Coincidence Read online

  “Oh, I will own to some surprise, Mr. Darcy. Since your uncle has come, I would have thought you would all spend a few days together before quitting the area.”

  Mr. Darcy nodded with sage agreement. “Under normal circumstances, you would be correct. However, there have been . . . developments since my uncle arrived, and there are changes on the horizon for my family. Not only will the colonel and I be departing with my uncle, but Anne will also go to town.”

  That surprised Elizabeth, as she had not thought Lady Catherine would willingly leave Rosings Park for a lengthy time, which is what Mr. Darcy’s words suggested. But when she voiced her observation, Mr. Darcy only smiled slightly and corrected her perception.

  “Lady Catherine will not accompany us to town. In fact, she is to stay at Rosings. It is at my uncle’s insistence that Anne leave Rosings, as he hopes to have her seen by several physicians in town in an attempt to improve her health.”

  “Then I am happy for her,” said Elizabeth, nodding and choosing her words with care. “It is unfortunate that she has not accompanied you. I would like to see her again and bid her farewell.”

  Smiling, Mr. Darcy said: “I think it unlikely you will not see Anne again. She has indicated a desire to continue her friendship with you.”

  “Oh,” said Elizabeth, remembering that Miss de Bourgh had said as much. Mr. Darcy’s words suggested a rift in the family, and particularly between Lady Catherine and Miss de Bourgh. Perhaps all her assumptions concerning Miss de Bourgh would prove to be false now.

  Of paramount concern, however, was Lady Catherine herself. Elizabeth was certain the lady had seen something in Mr. Darcy’s behavior toward her, and she did not wish the lady to attempt to take her frustrations out on Charlotte, or even on Elizabeth herself.

  “I hope Lady Catherine will be content without her daughter in residence. Knowing the lady, I understand enough of her character to think that she will not be happy with it, and that others might feel the effects of her frustration.”

  “I think you have little fear of that, Miss Bennet,” said Lord Matlock. He had, apparently, been keeping track of Elizabeth’s conversation with Mr. Darcy, and moved to respond to her comment. “My sister is eagerly anticipating her time by herself and I expect she will use it to indulge in solitary reflection. She has had some shocks this morning, and I cannot help but think that to be alone for a time, managing Rosings and immersing herself in the concerns of estate and parish, will be good for her.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Elizabeth noticed Mr. Collins’s jaw drop—even he was not so much of a dullard to miss the inference in Lord Matlock’s words. Elizabeth, however, ignored her cousin, and focused on the earl, grateful that he seemed to have taken his sister’s vindictive nature into account when making these new arrangements.

  “I thank you, sir,” said Elizabeth. “I hope that Miss de Bourgh is comfortable in London, and that she experiences an improvement in her health.”

  “I am certain she will. But I do not think that she will be in London long. The air is not clean in the summer, and might be a detriment to her recovery. She has mentioned that she wished to maintain her acquaintance with you. Will you be in London at all this summer?”

  “I return to London in a week,” said Elizabeth, surprised that the earl was privy to this information. “I will only be there for a short time before I return to Hertfordshire, as my father wishes for my return.”

  “Then perhaps we can arrange a meeting while you are in London.” The earl stood, prompting his younger relations to rise also. “I have been happy to make your acquaintance,” said he, his gaze roving over all the company. “But I believe we should return to the estate, as we intend an early departure tomorrow. I hope we may all meet again in the future.”

  Soon, the earl had excused himself, but whereas he and the colonel left directly, Mr. Darcy lingered for a moment. He focused his attention on Elizabeth, and bowed over her hand; Elizabeth had the distinct impression he would kiss it, but in the end, he refrained. And when he spoke, his voice was quiet, but fervent.

  “I hope we shall meet again very soon. I wish you a pleasant stay with your friends and a safe journey back to your uncle’s house.”

  And then Mr. Darcy departed, leaving Elizabeth looking after him with bemused confusion. Who was this man, and how was he affecting her? Elizabeth hardly knew. But she was beginning to sense that his interest, which she had dismissed frequently, might actually be real.

  Chapter IX

  The next morning, after the earl’s party left for London, Mr. Collins hastened to pay his respects to Lady Catherine.

  “For I am certain Lady Catherine will wish to condole with me regarding the departure of her family,” said he, assuming a pompous tone, one he had seemingly perfected. “She is ever so gracious and attentive to all the needs of her family, and as they have now departed, I am certain she feels their absence keenly. As I am particularly situated to see to her needs, I will go to her forthwith.”

  Unfortunately for the parson, it seemed like his patroness was not in need of his services. With an evident dejected countenance, he returned within half an hour of going, and Elizabeth was unsurprised to see his return.

  “Lady Catherine has secluded herself in Rosings,” said he.

  “She would not see you?” asked Charlotte with interest.

  “No.”

  Mr. Collins’s tone was so glum and forlorn that Elizabeth almost laughed to hear it. It was like the man had lost his best friend, instead of the interference of a meddling, proud, disagreeable virago. Perhaps if Charlotte used the situation to her advantage, she could induce Mr. Collins to accept her guidance, instead of always looking to Lady Catherine, and if she framed it properly, Mr. Collins would not even know he was being guided.

  “It seems she is cast down and feels the departure of her family more than I had anticipated,” said Mr. Collins. “It is a mark of her generous nature and attention to duty that she has not gone with them. I cannot imagine how the parish would manage without her graciously bestowed condescension, for her advice is sound and her words uplifting to us all.”

  Mr. Collins fell silent for several moments, and Elizabeth thought he might actually genuflect at the woman, were she only present. Given Mr. Darcy’s cryptic words when he had left the previous day, Elizabeth suspected a very different reason for Lady Catherine’s failure to depart with her relations, but she was not about to voice such suspicions to her cousin.

  For Charlotte’s part, she clearly suspected that some other force was at work, for after a moment of watching her husband, her eyes sought Elizabeth’s face, a questioning quality inherent in her gaze. And it was not long after her husband excused himself to go to his office to see to his sermon for the coming week that Charlotte began to question Elizabeth.

  “It is interesting, do you not think?” asked Charlotte. “I would have thought Lady Catherine would depart with her family rather than staying alone at Rosings.”

  “One would think,” replied Elizabeth. “But perhaps she is too attached to Rosings to wish to leave it.”

  Charlotte’s level look at Elizabeth suggested that she was not at all fooled by Elizabeth’s obfuscation. “If her daughter is to go to London to be seen by new physicians, it would seem to me she would wish to be present to oversee their efforts and hear the diagnosis.”

  “One would think,” repeated Elizabeth.

  Once again Charlotte’s eyes narrowed at Elizabeth’s refusal to confirm her conjectures, and when she spoke again, she was more than a little direct. “I distinctly recall Mr. Darcy speaking to you exclusively before they departed yesterday. Are you certain he did not say anything concerning the situation? He has been remarkably attentive to you of late.”

  It was all Elizabeth could do not to laugh at her friend’s persistence. But she was not about to elucidate Charlotte; not only had Mr. Darcy not said anything explicit, but she knew that a married woman should not keep secrets from her husband. If
Charlotte did not know of Elizabeth’s doubts, she would not be put into a position where she might be forced to speak of it to Mr. Collins.

  “I think it might be better off left alone, Charlotte,” said Elizabeth fixing her friend with a pointed look. “Allow Mr. Collins to think whatever he likes and to console Lady Catherine as best he can.”

  When Charlotte opened her mouth to speak again, Elizabeth was quick to say: “Mr. Darcy told me nothing. He simply mentioned that Anne would be going to town, and that she wished to continue her acquaintance with me. I know nothing more than you do.”

  It was clear that Charlotte did not believe her—or maybe it was more correct to say she thought she was not being told everything—but she finally allowed the matter to rest. To give her friend more opportunity to recover from her bout of curiosity, Elizabeth decided to absent herself from the Collins’s parlor in favor of a short walk on the grounds of the parsonage. If Charlotte watched her with speculation for the rest of the day, Elizabeth ignored her with tolerable ease. At length, Charlotte ceased even that.

  Thus, for the last week of Elizabeth’s stay at the parsonage, there were no engagements at Rosings, and while Mr. Collins continued to fret and worry over Lady Catherine’s refusal to see him, Elizabeth found herself relieved. She had come to Kent, after all, to visit with her friend, and their frequent invitations to Rosings had been a disruption. With Lady Catherine removed from their society, Elizabeth found herself able to focus more of her attention on Charlotte, and they passed a peaceful and happy week between them.

  Another benefit of Mr. Darcy’s absence was the resumption of her uninterrupted daily walks on Rosings’ grounds—it was refreshing to be able to walk without wondering when the man would show his face to confound her.

  Of course, she was surprised when she found that to a certain extent she actually missed meeting with Mr. Darcy, despite her relief at not having to put up with his presence. He was, she was forced to reflect, an intelligent man, learned and interesting, once he put his customary reticence aside and spoke. In fact, Elizabeth thought the man could be an agreeable companion, if his pride could only be brought under better regulation.

  In this manner, Elizabeth passed her last week in Kent, and soon the time for her return to London was approaching. Not knowing when she would see her friend again, it made for a tearful farewell, but Elizabeth was happy to be leaving. Her time in Kent had been far more confusing than she had thought. A return to her home could only assist her state of mind.

  Having become used to the presence of Miss Elizabeth Bennet, Darcy found the days between his removal to town and Elizabeth’s return to be interminable. For the first two days, he immersed himself in his own business, which, of a necessity, had been pushed to the side in favor of focusing on the many problems at Rosings. But even those matters were dealt with quickly, and soon Darcy found himself more at leisure. Of course, that was when thoughts of her arose.

  He remembered the light of the sun striking her hair on a sunny morning, the beautiful mahogany color dancing with red and gold highlights, making her crown sparkle and glow. He remembered her laugh, the pure, clear sound which reminded him of the ringing of a bell, bringing joy to everyone who was near enough to hear it. He remembered her kindness, the way she endeavored wherever possible to be welcoming to Anne, to make her comfortable, where no one could have blamed her for being aloof, given Lady Catherine’s behavior. And most of all, he remembered what it was like to speak with her, to bask in her attention, to marvel at the intelligence she showed and the archness of her humor which was sometimes sharp, but never cutting.

  The woman was driving Darcy to distraction, and even more because he knew that she still did not precisely like him. It was clear that she had become more accepting of him, had learned to appreciate him a little more than she had before, but he still did not think she had progressed to the point where she approved of him. And such approval was the first step on the road to eventually gaining her love. And by now Darcy realized that he wished for her love; to love her was not enough—the bliss of having his love returned would be sublime.

  “Cheer up, Darcy,” said Fitzwilliam, two nights after they had returned. His cousin had come for dinner, and after Georgiana had retired, they had ensconced themselves in his study for a nightcap. “In less than a week your Miss Bennet will be in London, and you may continue your wooing.”

  Taking a sip of his drink to hide his grimace, Darcy decided against making any response. He did not think that his cousin had noted Miss Bennet’s dislike, but he would not illuminate Fitzwilliam, lest he make himself a target for his cousin’s teasing.

  “You do mean to call on her, do you not?”

  “Oh, indeed,” said Darcy, though he was not quite certain how he should go about doing it. Knowing, as he did, her opinion of him, he did not wish to put her in a position of being embarrassed by his coming. The image of a male Mrs. Bennet—his picture of the woman’s brother—screeching over his niece’s good fortune, entered Darcy’s mind, and while he hoped a man of business would not be as bad as a vapid gentleman’s wife, he could not imagine her uncle would be tolerable.

  But then again, arranging frequent coincidences would be much more difficult. Somehow, he had to find a way to be in her company, through coincidence or other means, without raising her suspicions. If he was to have any hope of achieving his goal of gaining her love, there was no other option. The mechanics of the situation still eluded him, however.

  “You do not sound like you are anticipating the event to any great extent.”

  Darcy shot a glance at his cousin, then looked back at his glass; he had almost forgotten Fitzwilliam was even there. “I am without a doubt. I am simply attempting to divine the best approach.”

  “I would advise you that the infamous Darcy glare of disdain will not earn her regard.”

  An annoyed glare was Darcy’s response, but Fitzwilliam only favored him with an indifferent shrug, followed up by a grin.

  “Can it be all that complicated?” asked Fitzwilliam, taking another swig of his drink. “Flatter her, make love to her, but whatever you do, treat her as the intelligent woman she is.”

  “I believe the third would be efficacious, but the first would insult her, and the second, I would likely perform so badly that she would think me constipated.”

  A hearty guffaw escaped Fitzwilliam’s lips. “She might, at that. She is the most unpretentious young lady I have ever met.”

  “She is at that,” responded Darcy.

  “Then just allow your true self to shine through. She can hardly resist an intelligent, attractive, wealthy man, who treats her like an equal.”

  Long after Fitzwilliam departed, Darcy thought on his words, and he considered just what it would take to win Miss Bennet’s regard. Intelligence would be a boon, and he did not think his looks would do him any harm. Wealth he thought she would consider with indifference—she would wish to be cared for, but he thought she would be equally content to be a parson’s wife, as she would be as his own. She would look more to the person than to the circumstances, and she struck him as a romantic, who would wish to love her husband, rather than love his situation—she was no Miss Bingley. In that, perhaps, they were a perfect match.

  It was the last part of Fitzwilliam’s advice that caught Darcy’s attention. She was an independent woman, one who knew her own mind, as she had shown amply in the time he had known her. She would not be taken in by words of flattery, or by a man who proposed to provide her with protection throughout the course of her life. She was intelligent enough to know that she would be signing her protection over to a man, but that did not mean she would wish for him to manage every detail of her life. In fact, she would wish to be made an equal partner in a marriage.

  In the day in which they lived, it was unusual for a woman to have such an expectation, but Darcy knew that he could provide it to her. He could not imagine wedding such an intelligent woman and then not treating her like the rational
creature she was. This insight made Darcy feel a little better about the situation. There was still a long way to go, but he felt that he had taken several important steps along the way.

  It was fortunate that Darcy had other matters to occupy him in those days, or he thought he might have become maudlin, pining after Miss Bennet at all hours of the day. Anne’s arrival in town had made her the focus of their attention. Georgiana, in particular, had taken to her older cousin, and the two of them—along with the earl’s two daughters—had become almost inseparable, with Georgiana moving to the earl’s townhouse within a few days of Anne’s arrival. Though the two had never truly had an opportunity to become close, those days after Anne’s coming to London they more than made up for wasted time.

  Several doctors had been summoned to examine Anne and give their opinions, and Anne was forced to put up with being poked and prodded, having them listen to her breathing, or test her reflexes, among other things. She put up with it all with good grace, a skill, no doubt, acquired due to her life with a domineering mother. After all was said and done, they had reasonable cause to hope that she would regain her health.

  “I have half a mind to go back to Rosings and give Catherine a piece of my mind,” said the earl, one day when they were together at the earl’s townhouse.

  “The doctors’ diagnoses?” asked Darcy.

  His uncle only nodded in a clipped fashion, the scowl never leaving his face. “They have come to the consensus that all Anne truly requires is a better diet and more exercise.”

  Darcy frowned. “Surely that cannot be all that ails her.”

  “She will never be of a robust constitution,” said Fitzwilliam, who sat nearby. “But she is not an invalid. You know the type of fatty, rich food Lady Catherine prefers.” Darcy nodded, knowing full well, given his yearly visits. “The doctors wish her to eat healthier, a wider variety of vegetables and grains. They have also stated that walking, or any exercise at all, would be beneficial to strengthening her.”