Accusing Elizabeth Read online

  Aunt Catherine scoffed. “What does love have to do with marriage? You ought not place such importance on that fickle emotion. How many men have you known to marry for love who, after the passing of the years, can say with impunity that they still have affection for their wives?” She pointed her sharp nail at him. “I can guarantee you that the majority of them have taken on a mistress.”

  Darcy tensed in revulsion, but his pulse quieted slightly in relief. He had successfully changed the subject. Before she could continue in more detail, he cut in. “When I marry, I intend to be loyal to my wife because I love her. Though the examples in our family would attempt to prove otherwise, I believe my expectations to be realistic.”

  That brought a gasp from his aunt and he heard Richard suck in air through his teeth next to him.

  Now that the insinuation of Sir Lewis de Bourgh’s infidelities had been made, there was nothing left but to continue. “I know that a good marriage requires effort from both the man and the woman. When I find a lady whom I am willing to work for as hard as I must to ensure her happiness, a lady whom I am confident will value our love as much as I do by proving herself loyal, then she is the lady who will receive my proposal of marriage and my undying affection.” A lady like Miss Elizabeth. No, not like her. Only her.

  Aunt Catherine leveled her head and spoke through gritted teeth. “I thank you not to speak of the dead. Lewis was an exemplary husband and his sins, if indeed he had any, were washed away on his passing. He in no way acted contrary to the habits of most gentlemen in his position.”

  Darcy trod on dangerous ground, so chose his words carefully. “I cannot accept what others do as the norm by which I will live. The values I choose to live by form my very character, and I would no sooner lower them than lose all sense of respect in myself.”

  “What of your position in society? You have many responsibilities incumbent on you as one born into wealth, property, and prestige. You speak freely about honor and values. What of all the people who depend on you for their living? They hold high expectations for you too. Anne is suited to take on the role of the Mistress of Pemberley. She was bred for it.”

  Looking at Anne slumped over on the couch, Mrs. Jenkinson fanning her face, Darcy doubted that.

  “I have no doubt but that Anne will make a suitable wife for a gentleman who will care for her and nurture her. As you recently said, I have too many responsibilities which would not suit her needs.”

  Aunt Catherine scrutinized him through the slits of her eyelids. “Is there someone else?” she repeated, to his chagrin.

  He could not lie. Disguise of any sort was despicable to him, but he could not unleash Aunt Catherine’s fury against Miss Elizabeth.

  “Were I to share information of such an intimate nature, I would do so only with Georgiana. She is the one to be most affected by it, and it is of no one else’s concern.”

  “Have you written to her of anyone in particular?” Aunt Catherine pressed, her nostrils flared and her eyes calculated. She knew him too well. Any flinch or hesitation would be noted by her and used against him in future conversations. She would find out somehow who his heart desired.

  Putting on his coolest expression, the same one he used to discourage fortune-seeking mothers at balls and assemblies, he said, “I am through speaking of matters on which you have no authority over me. Now, if you will excuse me, I have some letters to see to in my room.”

  Leaning back against her chair, her claws retracted from the padded arm, Aunt Catherine inclined her head toward him with an arched brow. She conceded his wish for the moment, but he knew all too well that he would render account for it.

  He reached the door when she spoke again. He ought to have known she would want the last word. “You will marry Anne,” she hissed from between her teeth.

  He turned back to the room to see Anne start to rise, but Mrs. Jenkinson clasped her hands and pulled her down, shaking her head.

  “I do not love Anne, and she has given me no indication that she loves me. Why should we be forced to marry against our will? Ours would be a miserable union.” It was the same argument over again. How many times would he have to repeat the same?

  Aunt Catherine scoffed. “People do not marry for love. If that is what you wish for, you will die single. Do not think for one moment that you could ever find love. With your fortune and social status, it would be impossible to find a young lady uninfluenced by the name Darcy.”

  He had found one. Her refusal only confirmed her honest nature and heightened his admiration.

  “If I am to be punished for my money, then I would rather not have so much of it.”

  Aunt Catherine’s eyes widened, and her small pupils stared daggers at him. “That is an utterly selfish comment to make. Too many people depend on your income to live. Would you deny them their living as easily as you deny Anne her dignity? Your engagement is as legally binding as a contract.”

  “A contract which neither Anne nor I entered,” he said, controlling himself to not throw his hands up in the air as he wished to do at her repeated, stubborn insistence for her vain demand.

  “You would see your cousin suffer the scrutiny and gossip of society only to see how impossible your fantasy of love is? She would be ostracized.”

  Darcy stood his ground, but his voice softened. “I would never intentionally cause any discomfort to Anne.”

  “Then you must honor the agreement I made with your mother and marry her before summer. Mr. Collins will read the banns.”

  “I cannot agree.”

  “That is what you say now. I trust that you will see reason.”

  With that, she turned her head, thus dismissing him, and engaged Mrs. Jenkinson in conversation.

  The two elderly women spoke in a sanguine tone, as if nothing was untoward, although Mrs. Jenkinson had the decency to look guilty at overhearing their heated exchange. Anne’s eyes glistened as she met his glance, but she was being watched. She could say nothing.

  Richard stood from his chair to follow Darcy out of the room. His departure went largely unacknowledged.

  With a curt bow, Darcy retreated from the room, feeling as if he had been squeezed in a vice.

  Heading toward the hall, he turned to Richard. “We need to talk,” he said, without breaking his stride.

  He did not stop until he had reached the stables where the grooms bustled about to ready two horses as soon as they saw them coming. Darcy was happy not to have to give orders. He wanted to focus his full attention on his blasted cousin.

  “Richard, is there any reason keeping us here? Is your business with Aunt Catherine complete?” he asked, hearing the sharpness in his own voice. He took a deep breath and tried to relax his shoulders. His quarrel was with Aunt Catherine and his own internal struggle to act more like a gentleman and less like the brute he had been at the Meryton Assembly.

  “After your pretty conversation with Aunt Catherine, I wonder why you persist in being in such a hurry. Her pride would not let you leave with the upper hand, but your jab against Uncle Lewis should keep her quiet for a day or so.” Chuckling and shaking his head, he said, “I cannot believe you made reference to his final hours.”

  Darcy shrugged. “It was his own fault that he died in the loving arms of someone else. That she had been hired as his nurse to give some justification to his treachery is something even Aunt Catherine cannot easily delude herself over.”

  “It took a lot of nerve to say, nonetheless.”

  “I see no reason why. Everyone in the room knew of it. Were there strangers amongst us, I would have kept my silence. However, it proved my point, and so I spoke. I will not be that kind of husband, and it disgusts me that Aunt Catherine would allow that sort of treatment to her own daughter.”

  Richard crossed his arms, his face serious. “I cannot find fault with that, Darcy. But I could not help but notice how smoothly you evaded her question.” He bunched his eyebrows together and leaned forward. “Are you in love?”


  Darcy gave him such a look as to squelch his meddlesome inquiries.

  With a cackle, Richard leaned back and slapped his hand against his thigh. “Imagine that!”

  “Imagine what? I have revealed nothing but distaste for your intrusive prying.”

  “You pride yourself on your ability to hide your reactions, but you lost your calm. There is such a look in your eye and a restlessness in your manner that I recognize all too well.”

  Darcy wanted nothing more than to wipe the smirk off Richard’s self-congratulatory face.

  Damned no matter what he said, Darcy kept quiet and did his best to keep his gaze steady until the horses were ready. That would give him an excuse to look away. Where was the stable boy? How long did it take to saddle his mount?

  Richard smacked Darcy’s shoulder. “Fear not, my friend. I would no sooner betray you than you would me. Of course, you know I will make it my mission to find out who has caught your eye. It would be no small feat to win your heart. She must be quite the lady, and I hope to meet her someday.”

  “She would not have me anyway… even if I were to ask.” Darcy was not ready to accept, much less admit to anyone else, that Miss Elizabeth would not agree to marry him. He cursed himself for saying too much, but for a moment, the need to confide in someone had been too great to resist completely.

  Richard paused, holding his breath, looking intently at Darcy.

  Darcy leaned against the entry to the stall and crossed one foot over the other in his best imitation at nonchalance. He knew he had failed when Richard burst out laughing.

  Between outbursts, he said, “I will not ask because I know you will not tell me until you are well and ready. But this does shed a new light on the meaning of certain events. Is she why you insisted that we have our annual visit to Rosings two months early? Is she here?”

  Darcy jutted his chin out and bit his lips together. The less he told Richard, the better. It had been a simple thing to learn that Miss Elizabeth was visiting her best friend, the newly established Mrs. Collins, at Hunsford parsonage. The casual opportunity it afforded Darcy looked coincidental, when in reality, it had been anything but a fortunate happenstance.

  Richard laughed so hard, the horses the boy brought to them pranced at his excitement. “You do beat all. And here, I thought that my news would startle Aunt Catherine. You have not told her, have you?… No, what a foolish question. Of course you have not. All of Kent would have heard the threats and screams coming from her drawing room. Today’s squabble would be nothing compared to the wrath she would impale you with if she believed your affections otherwise engaged.”

  Something Richard said piqued his interest. “You have news? What news?” By God, anything to change the subject!

  “I see no need to share my news with you if you are unwilling to confess that you were refused by your mysterious maiden. Oh, how I would love to hear how that happened!”

  Not for the first time did Darcy wish he had some of the charm and easy manners his cousin possessed. There was no doubt in his mind that, in a competition of character, he would come out the loser. Especially if Miss Elizabeth was the judge.

  No, he needed to rally his thoughts. He needed to find a way to turn her opinion of him around, for he would never find another woman her equal. He was already hers. She only needed convincing that he was worth having.

  “Do your plans, whatever they are, still require our prolonged stay? Aunt Catherine is unbearable.” He held his breath, hoping Richard would change his mind. They could leave that same afternoon. He could trust the butler to see his letter discreetly to Miss Elizabeth through the maid. The distance would clear his mind, Aunt Catherine’s threats would fade in their intensity, and he could decide how best to change Miss Elizabeth’s mind about him. They could make it to London by nightfall if they left soon.

  “I am sorry to disappoint you, Darcy, but it is impossible. You are not the only one in a bind,” said Richard as he mounted his horse and took off across the yard.

  What worries could Richard possibly have? Why did he believe Aunt Catherine would assist him?

  Chapter 5

  Elizabeth looked at the view outside her bedroom window at the back of the house, overlooking the orchard. Unlike her home at Longbourn, the grounds at Rosings were well maintained and cared for. Mr. Collins, feeling it his duty to emulate everything deemed important by Lady Catherine, took pains to ensure that not a blade of grass was out of place at his home lest it reflect poorly on his patroness. Charlotte ensured he had plenty to keep him occupied: bees, poultry, the pig, his rosebushes in the carefully cultivated garden, and his orchard brimming with fruit trees.

  A light knock at her door, followed by the entry of Maria, brought her thoughts back to the present.

  “Are you feeling better?” Elizabeth asked, as Maria plopped herself down on the chair at the foot of the bed.

  “Well enough, thank you.”

  Elizabeth had been thinking about Jane, wasting away in London, waiting for Bingley to call when Elizabeth knew that he would not go against the advice of his most-trusted friend. Blast Mr. Darcy and his presumptuous interference! The disappointment she felt for her sister broke her heart. Several times in her dreams, she cursed Mr. Darcy’s arrogance. How dare he interfere with the happiness of her most beloved sister!

  “I wonder why Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Darcy have not called lately,” said Maria with a pout.

  “It has only been two days since their last call,” she said, trying not to recall Mr. Darcy’s visit the day before.

  “Yes, but they had been coming almost every day between the two of them. Could it be that they have grown tired of our company? I know that I am not very interesting, and hardly manage to speak at all when they do call.” Maria picked at a loose thread on the blanket she sat on.

  Elizabeth struggled to keep her composure. She was relieved that Mr. Darcy had not attempted to call again. Of course, after her stern refusal, he had every reason to avoid her as much as she avoided him. She had seen him deviate from the path to avoid meeting them that morning on their walk into Hunsford and had been grateful. Aside from their obligatory invitations to Rosings, she hoped never to lay eyes on the man again.

  “Perhaps they have departed.” One could hope.

  “Without so much as a farewell? No, they are too mannerly for that.”

  Elizabeth bit her cheeks. “I, for one, intend to spend the remainder of our visit enjoying the serenity the grounds at Rosings offer. Never in my life have I seen such an immaculately kept park, and I plan to walk in it every day until we leave in a week’s time.”

  Maria slumped in her chair. “How I do wish we could stay longer.”

  Aside from Mr. Darcy’s unwanted proposal, Elizabeth had surprisingly enjoyed her time. Charlotte was content in her home, and the surroundings were a welcome change to Longbourn.

  “I am certain your sister will welcome frequent visits, and the distance is not so great that your parents would forbid it. Take heart, Maria.”

  “It is just that… Mother and Father watch my every move at home. It has been refreshing to experience the freedom other girls my age enjoy.”

  “So long as you do not abuse your freedom, their trust in you will grow. That is how it normally works.” Not so in the Bennet family. Her younger sisters were afforded freedoms they should not be allowed. Elizabeth felt guilty that perhaps her sisters were the reason Maria’s father, Sir William, kept such a tight hold on her.

  “I can only hope. But we do have another week here, and I plan to use my time wisely. Lady Catherine has invited Charlotte, and has been gracious enough to include us, to practice the pianoforte at Rosings. Today, I intend to go.”

  It appeared that Elizabeth would be walking alone then. Only, the girl sat fixed in place, looking expectantly at her.

  Not knowing what she was supposed to say, Elizabeth ventured, “Very good. Perhaps you shall play for everyone after dinner tonight.”

  The exciteme
nt in Maria’s eyes told her that was precisely what she hoped for.

  “Please come with me.”

  Elizabeth wanted to kick the floor and grimace like a fractious toddler, but she contained herself. It was bad enough that she had to endure a dinner there that night. She could not beg off with a headache twice in a row, though her temples already ached.

  “You should ask Charlotte. It would make Lady Catherine happy for Charlotte to take her advice.” Advice which she gave freely and exaggeratedly.

  “Charlotte is going into the village today with Mr. Collins to visit some of the families in their parish. She invited me along, but I would much rather spend my time at Rosings.”

  “And you feel that you must go today? You could not wait until tomorrow when Charlotte could accompany you?” Elizabeth held her breath. It was her last argument.

  “Dinner is tonight, and I should like to practice beforehand. You were asked to play last time, and I am certain that tonight I shall be asked. It would be embarrassing to stumble over the keys for lack of practice, especially when her ladyship was so insistent that we use the pianoforte in Mrs. Jenkinson’s room.”

  Maria looked up at her with large, pleading, brown eyes. “Please?” she asked.

  Elizabeth could not disappoint her. “Very well. I admit to being curious to see the rest of the house. We shall catch glimpses of the rooms so that we can report to our families of the fineries we saw whilst here.” It was not in her nature to despair, though there were times she wished life would deal her a kinder hand.

  They readied themselves, changing into their best dresses lest they cast a shadow on the opulence of Rosings with a sullied hem or simple gown.

  Soon enough, and much too soon for Elizabeth’s taste, they were following a maid up to Mrs. Jenkinson’s room.

  Elizabeth had not been upstairs before and took advantage of the prospect to take in her new surroundings. The number of windows in the house, and the excellent positioning of the building itself, lit up the interior with sunlight. Baroque paintings covered the walls with mythological creatures in rich colors and bold tones. Father would love this house, with the many philosophical opportunities it afforded. Elizabeth preferred simple elegance over gaudy luxury. Ascending the stairs to the private rooms, Elizabeth could not shake the sensation that the painted figures watched her. In a corner, a fat cupid pointed an arrow in her direction. She skipped up the last two steps to get out of its way.