Page 3 of Unwillingly Mrs. Darcy
“Think nothing of it, Cousin Elizabeth!” he assured her, his grin almost beaming. Turning back to Charlotte, he gestured for her to attend to his packing. “Come, Charlotte. We must not delay.”
Charlotte rose with her usual grace but cast an apologetic glance at Elizabeth before departing with her husband. The absence of their footsteps left an oppressive silence behind them.
Elizabeth exhaled heavily, releasing the tension coiled in her shoulders. She turned to gaze out of the window and caught sight of a carriage retreating down the winding drive. Within its plush interior, Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s turban nodded rhythmically with the uneven rocking of the vehicle. Even froma distance, the gems in her headdress captured the sunlight in dazzling flashes.
A strange thought flitted unbidden into Elizabeth’s mind—Was Mr Darcy travelling with his aunt? Her heart clenched involuntarily, though whether from irritation or some other feeling she refused to name, she could not be sure.
She shook her head, silently chastising herself for the distraction. How dare he intrude upon her thoughts now? Had she not borne enough vexation without adding Mr Darcy to her troubles?
It seemed impossible that only hours earlier, he had stood before her, presumptuous and arrogant, offering a proposal of marriage so galling that she could scarcely believe her ears. That episode alone had been enough to ruin her spirits—and yet fate had conspired to overshadow even that affront with the dire news from Longbourn.
Elizabeth straightened in her chair, pressing her palms against her lap. Now was not the time for indulgent reveries, particularly not where Mr Darcy was concerned. Her immediate duty was clear, she must prepare herself to meet whatever awaited her at home with as much fortitude as she could summon.
If Mr Collins’s insufferable company was the price she must pay for propriety’s sake, so be it. But there was a bitter comfort in the knowledge that both she and Kitty understood his true motives all too well.
“Let him posture,” she muttered to herself, rising from her seat with determination. “Whatever his schemes, they shall have no sway over us.”
Turning briskly, Elizabeth strode towards the staircase. There would be time enough for frustration and grievances later. For now, she must ready herself to return to Longbourn, to be a source of strength for Kitty, and to face whatever trials awaited them upon arrival.
***
“Well,” Mr Collins began, clasping his hands together with a self-satisfied air, “we are nearly back in Meryton. I know you must be fretting terribly, but rest assured, all will be well. The moment we arrive, I shall take charge of the estate to ensure its smooth running during my cousin’s convalescence.”
Elizabeth refrained from responding to her cousin’s presumptuous declaration. There was no need for him to take charge of anything. Longbourn was managed capably, even without a steward, her father’s capable hands ensured its proper governance. Truly, Mr Collins’s interference was neither required nor welcome.
But, of course, that was not the true purpose of his determination to involve himself. His eagerness to secure his place as the future master of Longbourn was plainly evident, an ambition that Elizabeth fervently hoped would remain unfulfilled for many years to come.
Perhaps such thoughts were unkind—indeed, even uncharitable. After all, Mr Collins was family. Surely, he did not wish for a family member’s death. Yet Elizabeth could not suppress the lingering suspicion that, in his mind, the loss of a cousin and the acquisition of an estate were neatly recorded as wholly separate matters.
She sighed, glancing towards her sisters. Kitty’s eyes were red-rimmed, her lips still trembling with suppressed sobs.
“All will be well, Kitty. It was an accident—nothing more. He will recover.”
“And we shall pray for him diligently,” Mr Collins interjected, his tone self-righteous. “I am certain your sister Mary has already undertaken such devotions. I have always known her to be a pious young woman.”
“Mama will be beside herself,” Kitty whispered, her voice barely audible as she ignored their cousin. “Her nerves… they are so fragile, even at the best of times.”
Elizabeth offered a faint smile of reassurance. “Yes, Kitty, but do not underestimate her resilience. Every time we were unwell as children, she was the most devoted nurse. She will care for Father with the same tireless affection. Despite all their quarrels, they love one another dearly. I cannot imagine one without the other.”
“Indeed,” Mr Collins replied with a grave nod. “We must all trust that matters shall improve in due course.”
As the carriage rumbled along the now-familiar roads towards Longbourn, Elizabeth found herself reflecting on her own words. She had spoken them to comfort her sister, but the anxiety swirling within her heart refused to be soothed. Try as she might, she could not dismiss the sense of foreboding that clung to her like a shadow, whispering of calamities yet to come.
Chapter 3
Darcy
25th April 1812
Darcy walked through the grove at Rosings Park, his thumb and index finger rubbing together to release some of the pent-up strain that coursed through him. A fortnight had passed since Elizabeth Bennet had issued her stern rebuke, and since she had received the dreadful news about her father. There had been no news from Meryton, and Darcy knew that, really, he should not concern himself with what happened at the Bennet family home. She had rejected him. Indeed, she had made it quite clear that she thought nothing of him.
And yet, he couldn’t help but worry. He knew William Collins well enough to understand that the moment he had a chance, he would take charge of the estate. And what would become of the Bennet women?
He might allow them to stay under his thumb, he might ask them to leave. If he did, where would they go? He shook his head. This was not his concern, he reminded himself once more.
Such things happened to families across the country every day. If a family had no son, these circumstances could happen. Indeed, he had to fault Mr Bennet for this. For while, once upon a time, entailments were almost impossible to break, they weren’t now. An involved negotiation, an exchange of money, sometimes a hefty sum, might be required but it couldbe done. And with five daughters, he had to have considered it. It was only responsible. Had he not been able to afford the cost?
Perhaps, when his wife was younger, he had still held out hope for a son. But with Jane Bennet now two-and-twenty and the youngest daughter almost the same age as Georgiana, he had to know that a son would not be forthcoming.
