Mrs Collins' Lover Page 8

  “The second.” Lady Catherine stared at him suspiciously as Anne replied also. “Elizabeth.”

  The air seemed to escape the room and Darcy was unable to respond. It took all his power to remain upright and maintain a calm façade. He could do nothing regarding the silence which filled the room and was grateful when Fitz took up the conversation.

  “When shall we have the opportunity to meet the new residents of the parsonage?”

  “Mr. Collins will come to-morrow morning. I suspect you will not meet Mrs. Collins until Sunday.” Lady Catherine’s eyes narrowed, and Darcy realized he must reply in some manner.

  “Do you not invite her to join … Mr. Collins when he comes to Rosings?” he managed to ask.

  “Not on Tuesdays,” she replied without any sign of saying more on the matter.

  “Well, then we must wait for the honour.” Fitz placed a hand on Darcy’s shoulder. “If you will forgive us, Aunt,” he bowed and then turned toward Anne and did the same, “Cousin, we should like to remove the dust of the road so we might better enjoy your company.”

  “Of course.” Lady Catherine waved them away, but she continued to watch Darcy closely as he bowed and excused himself.

  The door had barely closed behind them when Darcy’s arm was seized, and his cousin propelled him up the steps to his room. When that door was closed and locked, he watched as Fitz crossed to a table by the window and poured two glasses of brandy, one half full and the other only a finger. The fuller glass was thrust into Darcy’s hand as he was urged to drink. Darcy obliged and allowed the Colonel to press him into a seat.

  “So, she is the reason you have been in such a state these last months?”

  Darcy shook his head, still unwilling to believe that Elizabeth had … he could not bring himself to complete the thought let alone speak it aloud. His eyes fell closed. “This must be a nightmare,” he murmured.

  “I am certain I am awake.” Fitz took the seat opposite him and sipped his brandy as he waited for Darcy to speak.

  “She would never … Elizabeth is not like any other woman I have ever known.” Darcy downed the remainder of the brandy and held his glass out to his cousin.

  Fitz took it dutifully and returned with it filled halfway once more. “Elizabeth?”

  “I should have stayed.” Darcy shook his head. “But it was impossible. Her family …” Unable to continue, he drank deeply from the glass, feeling the burn of the liquor for the first time.

  Nothing more was said as both men finished their drinks. Finally, Fitz stood and took the glass from Darcy’s hand.

  “Are we to stay?”

  The question broke through Darcy’s thoughts. “I am obliged to oversee the ledgers. Perhaps, should I work diligently, we can be gone before Sunday.”

  His cousin stood before him, an unreadable expression upon his countenance. Finally, he nodded and turned to leave the room.

  “Fitz.”

  The Colonel stopped but did not turn.

  “Thank you,” Darcy managed.

  Fitz gave a brief nod and left.

  No longer able to keep his grief at bay, Darcy leaned forward and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes as the first sobs seized him. “You fool,” he muttered over and over.

  ***********

  Darcy looked up to see the Colonel leaning against the study doorjamb. He turned his attention back to the numbers before him. “What is it you require, Fitz?”

  “I have reconsidered our discussion of yesterday.”

  Confused, Darcy sat back and stared questioningly at his cousin. “I only remember one discussion, Fitz, and I do not see what could be reconsidered.”

  Fitz stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. He approached the desk, staring at his hands. “Will Mrs. Collins not think it odd that you do not come to see her to wish her joy in her situation?”

  Though he attempted to respond, Darcy’s mind would not allow such an idea. How, in all that is good, could he stand in her home and congratulate her on marrying the most foolish man in all of England … No, that title belonged solely to Darcy himself. He shook his head.

  “Hear me out, Darcy.” His cousin leaned on the desk. “You knew them both in Hertfordshire and, from what Anne has told me, you spent a good deal of time in Mrs. Collins’ company.”

  “I beg you not to call her that,” Darcy murmured.

  “What am I to call her then?”

  His cousin’s voice held a hint of pity, causing Darcy to ignore him.

  “As the two highest ranking households in the area, we often attended the same parties. Bingley was infatuated with her older sister; and she and Elizabeth are close.”

  “Then you see how it would be injurious should you slight her. If Bingley continued a courtship …”

  “Bingley has left Netherfield Park and does not plan to return.” Darcy picked up his pen and returned his attention to the ledgers.

  Silence filled the room. Fitz remained as he was for a period, but finally took a seat and steepled his fingers beneath his chin. “At your urging?”

  “His sisters wished to return to London for the holidays.”

  “And you did not dissuade them.”

  Darcy ran a hand through his hair. “You did not meet them. The Bennets …”

  “I am certain they have faults, what family does not? What were their crimes that you would play with lives in this manner? It is not your way, Darcy.”

  The Colonel’s reproach pierced Darcy’s guard. “Uncles in trade; loud, obnoxious mother and younger sisters; indolent father. What do you wish me to say, Fitz?”

  “Was Bingley happy there?”

  Darcy did not reply as he thought of his friend’s growing melancholy, so similar to his own.

  “I only ask because I saw him at White’s the night before we left London. He was not his normal cheerful self. Oh, he laughed and spoke readily as he always has, but some of the life seems to have gone out of him. He also drank more than his usual.” Fitz’s gaze fell upon the glass of brandy at Darcy’s elbow.

  “What would you have had me do?” Darcy pushed away from the desk, crossed to the window, and rested an arm upon the frame. “I do not believe Miss Bennet’s affections were as fixed as Bingley’s. Truly, I did not realize he felt so deeply until we were in town and the damage done.”

  “Could you not have allowed him to learn for himself?” A hint of anger entered his cousin’s words. “Is Bingley not his own man? He is intelligent, if not a great reader such as you. He is capable of seeing when a woman does not share his regard. Remember Miss Tillerton?”

  “She played with him like a cat with a mouse. Bingley was easily able to see the danger there.” Darcy shook his head as he ran a finger along his lower lip. “He would have proposed, and Miss Bennet would have accepted at the urging of her mother. Bingley would have been trapped in an unequal marriage; worshiping his wife while supporting her family, until he realized she felt no more for him than she would a passing stranger.”

  “Why would he have to support her family? I thought you said Mr. Bennet is a gentleman.”

  “He is, but his estate is entailed on heirs male.” Darcy returned to the desk. “Mr. Collins.”

  “Ah.”

  Hoping his cousin would now understand and leave, Darcy picked up his pen and returned his attention to the ledgers.

  “So, in marrying her cousin …”

  Darcy interrupted him before his cousin could use that God-awful moniker again. “Elizabeth most likely saved her mother and sisters from poverty.”

  They sat for a time, the scratching of Darcy’s pen the only sound, until Fitz finally stood and moved toward the door. He paused before leaving.

  “You must see her; you know that you must.”

  Darcy sighed.

  “Mr. Collins is to arrive in a quarter hour and will speak to our aunt for at least an hour. We could accompany him to the parsonage afterward, pay our respects, and have it done.”

  Fee
ling the fight drain from him, Darcy nodded. His cousin left without saying more and Darcy attempted to return his attention to the ledgers, but all he could think of was seeing Elizabeth again. How would he address her? How would she react to seeing him? In a weak attempt to drown out the images filling his mind, he finished the glass of brandy.

  Darcy closed the ledger as he stood, knowing beyond a doubt that he would be unable to concentrate until he had faced his demons. Demon. Elizabeth.

  ***********

  “Tell me once more why this is a good idea,” Darcy whispered as they walked the path leading toward the parsonage. Mr. Collins was quickly disappearing from sight, eager to give his … Elizabeth some warning of their approach, and Darcy was dragging his feet in an attempt to delay the meeting as long as possible.

  “It must be done.” Fitz clapped him on the back. “You will feel better once it is over.”

  Darcy glared at him.

  “You will be glad it is over and more determined to be gone by Sunday?” His cousin smiled. “I, for one, am anxious to meet the woman who has you so undone.” His smile slipped. “Forgive me, Cousin. I did not mean to make light of your situation.” He patted Darcy’s shoulder once more and let his hand fall to his side.

  The smoke could be seen coming from the parsonage chimneys. Darcy focused on how it thinned and blew away. In no time he was approaching the house and began taking note of every detail. The garden sloping to the road, the house standing in it, the green pales, the laurel hedge, the small gate which led by a short gravel walk to the house. Before he could reconsider, he was standing in a small parlour at the back of the home and she was before him.

  A cap covered her luscious brown curls, though one or two had escaped their bondage and framed her face. Little else had changed about her appearance, but everything was wrong. Her maidenly dress had given way to a matron’s, though a fichu ably covered her pale breasts. The normally tanned cheeks now appeared a touch sallow, perhaps due to winter’s having shortly released its hold. But the most appalling change was her eyes. Those eyes which he had so often described as fine and intelligent were now red as though she had been crying, and her sparkle of wit appeared dim.

  “Mr. Darcy.” She curtseyed and he belatedly remembered to bow. “Lady Catherine had mentioned your approaching arrival.” A slight lift of her brow gave him hope, but she cast a quick glance toward Mr. Collins and said no more.

  “Yes, my aunt is always anxious for our visit.” He turned toward Fitz. “May I present my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam. He always accompanies me here.”

  The Colonel stepped forward and bowed over her hand.

  “Welcome to the parsonage, Colonel.” Elizabeth appeared about to say more, but Collins cleared his throat and she limited herself to motioning toward the chairs.

  They were seated and a maid entered with a tray. Elizabeth poured the tea, fixing Darcy’s precisely as he liked it before asking Fitz if he preferred sugar or cream. Mr. Collins blathered on about improvements Lady Catherine had made to his home while Elizabeth sat quietly, occasionally replying to a comment from the Colonel. When the rector finally took a breath, Darcy seized the opportunity to inquire of Elizabeth after the health of her family.

  “They are well, sir, though the sisters closest to me are currently in London. Have you perhaps happened to see them there?” Her eyes held a hint of longing.

  “No, I am afraid I did not have that pleasure.”

  Her gaze returned to her cup as Mr. Collins spoke. “Miss Bennet was to come visit us at this time, but … plans had to be changed.” He looked meaningfully toward Elizabeth who seemed to shrink in her seat.

  The cup chattering against its saucer was the first Darcy realized he was shaking, and he set them down before anyone else took note. He was uncertain what else was said or how it was managed, but within minutes he found himself back on the road to Rosings.

  They were out of sight of both the parsonage and the great house when Fitz stopped and kicked a stone into the brush. “She shows signs of being a beautiful woman, Darcy.”

  “That shadow is not the woman I knew.” He continued on until he entered Rosings and returned to the study where he worked the remainder of the day. A new determination had entered him. He had to leave Kent before Sunday. He could not bear to see her again in this manner.

  *CHAPTER SEVEN*

  Dinner that evening was a misery. None of his companions behaved any differently than they normally would, but Darcy was lost to all about him as his thoughts were drawn repeatedly to the parsonage; more particularly to the lady of that abode, or rather the changes in her. His Elizabeth would not have been silent during a visit. She would have teased and laughed, making everyone feel at ease.

  “Darcy!”

  He lifted his eyes from his plate to find Lady Catherine, both cousins, and Anne’s companion, Mrs. Jenkinson, staring at him. “I beg your pardon, Aunt, I was wool-gathering and did not hear what was said.”

  Lady Catherine, ever the stickler for showing respect, frowned over his familiarity; or perhaps it was his inattention, Darcy cared not which. “Have you found a situation with the ledgers which distracts you? I am certain there can be nothing of such great concern.”

  “I have only begun my assessment, Lady Catherine,” he replied and was rewarded with a barely distinguishable nod. “I have never found anything out of the ordinary in the past and do not anticipate anything different this year.” Darcy exchanged a look with the Colonel before adding. “Indeed, I suspect Fitzwilliam and I will be forced to end our visit earlier than originally anticipated. Before leaving town, there was some speculation over the Dragoons being called off leave sooner than originally expected.”

  He could not help the blush that covered his cheeks. Though he had not lied (there were always rumours regarding the war and who would be sent where and when), disguise of any sort was his abhorrence. Thankfully, the Colonel added his declarations that the Corsican was becoming a most irritating nuisance.

  The creases in Lady Catherine’s brow had deepened. “You both know how I dislike talk of such things, particularly in mixed company and at dinner. These should be discussed amongst men. Darcy, I expect you to avoid worrying Anne with such topics when you are wed.”

  Both Anne and Darcy sat taller at the statement. They exchanged a quick glance before Anne gave a slight shake of her head. Darcy agreed it was too early in his visit to begin that argument.

  Though Lady Catherine was determined to see the cousins wed, most likely so she could maintain control of Rosings, neither of the parties involved desired the union. After living in submission to her mother for three and twenty years, Anne was looking forward to coming into her inheritance on her birthday the following year. She would then be Mistress of Rosings Park and, as had been discussed often by the three cousins, Lady Catherine would be relegated to the widow cottage or their London town home which was currently leased as they rarely travelled thither, and if they did, they stayed in the Fitzwilliams’ home.

  “I asked how you found Mrs. Collins,” Lady Catherine’s voice recalled Darcy to the conversation.

  His hand shook as he speared a small potato. “She is much altered from when I knew her in Hertfordshire.”

  “And for the better.” Lady Catherine smiled as she took up her wineglass and motioned for it to be refilled. “Mr. Collins has wisely followed my directions and brought her independent nature to heel.” She shook her head. “You cannot imagine, Fitzwilliam, the things Mrs. Collins would say when first she arrived. But what can be expected? She was raised with no governess. Think of it; five daughters, no governess until just recently, and all were out before the eldest were wed. Luckily, Mr. Collins was able to rectify that.”

  “I like Elizabeth,” Anne said in her barely audible whisper. “We have discussed literature and art. She is very knowledgeable.”

  “Mrs. Collins has been indulged by her father and has been educated in things not meant for ladies. Had the Bennets engaged a
governess years ago, she would have been trained in more rational things, and Mr. Collins would not have had such a difficult time with her.”

  Darcy felt as though his countenance was set in a permanent grimace, but Fitz gave no sign that he was revealing his true feelings on the subject. He could only hope his aunt would finish soon and lead Anne and Mrs. Jenkinson to the drawing-room so he could release the grip he had on his serviette under the table. He did not doubt the material would be in shreds before that time arrived.

  “I prefer a spirited woman,” Fitz said. “These mindless porcelain dolls of the ton who can only parrot a man’s words without knowing the meaning bore me.”

  “I have no desire to know what a soldier desires in a woman, Fitz.” Lady Catherine looked appalled at the turn the conversation had taken and quickly changed the subject. Darcy had never felt such a wealth of gratitude and he thought he just might kiss his cousin later.

  The time for the separation came with Lady Catherine giving strict instructions that the men not dawdle over their port. Before the door closed, his cousin was pressing a full glass into Darcy’s hand, of which he swallowed a third immediately.

  “I thought for a moment you were encouraging the topic, Fitz. Thank you for finding a way of forcing her ladyship to end it.”

  “Think nothing of it, Darcy. I do believe it was all for the good though. Lady Catherine took your thunderous frown as agreement with her condemnation of … the lady’s previous behaviour.” Fitz sipped his port and leaned back in his seat. “How are you?”

  “She is never far from my thoughts. What must he have done to make her change so drastically in such a short time? I last saw her the end of November. It is not yet April.” Darcy lowered the glass to the table as he stared off.

  “I have wondered that myself.” Fitz said nothing more and the men sat in silence for several minutes. “Anne likes her. When Rosings changes hands, perhaps things will ease for her.”