had seemed to increase when she mentioned her sister’s illness. “The story has been told so many times by both my father and Sir Walter Trent, that I sometimes believe I remember it happening, but I know that to be impossible since I was only one. However, my mother
is
very excitable, so my father’s story of her panic rings true. In Mama’s defence, she loves her children fiercely and wants what
she
thinks is best for us.”

Mary’s thoughts drifted toward her own impending motherhood. She hoped she could learn to keep under ccontrol those motherly tendencies that had often been stressful to her. “Despite my father’s love of embellishment, I think this a true account of the incident. Mama was petrified that all her children were going to die, once Lizzy became ill. Papa did his best to calm her; but soon Jane and I were ensconced in the nursery at Netherfield. Jane, having heard the wailings about Lizzy, became frightened that something dire was about to happen to her little sister. She would not stop sobbing, and the nurse went to find Lady Trent. When she arrived in the nursery, Jane and Tom were lying on the floor and Jane was rubbing his head. Tom had shown her a dip in his scalp, and the feel of it had calmed her fear.”

“He had a dip in his scalp?” Darcy immediately thought of Bingley’s similar oddity.

Mary worried that he thought the image she had painted to be improper behaviour, but he had asked to understand. There was defiance in her voice as she stated, “Yes, and Jane continued to rub his head right up until propriety demanded she stop. Her contention was that it was soothing. They became practically inseparable, and begged their parents to let them see each other often. Soon they were old enough to put themselves in each other’s company.” Mary softened and smiled at her memories. “Their affection blossomed beyond her delight with his concave head, and his appreciation for her golden curls and blue eyes. She looks the most like my mother, who had been a real beauty in her youth, and Sir Walter had been one of her greatest admirers. He did not marry her because of her lack of connections and significant dowry, but I do not think he has every stopped admiring my mother. Nothing improper, mind you… my father is his best friend. Tom admired Jane’s beauty as his father had admired my mother’s, but he also loved her serenity and her kind heart.”

Mary took a sip of tea before continuing, “As Tom matured, he became very interested in the management of Netherfield. In that respect, he took after his mother, and was a very serious young man. As his interest in the estate developed, so did Jane’s.”

“I spoke with Miss Trent the night of the Netherfield ball. She is very knowledgeable with regards the property’s management. Does not her father care about his responsibilities?”

Mrs Collins noticed how quick he was to judge Sir Walter. She answered in the hopes she could deflect his natural arrogance back toward the mission at hand—understanding Jane’s love of Netherfield. “Of course he does Mr Darcy, but he enjoys a fashionable life more. Unfortunately, his God given talents do not include running an estate prudently. Early on, he put his hopes for that in the very sensible son the Lord had given him.” When she observed Mr Darcy’s look of contrition, she continued. “Thomas Trent knew the estate was not on a sound financial footing, and he began imagining and sharing with Jane things he would do to improve revenues once he was of age. They were destined to have the kind of marriage you so eloquently described recently with regards Kitty and Mr Reynolds.” Mary looked to pull the exact wording from her memory…
‘Strong affection, admiration, respect and common purpose.’

Mary captured the proud man’s eyes. “Mr Darcy, I hope I am not boring you with my long explanation of Jane’s feelings about Netherfield. She does care very much about the estate, but I am trying to help you understand it is not as a crass opportunist.” He gave her another nod; and she picked up the story again. “Every day Jane and Tom went out riding, and they used their rides to visit tenants and notice things that needed to be repaired. One day, when Tom was fifteen and Jane fourteen, they visited a tenant whose little boy was sick with a cold. Tom and Jane quarrelled over whether to call in the apothecary. Jane said, no, it was only a trifling cold, and she would have Mrs Hill make up some hearty broth and have it delivered to the family. Tom feared it had settled in the child’s lungs. The following night, Tom took sick, and the cold brought on a fierce fever. The tenant’s son survived, but Tom died on the third day.” Tears threatened and her voice became little more than a whisper.
‘The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away.’

Mr Collins, who had been holding her hand, noticed her distress, and tightened his grip. “Both of our families were devastated. He was the hope to save my mother and my sisters from our financially precarious situation with the entail. If Tom and Jane had married, we knew we would always have a home at Netherfield. After his son’s death, Sir Walter’s will to prevail at estate management, which as we talked of before had never been strong, was lost. As you know, he has been forced to cut expenses by moving to Bath and leasing his estate. Rebecca Trent and Mr Richards, Netherfield’s caretaker, rely on my sister’s aid. She still visits the tenants and checks for things that need to be addressed when she is out on her solitary rides. One of my sisters rides, and the other walks to soothe their pain and guilt.”