Imperative: Volume 1, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (18 page)

“As you wish.”

“It is not what I wish, but it is what I will do.”  Darcy kissed the handkerchief and put it safely into his coat.  He turned and mounted the horse, and sat looking down at her.  “Bless you, dear Elizabeth.  Do not keep me waiting too long.”  She smiled and he closed his eyes and shook his head.  “I can see already that you will keep to your own time.”  Kicking the horse, he galloped off just as the rain began again.

Elizabeth watched him disappear through the gate.  “Bless you, dear Fitzwilliam.” 

“
WHO
IS ELIZABETH BENNET?”  Lady Matlock demanded.  “I have never heard of her!  I know of no Bennets in the peerage.  I know of no landowners of that name.  Where did they meet?  Why are they marrying so quickly?”

“I do not know.  I am as much in the dark as you.  Imagine my shock when I opened the papers and read this news!  Easterly said not a word when I was in his office that very day!  My own nephew; and he never said a thing.  And that bulldog of a butler claimed he was not at home.  Richard was not in his barracks . . . It was no use, I flew back here.”  Lord Matlock said irritably and pushing the three newspapers containing the public announcement aside, picked up Darcy’s brief letter.  “He says little here, only that he is pleased with his choice and trusts that she will be an ideal mistress for Pemberley and sister for Georgiana.  He said that he will introduce us at Christmas if we decide to visit.  Notice that he makes no invitation, he assumes we will appear.”

“Ridiculous!”  Lady Matlock stood to begin pacing around the room.  “How can Darcy just . . . marry!”

“He can do whatever he damn well pleases, Grace.  He has from the moment he became master.”  Lord Matlock picked up Richard’s equally uninformative letter and threw it down with disgust.  “He is his own man, and not our child.  We have no control.  Let us be glad that Catherine did not win out.”  He said with no small amount of satisfaction.  “She will be livid!”

“
I
am livid!”  Lady Matlock barked.  “What is wrong with Cathy?”

“Nothing, she is a beautiful girl, and more importantly, she is an Earl’s daughter.  She will find her mate; she is well-dowered, thanks to you.  If our thoughtless nephew passes the chance to marry her, then that is his loss.  Unfortunately, her marrying outside of the family does us no good.”  He looked over the letter again.  “He passed on Rosings, what a damn fool!”

“Pardon?”  She turned and stared.  “You wished him to marry Anne?”

“I expected it, if his father had lived, I am sure it would have happened.”  He met her eye.  “My dear, if my father could have arranged a marriage between me and a cousin to gain a second estate, do you truly believe that he would have rejected the opportunity?  No matter the poor health of the girl?  He would have told me to wait her out, she would surely die and I could marry as I pleased afterward and had my heir.”  He raised his brows at her.  “Your dowry was excellent, but I did not need your connections, I was Viscount, after all.”

“Thank you for dismissing me so easily.”  Lady Matlock snapped.  “And for dismissing your daughter!”

“She is no different from you; she is a well-dowered woman with excellent credentials.  Darcy is not titled and he still would not be with her as his wife.  He does not need a title, he does not need anything.  He owns half of Derbyshire for God’s sake!  We were foolish to push him, look what it has cost us.  He turned to his uncle for advice instead of us.  We put the strain on the relationship by demanding this marriage.  And now that we need his support, he has no reason to give it.  We are left to scrabble for scraps of information.”  He remained silent, fingering his neck cloth, and shooting her a look, suggested casually, “Perhaps this decision is an attempt to reconcile the family.”

She rolled her eyes.  “Be serious Barton!  It drives us farther apart!  He displays his utter disdain for us by rejecting her!”

“No . . . no, perhaps he is displaying his father’s intelligence.  If he married Cathy, Catherine would be furious; if he married Anne . . . we would be the same.  By taking someone outside of the family, he is ending the battle of Pemberley permanently.  Richard has not met her but will be attending the wedding; we will know the truth of it then.”  Seeing his wife’s disbelief, he rolled his eyes.  “Who knows, maybe he met this girl months ago; we have no idea what he has been doing since he left London.  He may have met this girl in Town and followed her to Hertfordshire, we know nothing!  Richard tells us nothing!  What good is his friendship with him if he does not use it!”  Laying his head back against the chair he growled.  “I bet that he kept Richard in the dark so that he could not report to us.  I knew I should have told him I was in Town.  If he did know he would have told me all.”

Lady Matlock sat down.  “Would he?”

“I am his father.”  He spat and looked at her sharply, “You know nothing of this girl at all?  Nothing?  Could she be a fortune hunter?  Is Darcy susceptible to such a schemer?”

“Absolutely not.”  She shook her head.  “He danced but never outside of his party.  He never courted any girl although he was certainly pursued by the finest families, but all I have ever heard of him is that his personal affairs were conducted very privately.  I cannot make inquiries of my friends, that would expose the gulf between us, and you know we cannot afford to do that.  There is no way to investigate her without hiring someone, and he will be married in a week!  There is no time!”

“Clever man.  He thinks of everything.”  Lord Matlock said quietly.

“He did this purposefully?  So that there would be no time to dissuade him?”  Lady Matlock gasped.

“Of course.”  He laughed harshly.   “He made up his mind to go his own way without consideration of anyone’s feelings but his own, and is thumbing his nose at us.  Undoubtedly he has anticipated every word that we have shouted here.  By marrying quickly, the deed is done.  By marrying outside of our circle, he eliminates jealousy between all of the families who vied for his favour.”  Lord Matlock nodded thoughtfully.  “Darcy analyzes everything to death before making a move, I bet that he thought this through for months, he spotted the girl, and weighed every possibility.  Who could she be?  Perhaps a daughter of a successful sea captain, or maybe a family recently returned from the colonies, he may have purposely sought such a woman out just to thwart us.  She would have to be someone quite particular to catch his eye.  You know how proud he is of his name.  What sort of girl would appeal to him?”   He picked up the announcement and studied it.

“If that is the case,” Lady Matlock speculated, “she will need to be introduced into society, after all if I have never heard of her, neither has anyone else.  I can make quite a splash showing off the new Mrs. Darcy.”

“And thus ending the gossip that we have become estranged.  Darcy is far greater than us, the family connection is very important, especially now when Matlock is short on funds.”  He raised his brows.  “I think, my dear, it will be in your hands.  You must make friends with this girl so that I can win back our nephew’s favour and proceed with our hopes for Richard.”  Lord Matlock glanced at her.  “You have heard
nothing
about Georgiana?  He has asked for
no
advice?”

“No, but we are hardly close.  Richard has said nothing and he shares guardianship.”  She raised her brows.  “Why?”

“Nothing.”  He spoke indifferently and traced his finger over Darcy’s letter.  “I just thought that with her removed from school, Darcy would be wanting to expose her to society now that he is readying her to marry . . . and that is where you come in, his Aunt Darcy cannot do for her what you may, and it seems neither can his choice of bride.  It is time to improve relations to take advantage, my dear, convince him of our sincerity, win his trust and then advance our cause.”

“Well then.”  Lady Matlock sniffed.  “I shall write a letter of congratulations and confirm our plans to visit at Christmas.” 

“Very good.  Make welcome this wife and we will become influential to them.  And I shall write a note to Catherine.”  He shrugged when she looked at him.  “I can commiserate with her over the loss of Darcy . . . while
we
can still win Georgiana.” 

DARCY LAY IN BED with his eyes closed, listening to the steady rain.  It was not long past eight o’clock, and he had spent the sleepless night listening to Elizabeth’s voice in his head. 
She must have been so terribly frightened yesterday, learning the truth of my plans.  Is that not what she told me?  She becomes sharp-tongued when frightened?  And what did I do?  I left her there alone.  Again.  No, not alone, with that fool Collins leering at her.
  Knowing that William Collins had no more chance of marrying Elizabeth as Caroline Bingley did of marrying him did nothing to relieve his self-disgust.  “I was not going to tell her until we were married!  How incredibly arrogant am I?  I demand that she find a solution better than mine.  Of course I am correct!  How could she question me?  I am saving her from Collins!  I am doing her a service, am I not?  I am Fitzwilliam Darcy, I cannot be questioned!”  He rolled over and stared out at the rain.  “What did she tell me?  Oh yes, that I need to learn some humility.  I do not deserve her.  How dare I hope for her to love me someday?  Arrogance once again.”

He concentrated on Elizabeth’s condemnation.  “Why is it that when Richard and Uncle told me my plan was foolish, I dismissed them angrily, but when Elizabeth says the same, I feel like an absolute failure?  Her judgment counts so much more than that of men I have known my whole life.  I
must
earn her good opinion!”  His eyes opened and looking to the bedside table, he reached for the handkerchief holding her hair, and carefully opening it, caressed over the shining lock.  “And despite my words, you give me your token; I am overwhelmed that you would not reject me.  I am out of ideas, dear Elizabeth.  But I want to protect you and our children’s future just as fiercely as you do.”  Kissing the hair, he wrapped it up again and closed his eyes.  “Our children.”  The thought of the two of them married and one day as parents exhilarated him until reality intruded once more.  Darcy’s hand made a fist and he slammed in down onto the bed.  “Why?  Why can we not begin our lives together joyfully?  Anticipating the future?  Why can I not tell her all that I feel?”

Hearing footsteps in the hall, he startled and lay quietly, staring at the door handle.  He was positive he had seen it turn at least once during the night.  When he had returned from Longbourn, chilled to the bone from the wet ride, he begged off supper with the Bingleys and Hursts, and retired to his room for a warm bath and meal by the fire, then settled into his bed to think.  He could well imagine Caroline’s affront, and wondered if she had planned some sort of desperate seduction.  Picturing what that would be like he shuddered.  “Never.”  Immediately he thought of Elizabeth clasped within his arms, and groaned with the memory of her in the gown.  To distract himself from the path his thoughts were taking, he rose from the bed and walked stiffly into the dressing room.  “Parker, what are you doing?” 

“Sir?”  He looked down at the muslin breeches in his hands.  “I was going to brush these off and return them to Longbourn, you must agree sir, you would never wear such a thing if it were not absolutely necessary.  This had to be a practice piece.”  Holding the breeches up to examine closely, he pronounced his criticism.  “Very poor sewing, sir.  Why I am certain that a girl of . . .”

“Fifteen.”  Darcy snapped and took the breeches from his hands.  “A girl of fifteen made these, and I am keeping them.  Have them cleaned and put away.”

Parker blanched.  “Sir, you will not wear . . .” Darcy’s possessive grip stopped his protest.  “I see, of course, sir.  Shall we prepare for the day?”  He indicated the barbering chair and the razor laid out and waiting. 

Darcy rubbed the stubble on his face and nodded.  “Very well, do your best.”

“Will you be seeing Miss Bennet, sir?”  Parker wrapped a towel around Darcy’s shoulders and began to mix the shaving soap.  There was no response and he looked up to find his master still clutching the breeches and staring unhappily off towards the rumpled bed, and deciding that was answer enough, took up his task in silence.

A half-hour later, Darcy clattered down the stairs and into the breakfast room where the rest of the Netherfield party was gathered.  “Good morning, please excuse my tardiness.”

“Actually, I would say you are on time, it is we who are unusually prompt today!”  Bingley smiled and watched his friend walk to the sideboard and look over the offerings, then replacing the covers, poured a cup of coffee and stood drinking it.  “Not hungry?”

“Too much on my mind.”  He took a sip then turned back to add some cream. 

“Feed the body, and the mind will work far better.”  Hurst stabbed a bite of ham and smiled at Darcy’s shaking head.

“Did you sleep well, Mr. Darcy?”  Caroline asked.

“Not particularly, no.  I was disturbed by noises outside of my door.”  He looked at her unflinchingly and watched her face colour.  “Have you a ghost, Bingley?”

“A ghost!”  He laughed and looked eagerly around the table.  “Now that would be remarkable!  What did you hear?”

“My door handle rattled several times.”  Darcy shrugged and turned back to the sideboard, missing Louisa staring at her sister with expressive eyes.  Hurst sat back and folded his arms.  “Although, I suppose if it was a ghost, she could just float through the walls.”

“Perhaps it was an eager rodent.”  Hurst offered.

“That would be quite a tall mouse!”  Bingley grinned.  “Ah Darcy, I propose that you were experiencing disturbing dreams and imagined it all.  Come, eat something and clear your head.  It will do you some good.  You have much to anticipate in the next few days, I blame the lovely Miss Elizabeth.”

Turning back from the sideboard and taking his seat by his friend, he set down a plate and placed his napkin in his lap.  “Very likely.”

“Lovely?”  Caroline scoffed.  “I recall not so many weeks ago, Mr. Darcy, when you remarked upon Miss Elizabeth, ‘she a beauty, I should as soon call her mother a wit!’”  She laughed and looked around the silenced table.  “Come, you were all here, you heard him and agreed.  Truly sir, what has she done to bewitch you?  Her eyes which you have called fine I see as shrewish, her face thin and her nose . . .” Caroline warmed to her subject, “. . . has no fashion whatsoever.  She can never be one of us.”