Page 9 of Unwillingly Mrs. Darcy
Madam,
Your latest attempt to force my hand exceeds all bounds of decency and decorum. That you would publish a fraudulent announcement of my marriage without my knowledge or consent is not only a grievous insult to me, but an affront to truth itself. I will not be complicit in this dishonourablecharade. You have jeopardised my good name and that of Miss de Bourgh by such reckless presumption.
I demand that you publicly retract this announcement immediately, else I shall be compelled to take steps to set the record straight, no matter how uncomfortable they might prove for you. Your conduct is unbecoming, madam, and does no credit to the noble house you claim to serve.
F. Darcy
Darcy’s fury drove him on, nearly blotting another word when a knock on the study door interrupted him.
“Sir,” Jones began with clear hesitation, “Mr Beecham has arrived and wishes to offer his congratulations.”
Darcy slammed his pen down. And so it began. Mr Beecham, his godfather, was usually a welcome guest. However, on this day Darcy wished to see nobody—certainly not until he had sorted out this disaster. He would have to publish a retraction. Of course, that would harm Anne greatly. But he had to do something. Otherwise Beecham would be the first of many.
“Send him away, Jones. Tell him I am indisposed—and do not admit any other visitors.”
“Yes, sir,” his butler replied, retreating swiftly.
Alone once more, Darcy pressed his head into his hands, the frustration was overwhelming. This was nothing short of a disaster. The wheels of rumour were already turning, and he could only imagine what the next days would bring.
How could his aunt’s brazen tactics be undone without leaving reputations—his and Anne’s—in tatters? For the first time in many years, Darcy felt completely outmanoeuvred.
Chapter 6
Elizabeth
12th May 1812
Longbourn was infused with an oppressive silence, the kind that Elizabeth felt in her chest as much as she heard with her ears.
She sat by the fire, her hands folded tightly in her lap. Across from her, Jane absent-mindedly worked on a piece of embroidery, her usual serenity replaced with a subdued melancholy. Kitty shifted irritably on the sofa, while Mary sat straight-backed in her chair, her hands neatly resting atop a book, though she hadn’t opened it.
It was Elizabeth who finally broke the quiet. “We must face it—Papa’s condition is unlikely to improve soon, if at all. Mr Collins will not be here forever, and I can limit the damage he is doing for now, but if things get worse… If Papa doesn’t improve…”
“Or if the worst were to happen,” Mary said, speaking out loud what they were all thinking but none dared to say.
“It won’t,” Kitty protested.
“You cannot know that,” Mary fired back. Jane sighed and raised her hands.
“Let us not quarrel, please. It is wise to talk about the options open to us, for we do not know what tomorrow will bring. Father may well recover fully. Uncle Gardiner has founda physician from Edinburgh who is in Town at the moment to see to a patient, and he will come here for a consultation on his return to Scotland. All may yet be well. But if it is not, then we must see what can be done. Do you agree, Lizzy?”
Elizabeth nodded. “Indeed, we must be prepared. We all hope and pray for Father’s recovery but even if he gets better it will take time, and the estate might struggle. I do not wish to burden Mother more than is necessary but if it comes to it, we may need to explore…” she paused, hating the words before they left her lips, “alternative means to support ourselves. Especially if Mr Collins were to be Master of Longbourn.”
Kitty looked up sharply. “Alternative? What do you mean?”
“I mean,” Elizabeth said gently, “that we might have to consider earning our own living. Seeking employment. We ought to consider it now, so that we can be prepared.”
The words hung in the air like a black cloud. Mary, predictably, was the first to react, her tone clipped. “I doubt any of us has the skills required to support ourselves respectably in such a manner.”
Elizabeth allowed herself a grim smile. “Perhaps not, but necessity doesn’t often ask if we are prepared, does it?”
“Besides, we all know how to sew,” Mary said. “And I can teach music.”
“You? Teach?
Kitty leapt to her feet. “We wouldn’t even be talking about this if Mr Bingley had done what everyone thought he would and married Jane!”
The accusation was sharp enough to pierce even Jane’s enduring composure. Her face turned crimson as she glanced at Elizabeth in mute appeal.
