Coincidence Page 2

“You do not suspect this steward of embezzling, do you?” asked Fitzwilliam, a frown coming over his face.

  “No,” replied Darcy. Fitzwilliam remembered as well as Darcy did the discovery of the previous man’s betrayal. The search for a new steward had taken them some weeks, extending their stay at Rosings. Fitzwilliam was no more eager to be stuck at Rosings longer than required than was Darcy. “I believe we chose properly with Mr. Cochrane, though Lady Catherine complains about the man incessantly.”

  “That is a relief,” said his cousin with feeling.

  “My point simply is that Rosings is rotting, and it is largely our aunt’s doing. Something must be done to protect Anne’s inheritance, but Lady Catherine controls the estate, and even your father can do nothing. Anne will be five and twenty in only a few months, but what will she inherit? And will she have the wherewithal to assert her authority?”

  The only response from his companion was a huff. None of them had any illusions concerning Anne’s strength. There was little doubt in Darcy’s mind that Lady Catherine would continue to dominate her daughter until she was cold in her grave.

  “We shall have to consider it while we are here,” said Fitzwilliam.

  For now, however, the appearance of the parsonage necessitated the cessation of their conversation, and though Darcy was troubled by all they had just discussed, an anticipation of seeing Miss Bennet again forced those thoughts out of his mind. They rang the bell, and a maid soon came to the door, inviting them into the house with the news that the mistress was in her sitting-room with her sister and friend, while the master was in his study and could be summoned. Darcy was not eager to be in company with the sycophantic fool, but politeness dictated his agreement.

  They were led into the indicated room, decorated with a sort of garish wallpaper which had no doubt been recommended—commanded—by Lady Catherine. Still, the arrangement of the furniture, the shades over the windows, and the room itself was pleasing, though it was small, unsurprising in a house of this size.

  All these things passed through Darcy’s mind in an instant, but he knew it was only a distraction from the thought of seeing her again. On their entrance, the three ladies stood, Mrs. Collins, as calm and practical as he remembered, though now wearing a lace cap to indicate her position, and her younger sister, blond of hair and lighter of skin, an attractive girl, though Darcy had not ever really looked at her before.

  It was the third lady who immediately commanded all of Darcy’s attention, as she stood quite near her friend, her muslin dress the color of the sun shining in an open window, her hair done up in an elegant, though simple fashion, and her eyes—those glorious eyes!—watching him from between lustrous lashes and a face with perfectly formed cheekbones, a beautiful complexion, and full, pert lips, begging to be kissed. As he gazed at her, Darcy wondered how she could possibly appear even more magnificent than he remembered.

  The sound of a clearing throat behind him alerted Darcy to the fact that he had stood still for a few moments, and he stepped into the room, directing his comments toward Mrs. Collins, as was proper.

  “Mrs. Collins. I am happy to make your acquaintance again.”

  The woman curtseyed graciously, an action mirrored by her two companions, and said: “I thank you for visiting us with such alacrity, Mr. Darcy. I could not have imagined that you would be so prompt.”

  “Indeed, we are all eternally grateful for your graciously bestowed condescension.”

  Turning, Darcy noted the entrance of Mr. Collins, the author of the words which seemed more than usually ingratiating. Darcy had almost forgotten exactly how toadying the man could be.

  It was necessary for Darcy’s equanimity to attempt to ignore what Mr. Collins was saying, and as he was certain there was little of substance, and much of flattery, he felt free to listen to less than one word in five. Mrs. Collins, it seemed, was not embarrassed by her husband’s display, and if Darcy was to guess, he thought the woman had wisely decided not to see or hear when the man made a fool of himself, a circumstance which was, no doubt, frequent. Miss Lucas barely seemed to possess the courage to do anything other than look down at her clasped hands, while Miss Bennet looked on her cousin with a sort of exasperated amusement.

  Though it took several moments, Mr. Collins’s comments finally wound down and the introductions between his cousin and the rest of the party took place, and they all sat down to visit, while Mrs. Collins called for tea. Fitzwilliam, as was his custom, spoke with ease and confidence to the party, though after a time, he settled next to Miss Bennet and began to speak with her in earnest. Darcy watched, feeling a little annoyed at the display of his cousin’s easy manners, and even more so because he was forced to endure the continued chatter of Mr. Collins.

  After some time, Mrs. Collins seemed to decide that he had tolerated enough of Mr. Collins, and she spoke, during one of her husband’s infrequent pauses.

  “I understand you visit your aunt every year, Mr. Darcy. Do you mean to stay long?”

  His thoughts focused on how much force it would take to silence Mr. Collins as they were, Darcy was startled when she spoke. But he soon recovered and favored the woman with a brief smile. “Yes, Fitzwilliam and I come almost every year. Though our plans are never completely fixed, we usually stay about two weeks.”

  “That is most excellent, sir!” enthused Mr. Collins, apparently unwilling to relinquish control over the conversation. “Your presence is most welcome, and I am certain that your aunt and your fair cousin are most pleased to have you visit them. Though Lady Catherine is eminently capable of managing her own affairs, I cannot but think that she welcomes whatever advice you are able to impart.”

  You suppose wrong, Mr. Collins, thought Darcy, as his mind roamed back to his conversation with Fitzwilliam. If only the woman did put more stock in his advice, instead of stubbornly asserting she knew what was best, the estate would be much better off.

  “We are quite happy to visit our relations,” was all Darcy said.

  “Lady Catherine is quite competent,” said Fitzwilliam, his face displaying only barely concealed laughter. “But we may all accept some counsel, can we not?”

  The man agreed readily, and Darcy thought, with a cynical bent, that Mr. Collins almost certainly never even put on his socks in the morning without first consulting Lady Catherine.

  “I must say I am happy to make your acquaintance, Miss Bennet. Perhaps these weeks at Rosings will be less dull than they usually are.”

  Though it was perhaps not quite proper, Darcy listened eagerly to Miss Bennet’s conversation with Fitzwilliam, ignoring Mr. Collins’s droning voice.

  “Can it be true?” asked Miss Bennet, her eyebrow raising in mock surprise. “I am shocked you could claim to be bored at Rosings Park. I rather thought your aunt would forbid boredom from her estate, with every expectation of being obeyed!”

  Fitzwilliam laughed, and Darcy was forced to suppress a smile himself. Though the woman’s words could be taken as critical of a relation, Darcy knew that she meant no harm by them. Indeed, her playful way of speaking rendered her sometimes satirical observations to be more amusing than censuring. It was a talent, and one of those he found utterly captivating.

  “And you would be correct,” replied Fitzwilliam. “But I must own that what my aunt finds interesting rarely corresponds with my opinion.”

  “I must attribute that to you being a man, Colonel Fitzwilliam. Gentlemen are not interested in discussing lace, fashions, gossip, and all those other things which occupy a lady’s time.”

  A shocked glance was followed by an exclaimed: “You have spoken to Lady Catherine about such things? I never knew she took any interest in them.”

  They laughed together again. “Perhaps we have not. But I expect that it is what your aunt and cousin talk about when they are alone together. I have never known any other lady to avoid such subject for long, particularly when there is little else of which to speak.”

  Darcy’s annoyance was once aga
in pricked at the smile his cousin directed at Miss Bennet. Fitzwilliam was charmed, Darcy could tell, as was Darcy himself. There was little hope any man had of not being charmed by such a woman. She was so much . . . more than any other woman Darcy had ever met.

  They spoke on for a few moments, and though Darcy listened to them with half an ear, he was also imagining what it would be like to have this woman as a companion every day and night, to have her smiles and laughter directed at him, to share confidences and their different views of some literature they had read, or some bit of news of interest to them both. Though he had determined he would not fall to her siren call, that resolve was now forgotten when he was in range of her magnetic allure.

  But then, though Darcy almost missed it, he heard her say something which drastically changed his perception of her, and his relationship with her, such as it was. They were speaking of some matter or another, and after the fact, Darcy would not even be able to say that he remembered what it was. He had been watching them, when he saw her note his scrutiny.

  “I see your cousin is up to his old tricks, Colonel Fitzwilliam.”

  Fitzwilliam seemed as puzzled as Darcy felt himself. “Darcy? Up to tricks? Surely not!”

  “It was the same in Hertfordshire,” said Miss Bennet, her smile disarming as it always was. “He looks at me a great deal, and given the beginnings of our acquaintance, I am certain he finds some fault with me.” The woman turned an arched frown on Darcy, before looking again at the colonel. “Tell me, sir—do is my out of place? Or perhaps I spilled some tea on my dress? I hope that it is something like that, rather than simply a man finding a woman intolerably plain, or even ill-favored.”

  “Certainly not, Miss Bennet!” exclaimed the colonel, voicing Darcy’s own opinion. “A man does not look with such intensity upon a woman he finds repulsive. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

  In the confines of his mind, Darcy applauded Fitzwilliam’s words, while he wondered why she thought that of him. Did she truly think his opinion of her was so poor? After his complete inability to keep his eyes off her, he would have thought the exact opposite!

  “In fact,” said Fitzwilliam, “I cannot see that Darcy looks upon you with disfavor at all. He is fiendishly difficult to read at times, but I know him better than most, and I can tell you that his looks are not those of disdain.”

  In that moment, Miss Bennet looked directly at Darcy, and as he was giving the appearance of listening to Collins prattle on, he thought she would not realize he was listening in on her conversation.

  “I must take your word for it, Colonel Fitzwilliam. But Mr. Darcy and I have never been the best of friends, and I am certain that he wishes I was not even present.”

  Shocked as he was by her words, Darcy caught an underlying meaning in them, one which he did not think Fitzwilliam understood. It was clear that the woman absolutely loathed him! The revelation almost made Darcy gasp.

  At first, he did not know what to think. What could he have done to inspire such antipathy? Then he realized that it was well that he had overheard her and understood this about her. Her forthright nature was such that he did not think she would accept him because of his status or wealth, if he had actually lost his mind and proposed to her. She would not hold back her opinion in such a situation, which would lead to an even greater and more humiliating scene.

  Though Darcy barely understood his own feelings on the matter, he could only be grateful he had been prevented from making a serious mistake.

  Chapter II

  Choosing a course of action is a different matter from putting said choice into practice, and never had Darcy felt that truism more keenly than in the days after his realization of Miss Bennet’s true feelings.

  Whenever Darcy was in residence at Rosings he was required to waste an inordinate amount of time smoothing ruffled feathers, particularly of the tenants, whose concerns were almost never met by his aunt. As he and Fitzwilliam had often discussed, Lady Catherine seemed to think that the lower classes existed for nothing more than her pleasure, and their worries were nothing more than the expression of a discontented populace. Darcy would meet with them all, attempting to assist them as much as he was able, and some of the more critical issues he dealt with by the simple expedient of insisting that they be done. His aunt, on those occasions, would agree, though not eagerly, due to a desire to keep herself in his good graces.

  Then there were her estate books—which were always in a deplorable state—looking over the planting, which was always underway when they arrived, and the surveys he undertook of the estate, ensuring there was no crucial problem unattended. In between that, fending off his aunt, and attempting to visit with her and Anne without becoming annoyed and simply departing, Darcy found his days to be quite busy.

  But despite all this, Darcy found it impossible to completely forget about Miss Elizabeth, or even to relegate her to the back of his mind. Thoughts of the woman would come, unbidden, and often at the worst juncture, and once he thought of her, it would be impossible to rid his mind of her for some time.

  Often Darcy would attempt to determine what it was about her that drew his attention. It was not her beauty, for she was not flawless in that respect, and there were other women—her elder sister, for one—who were more beautiful. Her intelligence was appealing, but there were other intelligent ladies of his acquaintance. Her playful manners were something out of the ordinary, but Darcy knew other women who were similar. And while her lack of deference toward him and her refusal to adopt coy displays for the purpose of drawing his attention were refreshing, he did not think that alone would put him in such a quandary.

  While he could not quite put his finger on it, he thought that the most likely reason for it was that all these qualities were gathered into the person of one woman. Never had he met her like.

  Within a few days, Darcy’s temper had deteriorated to the point where he was becoming annoyed with her, and he wished to banish her from his mind forever. It was not her fault, but the mind is not always rational. He began to consider the possibility of leaving Rosings early that year.

  “Leave early?” asked Fitzwilliam when Darcy raised the subject, his shock evident in his voice. “Whatever do you mean?”

  “It is all so pointless,” replied Darcy. His cousin knew him like no other man alive, and Darcy had no desire to have Fitzwilliam make sport with him over Miss Elizabeth. “Lady Catherine fights me over every decision, every farthing, and I tire of it. I have looked over her books and surveyed the estate, and have given her my recommendations. There is little else for me to do here, and I would prefer to be in London with Georgiana. Surely you do not wish to continue in Lady Catherine’s company.”

  Darcy could see the suspicion bleeding from his cousin. “In past years I have begged you consider those very facts, and you refused, saying we had a duty to her and the estate. Why is this year any different?”

  “Perhaps I am finally agreeing with you.”

  “You should have seen it my way before,” said Fitzwilliam, shaking his head. “Now, this year, we finally have some interesting company staying at parsonage, and you wish to leave, whereas in previous years we would already be bored to tears.”

  “This has nothing to do with Mr. Collins and his party,” replied Darcy, more shortly than he had intended. “After Georgiana’s experience with Wickham, I would simply prefer to be with her, rather than endure my aunt.”

  “Georgiana is well recovered now,” said Fitzwilliam. “She will be fine without a hovering brother standing over her.”

  Darcy shrugged his shoulders and allowed the subject to drop. Though Fitzwilliam was being stubborn, no doubt due to the presence of the lovely Miss Elizabeth Bennet, Darcy knew that he would soon be able to turn his cousin to his way of thinking.

  For the first time since the arrival of the gentlemen, those at the parsonage had been invited to Rosings for dinner, and Elizabeth, though she was not anticipating being in company with the meddling Lady Catheri
ne or the arrogant Mr. Darcy, was nevertheless interested to see how the evening would unfold. The colonel had visited the parsonage several times, though Mr. Darcy had not come after the first day, and she was, by now, well enough acquainted with the man to know that an evening at Rosings would be more interesting than it had been in the past.

  And it appeared Elizabeth was correct in her expectation. Colonel Fitzwilliam was his typical jovial self, and he kept her well entertained. And the fact of being in the company of Lady Catherine, Mr. Darcy, and Mr. Collins—three of the most odious individuals Elizabeth had ever met—was more than compensated for by the sight of Mr. Darcy, annoyed by her cousin’s endless verbosity. Lady Catherine was, as far as Elizabeth could tell, eager to have the man as a son-in-law, and if her vexed glares were anything to go by, she was annoyed when he did not pay his cousin the attention Lady Catherine obviously thought she deserved. The only one of the three who was not annoyed in some fashion was Mr. Collins, and that was likely because he was in his element, toadying up to Lady Catherine and Mr. Darcy without any hint of embarrassment.

  “What amuses you, Miss Bennet?”

  Elizabeth turned at the sound of the soft query, and she smiled at Colonel Fitzwilliam. “I am simply happy to be amid such superior company.”

  The man shook his head and chuckled—no doubt he could find amusement in the situation, much as she could herself. “Whether the company is superior is not for me to say.” Then he turned an upraised eyebrow at Elizabeth. “It is my understanding that had the situation been different, you might have been . . . privileged to partake of this company on a more permanent basis.”

  Though knowing exactly to what the man referred, Elizabeth could not decide whether to be annoyed at Mr. Collins’s inability to keep his mouth firmly closed, or amused at the colonel’s knowing glance in his aunt’s direction.

  “May I ask how you came across this information?” asked she, deciding to remain neutral for the moment.