Imperative: Volume 1, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (14 page)

“Unfailingly kind.”  Darcy nodded, pleased. 

“I took the liberty of assuring them of your . . . admiration of Miss Bennet, although I assure you, sir, I gave none of your secrets away.”  He hastily added.

“My admiration, my secrets?  What are you saying?”

Parker cleared his throat and was careful not to look directly at him.  “You took very particular care in your dress, sir, when you were to meet her, or even thought the possibility was likely.”

“I always take great care in my appearance!”

“Of course, sir, but this was beyond the ordinary, fussing over colours and fit, your hair, your teeth, your scent, everything has taken on heightened attention since the first evening in Meryton.  Your general demeanour changed as well.  I concluded early on that it was a lady, sir.”

“You did?”  Darcy stared.  “How did you know?  I hardly admit . . . I like her, I am not in love!”

“No, sir.”  Parker agreed solemnly.  “And of course, neither is Miss Elizabeth.”

“Why do you say that?”  He asked sharply.

“She avoided you as much as possible at Netherfield, sir.”  Parker smiled to himself to see Darcy’s furrowed brow and could just imagine him puzzling out the meaning of Elizabeth’s studied avoidance.  He was glad of it, it was good for him. 

“She accepted my hand.  She admits to liking me.”

“Indeed, sir, my mistake.”  He acknowledged and catching his master glaring at him, he cast his eyes down and returned to his book. 
Not in love with her, my foot!

At last the carriage rolled through Meryton just as the steady light rain changed over to an absolute downpour, and by the time they dashed from the carriage into Netherfield, they were drenched.  Darcy stamped his boots, and looked around fruitlessly for somewhere to drain the water from the brim of his hat.  At last a maid appeared and he began to unbutton his coat when Bingley arrived. 

“Welcome back!  We were just debating if you would be delayed, how are the roads?”

“Not dry.”  Darcy shrugged out of the coat and ran his hands over his sleeves, checking for dampness.  “It was not bad until we arrived here.”

“Oh, Mr. Darcy!”  Caroline rushed towards him.  “We were so concerned, what may we do to comfort you?  Some tea, some broth?  Surely you wish for something warming?  A bath?”

He stepped back from her.  “I am fine, Miss Bingley, thank you.  A change of clothes, perhaps.”

“A glass of port?”  Hurst smiled from the parlour door, glass in hand.  “That qualifies as warming.”

“It does, indeed.”  Darcy gratefully followed Bingley to his study, and Hurst grinned as he closed the door on Caroline.  “Thank you.  I do not know that I was quite prepared to face your sister without fortification.”

Bingley laughed and poured out a glass, then handing it to him, perched on the edge of the desk. 

“I cannot say that I blame you.”

Hurst chortled and took a seat.  Darcy looked at him quizzically.  “I have to say, Hurst, this is the first time I have ever seen you so jovial.  Has Hertfordshire grown on you?”

“Ah, seeing Caroline’s plans for you thwarted has given me new life, Darcy.  I am enjoying her failure immensely.  The years of plotting gone with a kiss, and right in front of her nose!”  Hurst beamed. “Excellent!  And now to listen to her ripping Miss Elizabeth and the rest of the clan apart, while hearing my wife warn her to keep her tongue civil in your presence . . .”

“Why?”  Darcy crossed his arms.

“So she will remain welcome at Pemberley.”  Bingley smiled when Darcy rolled his eyes.  “So, tell me, is everything complete?”

“Yes.”  He sighed and taking a sip of his drink, walked around the room, stretching out his legs.  “The settlement, the license, a reluctant blessing from Richard and my uncle.”  He shrugged to see Bingley’s concern.  “It is hardly a surprise.  Nobody will just accept my decision.”

“Well, Mrs. Bennet is thrilled.”

“I had no doubt of that.”  Darcy said dryly.

“Mr. Bennet less so.” 

“Again, no surprise.”

Bingley paused and looking down into his glass, he asked casually, “Did Miss Elizabeth write to you at all?”

“No, but I did not expect her to, the time was short.  Why?”  Darcy stopped his wandering and looked at Bingley closely.  “What is wrong?”

“She has had a hellish week, Darcy.”  Hurst announced as he went to refill his glass.  “From the neighbours implying that the engagement announcement is a hoax, to claims of compromise . . . real compromise, not that practically chaste kiss you fooled her with . . .” 

Darcy’s face coloured and he covered with a glare.  “Hoax?  What do you mean my announcement was a hoax?”

Hurst ignored him, “Then there was that cousin refusing to let go.”

“Mr. Collins.”  Darcy sighed.  “Yes, I was expecting him, he was obstinate?  Why did her father not tell him the truth?”

“Mr. Bennet had no intention of telling anyone of the news; he even forbade the family from speaking of it until he had no choice when the neighbours saw the papers.  I gather that he hoped you would change your mind.”  Taking a drink, he gestured with his glass as Darcy frowned, “
That
little omission was what prompted the neighbours’ suppositions of a hoax perpetrated by Mr. Bennet for you insulting his daughter, which would in turn force you to propose to her,”  Darcy’s mouth dropped open, “and then even worse, about what happened here while Miss Elizabeth was visiting.”

“This was the compromise you mentioned?”  Darcy demanded.  “What was said?  Were you witness to this?  Was Elizabeth forced to endure this?  Good Lord!”  He started pacing angrily.  “Did nobody protect her?  Her father did not put a stop to this?  Her father who claims he loves her?  Who said these things?  Was this her supposed friends?”

“Yes, and they did not seem to care if it was she or you who instigated it, but only wished to speculate on the details.  She was in tears when we found her in the street.”  Bingley looked to Hurst who was nodding solemnly and watching Darcy’s unceasing movement.

“In the street?  Crying?  Alone?”  Darcy closed his eyes.  “Why did I leave her, I would not have gone if I had any idea . . . This is entirely my fault.  I cannot take her from here fast enough.  How did you find her?  Where was she?  What happened?”

“She was running from a dinner at her uncle’s home, the solicitor?  She was so hurt from the neighbours, but it was that other fellow who sent her over the edge, what was his name, Bingley?”

“Wickham.”  Bingley nodded and stopped his glass as he lifted it to his lips when he saw Darcy’s instant reaction. 

“
WHO
?” 

“Wickham, you know that fellow you grew up with at Pemberley?  He attempted to impress Miss Elizabeth, telling some tale of woe, suggesting that you were using her, offering himself as a suitor instead . . . rather oily individual I thought when I was introduced to him in Meryton.  He did his best to convince Miss Elizabeth that you were as low as the manure on the sole of his boots.  I did my best to assure her of your goodness, and your dislike of the man, but knowing no details, all Hurst and I could offer was an escort home when she ran away from the dinner.  We did stop by on the way back to Netherfield to assure them of her safe return home, and to . . . express our displeasure with the affront that she was forced to endure.  And of course to confirm that you did indeed propose marriage to her because we were witness to it, as well as proclaiming your sincerity and goodness.”  Darcy remained stock still, far too many thoughts were flying through his head.

“Bingley’s displeasure was noted by all and received respect, as it should as the occupant of Netherfield, although he really should learn to raise his voice.”  Hurst smiled.

Bingley’s cheeks coloured.  “I barely had a right to enter that home, let alone deliver a set down to the assembled people, but I did want to speak with Miss Bennet about her sister, so that she might comfort her when she arrived at home.” 

At last focussing on the men, Darcy pulled himself out of his reverie.  “I appreciate all that you did to protect and defend Elizabeth; and am humbled that you would express support for me after it was I who created this hailstorm of misery she has had to endure.”  His anger rising again, he seethed and then hissed.  “Wickham.”  Both men startled with the fury in his low voice.  “Where is he?”

“I do not know, I was introduced to him Tuesday, he was to join up with the militia . . . he paid a call to Longbourn to see Mr. Bennet, Miss Elizabeth said, to tell him about how you cheated him of a living?”  Bingley’s brow creased at Darcy’s expression of disgust.  “She said he claimed he could not stay in the same town as you, and would be leaving immediately.  Darcy?”

“When was this?”

“Wednesday, I would assume he is gone by now, he knew you were due back today.”  Bingley watched him drain his glass and slam it down on the desk.  Striding to the door, he pulled it open.  “Darcy!  Where are you going?”  He ran after his friend as he continued his path to the front door, and pulled it open as well.  Darcy’s face was as dark as the stormy sky, and his eyes flashed as furiously as the lightning that bounced from cloud to cloud. 

“I am going to Elizabeth, and I am going to grovel at her feet for forgiveness.”  He glared.  “I left her to the derision of the neighbourhood because her father was unwilling to accept defeat.  I trusted her family to joyfully announce the news of our engagement.  I never should have gone without publicly crying the news myself.  Instead I left her to face jealousy and disdain because I was in such a hurry to fulfil my needs.  And worst of all, I left her to face Wickham; God knows what he told her.  If he knew that I was returning today, I have no doubt that he is gone, but I will confirm that in the morning.”  He drew a shaking breath and looked to Bingley, clenching his fists and speaking through gritted teeth.  “Did he touch her?”

“I . . . I do not know.”  He looked to Hurst who shrugged when Darcy fixed his glare upon him.  Spinning, he strode off into the deluge.  “Darcy!”  Bingley snatched up the coat and hat that were drying near the door and ran after him, yelling over the pouring rain.  “Take my carriage!”

“I will ride.”  Darcy tucked the coat under his arm and slammed the hat onto his head, then dashed down the drive for the stables.  Bingley stood staring after him helplessly then finally feeling the water soaking through his clothes, ran back to the front door.  

“Well,” He wiped his face with the handkerchief Hurst offered.  “I expected anger, but not this.”

“I would have been disappointed to see less from him.”  Hurst said thoughtfully.  “This shows great commitment to Miss Elizabeth.  If this was merely convenience, he would have waited at the least for the rain to let up before offering a token apology and confirming that the plans were still on.”  Hurst raised his brow at Bingley, who nodded and smiled as he realized what his brother was saying. 

“Does he know that he loves her?”

“No.”  They lifted their hands in farewell when Darcy rode by as quickly as was safe on the sodden roads.  “No, but I would enjoy bearing witness when he finds out.” 

“WHAT SHALL WE WEAR to the ball?”  Jane smiled and poked Elizabeth, who was resting on the wide window seat of her bedchamber, staring out at the rain.  “Mama wants us all to be in something new, but we certainly cannot walk back into Meryton in this weather.  She was very upset that you did not return to the dressmaker’s after you spoke to Lady Catherine.  She was upset that you did not introduce them.”

“Lady Catherine would not have been good company.”  Elizabeth said quietly and lifted her head from her knees.  “We will make do with what we already have.”  Looking to her closet, she took an inventory of her gowns.  “Fortunately Mama is talented with remaking dresses, so we should manage to not disgrace our family, and I will not disgrace Mr. Darcy.   I must look worthy of him.  I must look like I belong with him.  And together we must behave as if this was . . . wanted.”

“Second thoughts?  Or are we on third or fourth now?”  Jane nudged her and was glad to see a little smile appear.  “The gossip will die.”

“Yes, in nine months when the baby is not born.”  Their eyes met and Elizabeth began sobbing again.  “Oh, Jane!”

“Oh, Lizzy.”  Jane hugged her and Elizabeth pulled away. 

“No, I know that I will be undergoing very intense scrutiny.  Mr. Bingley’s sisters certainly did not bother to hold back their thoughts yesterday, did they?  Even though they know the truth of our engagement, they will gladly fan the flames of gossip without saying anything at all incriminating.  I can see them now, nodding and making little noises, presenting sad faces for poor misguided Mr. Darcy.  And dear Mr. Bingley will not notice a thing.”

“He is a good man.”  Jane murmured.  “It was so kind of him to rise to your defence.” 

“It was kind of Mr. Hurst to speak for me as well.”  Elizabeth wiped her eyes and looked up when the shower changed into a downpour.  Water poured off the roof, and she could barely see the stable.  “Mr. Darcy will not come today; if this does not let up he will not come tomorrow either.”  She drew her knees up to her chin and rested her forehead on them.  “I do not know what I expect from him, I just . . .” Taking a breath, she tried to calm.  “I feel so lost.  I cannot bear to face this alone anymore.” 

“You are not alone, Lizzy.”  Jane hugged her.  “All of us are with you, even Mama in her way.”

“I meant . . . without him.”  She looked up in wonder as that odd realization struck her.

“What did Papa say when you visited this morning?  You were not long.”

“He apologized and said that he meant well.”  She tried to address it sensibly and grasped Jane’s hand.  “I have given this much thought since I left him.  Whatever his arrangement with Mr. Collins, it was made weeks ago.  At that time, there was surely no indication of attachment between me and Mr. Darcy; in fact it was quite the opposite from what he heard from my tongue alone.  And there was no guarantee of you with Mr. Bingley one day, either, no matter how promising it looks now.  No, if Mr. Darcy had not proposed unexpectedly, I might have been made to . . .” The tears started falling again.  “. . . marry Mr. Collins.  As much as I wished for a marriage of love and respect, Papa truly was thinking of my best interests, and those of his family.  If you had not met Mr. Collins, would you not think he would be the ideal match for a favourite child?”