Darcy and Elizabeth What If? Collection 1 (20 page)

Mr Darcy, owner of the vast Pemberley estate in Derbyshire, was currently staying at his London town house. It was a warm evening in late summer and the windows were open, letting in the balmy air. The noise of the street did not reach his ears, for he was sitting in his library, which was at the back of the house. The view from the window was a pleasant one as it overlooked the garden. The inside of the room was even more beautiful, for it was lined with leather books in tall bookcases and there was the glint of gold from the lettering on the spines. The room was furnished with a large desk and chair at one side, with two further wing back chairs by the fire. On a small table next to the fireplace was a decanter of brandy with two glasses because Mr Darcy was expecting his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam.

He heard the sound of the front door opening and his butler’s voice saying, ‘Allow me to show you in.’

Then he heard his cousin’s voice saying, ‘Thank you,’ in reply.

The door opened and Colonel Fitzwilliam walked in with the commanding tread of a soldier. He was not as handsome as Mr Darcy but he was well dressed and he had a good figure with an upright bearing.

Mr Darcy stood up and welcomed him.

‘I received your note,’ said Colonel Fitzwilliam. ‘You wanted to see me?’

‘Yes, I did.’

Mr Darcy invited his cousin to sit down and then poured drinks for both men before sitting down himself, flicking the tails of his black tailcoat up as he did so. They talked of general matters for a while, discussing the ongoing war against France and the state of the country, until, at last, Colonel Fitzwilliam said, ‘So what did you want to see me about? Is it about Georgiana?’

‘No,’ said Mr Darcy. He added, ‘But you will be pleased to know I have decided not to send her to Ramsgate as I had initially planned. Your comments about Napoleon wanting to invade England, and the likelihood of him landing on the south-east coast, have put me off the idea of sending her to the seaside.’

‘Good. It will be better if she takes a holiday elsewhere, just in case. But if you do not want to talk to me about Georgiana, then what is it?’ asked Colonel Fitzwilliam curiously.

Mr Darcy steepled his fingers in front of him and he said. ‘I am thinking of getting married.’

Colonel Fitzwilliam nodded. ‘At last.’

‘Yes, it is about time,’ Mr Darcy agreed.

‘So when is the wedding to be?’ asked Colonel Fitzwilliam.

‘You are going too fast,’ said Mr Darcy. ‘I have not asked the young lady yet. I intend to do so very soon, but I wanted your opinion before I take such a final step.’

‘I don’t see why,’ said Colonel Fitzwilliam in surprise. ‘The whole family has been expecting you to marry Anne for years. In fact, I am surprised you even think it necessary to ask her. It is a foregone conclusion she will say yes. But perhaps it is a good idea, after all,’ he said, as he considered it. ‘It will be pleasant for her to be asked and it does you credit that you will wait to hear her reply before treating the thing as certain. Women like to be consulted. They don’t like their acceptance to be taken for granted.’

‘You misunderstand me,’ said Mr Darcy. ‘I am not thinking of marrying Anne.’

‘Not Anne?’ Colonel Fitzwilliam’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. ‘But everyone is expecting it!’

‘I know,’ said Mr Darcy. ‘And that is one of the reasons I wanted to talk to you. The family want me to marry Anne because she is an heiress with a sizeable dowry, and she will inherit Rosings Park when her mother dies.’

‘And when you marry her, both her estate and her fortune will pass to you, as her husband,’ said Colonel Fitzwilliam. ‘That is all right and proper. It will increase the family property and the family wealth.’

‘Yes. But, you see, I do not want to marry Anne. Oh, she is a well born and excellent young lady . . .’

Colonel Fitzwilliam looked at him disbelievingly, for they both knew Anne to be bad-tempered. However, a gentleman would never say so.

‘ . . . but I cannot imagine myself sharing my life with her,’ finished Mr Darcy.

‘Or her mother,’ added Colonel Fitzwilliam with a gruff laugh.

Darcy permitted himself a smile, too.

‘No,’ he agreed. ‘Lady Catherine has a strong personality and she is not always a comfortable person to be near. And if I married Anne, Lady Catherine would start paying long visits to Pemberley. But it is not just Lady Catherine, nor even Anne’s temperament that is at fault. The fact has to be faced that Anne is sickly and she might not be able to give me an heir.’

Colonel Fitzwilliam put down his drink, in token of the seriousness of the subject. He nodded gravely. The problem could not be swept under the carpet. If Anne could not provide an heir, the future of the Pemberley estate would be at risk.

‘And then, of course, there is the fact that we have nothing in common and we would live completely separate lives,’ said Mr Darcy. ‘It is too big a sacrifice to make, even for Pemberley.’

‘And so you propose to marry someone else?’ asked Colonel Fitzwilliam, looking at him sharply.

Mr Darcy took a drink and savoured it, turning the crystal glass in his hand and admiring the rich amber colour of the brandy. Then he put his drink down, looked his cousin in the eye, and said, ‘I do.’

There was a brief moment of silence as Colonel Fitzwilliam thought over what he had been told.

‘Your family will be affronted,’ he said at last, with a warning note in his voice.

‘I know,’ said Mr Darcy, looking at him steadily. ‘But that cannot be helped. They will just have to accustom themselves to the fact.’

He spoke with all the pride, arrogance and confidence of a powerful man. He had been the master of Pemberley since his father had died some five years before and he was used to behaving decisively. He was also used to other people falling in with his plans.

‘Have you anyone in mind?’ asked Colonel Fitzwilliam.

He leant back in his chair and looked at Mr Darcy with interest.

‘Yes, I have. Miss Bennet – Jane Bennet.’

‘Bennet,’ said Colonel Fitzwilliam with a frown. ‘I don’t know the name. Are they an old family?’

‘No, they are no one of any consequence,’ said Mr Darcy.

‘Darcy!’ exclaimed Colonel Fitzwilliam with a laugh. ‘I
am
surprised! I never thought that you, of all people, would marry a woman of no consequence. Do not tell me you have fallen in love with her?’

‘Alas, no. But I like Miss Bennet. And, more importantly, I think she would make me a good wife. She is gentle and calm, and she manages her problems with great serenity. I think she will be a good friend to Georgiana, and I think she will be a good sister to her as well.’

‘Ah, yes, Georgiana.’ Colonel Fitzwilliam nodded to show he understood that Mr Darcy did not just have himself to think about. He had to consider his sister’s needs, too. ‘It is not easy for her to grow up without any young female influences in her life.’

‘I know,’ said Mr Darcy. ‘But when I marry Miss Bennet, Georgiana will have a friend and companion. And Miss Bennet will provide Georgiana with other sisters, too, for she has four of them.’

‘Four?’ asked Colonel Fitzwilliam, startled.

‘Yes, four. The youngest two are silly, but will no doubt improve when I engage a governess for them. The middle sister is serious, and perhaps something might be made of her. The fourth sister I have not yet met because she is on a tour with her aunt. Her uncle was with them but he had to return to London to deal with some urgent business. However, his return to London suits me. I have decided to go and see him tomorrow and ask him for Miss Bennet’s hand in marriage.’

‘Wouldn’t it be more usual to ask her father?’ said Colonel Fitzwilliam with a frown.

‘It would, but her father is dead and her uncle is now head of the family. If I want to propose to Miss Bennet, it is Mr Gardiner’s permission I must seek.’

‘Well, you seem to have it all planned, although I am surprised, I must confess,’ said Colonel Fitzwilliam. He sank deeper into his chair, stretching out his long legs in front of him and crossing them at a booted ankle. He was relaxing with the warmth of the evening sun, which was sinking slowly in the sky, and the warmth of the brandy. His whole attitude was becoming less stiff and formal. ‘In fact, I don’t understand why you wanted to speak to me at all. I am sure you have decided to go ahead whatever I might say.’

Mr Darcy stood up, revealing his full height, and poured both men another drink. The light from the setting sun danced across his cheeks and splashed across his hands, turning the liquid in the glasses to gold.

He handed a glass to Colonel Fitzwilliam, then sat down again. He arranged the tails of his coat beneath him and looked at the floor.

‘What is bothering you?’ asked Colonel Fitzwilliam. When Mr Darcy did not reply he said, ‘I have known you a long time. Darcy – since we were both children, in fact – and there is something you are not telling me. What is it?’

‘A pair of fine eyes,’ said Mr Darcy.

Colonel Fitzwilliam looked at him curiously.

‘You are not usually so poetical,’ said Colonel Fitzwilliam.

‘I know.’

There was a few minutes of brooding silence.

‘So, to whom do these fine eyes belong?’ prompted Colonel Fitzwilliam.

‘I don’t know,’ said Mr Darcy, looking at his cousin.’ And that is the problem. I have seen them only once, two years ago, but they have haunted me ever since.’ Mr Darcy took a drink and then went on. ‘I was travelling through the streets of London in my coach when I saw a carriage coming in the opposite direction. There was a young lady sitting inside, with a maid as her chaperone. She had dark hair and a pleasing countenance, but it was not those features that attracted my attention. It was her eyes. They were sparkling with humour, and they burned themselves on to my memory. I saw her only for a minute, but I have not been able to forget her.’

His handsome face became thoughtful and it was clear he was recalling the fine eyes he had just mentioned. There was a softness in his face that was not usually there, and a hint of a smile about his shapely mouth.

‘Have you not tried to find her?’ asked Colonel Fitzwilliam, sitting up more in his seat and leaning forward.

‘Of course.’ Mr Darcy’s eyes were brooding. ‘But my efforts have been unsuccessful.’

Colonel Fitzwilliam’s comment was typical of a man of action. ‘If she made such a profound impact on you, I am surprised you did not jump out of your carriage at once. You could probably have stopped her carriage,’ he said.

Mr Darcy looked at him, and it was clear from his expression that Mr Darcy of Pemberley would never behave in such a manner. He had too much pride. He did not say so, but he did not need to. Both men knew it.

Instead, Mr Darcy said, ‘At the time I did not know what a lasting impression she was going to make on me.’

Colonel Fitzwilliam set his drink down on the table.

‘It is an interesting story. But, even so, I don’t see what this has to do with your plan to propose to Miss Bennet,’ he said.

‘Only this: I am finding it hard to bring myself to the point of proposing. What if I meet the other young lady again?’

Colonel Fitzwilliam shook his head. ‘If you have not been able to find her in two years, it is very unlikely. Besides, you will have to marry sometime. You cannot wait for ever, on the slight chance you might find this mystery lady again.’

‘Then you think I should go ahead?’ asked Mr Darcy, looking at his cousin with interest.

‘It is not about what I think,’ said Colonel Fitzwilliam. ‘It is about what you think.’

Mr Darcy nodded thoughtfully.

‘And what do you think?’ asked Colonel Fitzwilliam.

‘I think that, even if I found the young lady again, she would be married by now,’ said Mr Darcy. ‘She was of marriageable age when I saw her, and that is two years ago. It is only this thought that has made me decide to try and forget her.’

‘I agree,’ said Colonel Fitzwilliam. ‘Besides, you cannot marry a young lady for her eyes. I can understand they have made a deep impression on you, but you know nothing about her. You might not like her if you ever met her again, despite her fine eyes. Or you might like her, but not enough to marry her.’

‘You are right, of course,’ said Mr Darcy with a sigh. ‘It is a dream and nothing more. But Miss Bennet is real, and she can give me the real marriage I need.’

‘But tell me,’ said Colonel Fitzwilliam, settling back into his chair once more. ‘How did you meet her? If she is not from an old family then you cannot have met her in the usual way.’

‘No. I met her by chance.’ Mr Darcy steepled his hands in front of him. ‘In fact, I have Lady Catherine to thank.’

‘Lady Catherine!’ exclaimed Colonel Fitzwilliam.

‘Yes. Do you remember her clergyman, Mr Collins?’

‘The one who was killed in a carriage accident while visiting relatives?’

‘Yes, the same,’ said Mr Darcy. ‘Lady Catherine wanted me to find out if his affairs had been settled. As you know, she advised him against going to see his relatives in the winter, when there was ice on the roads, but by the time her letter arrived he had already set out. The relatives he went to visit were the Bennets because he was Mr Bennet’s heir. Mr and Mrs Bennet took him out in their carriage to show him the surrounding countryside and the brake failed as they were going down a hill. All three of them were killed.’