Coincidence Page 3

“When my aunt mentioned how her parson had recently married, Darcy was, for a moment, under the mistaken impression that the man had paid his addresses to you. My aunt mentioned that perhaps you had received them, but had declined the privilege. I am sorry if it seems like gossip; I was only curious.”

  “I am not vexed with you, colonel,” replied Elizabeth, her glance at her verbose cousin, who was even now praising the cut of beef, speaking volumes to her feelings for the man. “I should have known that Mr. Collins could never keep anything from your aunt. In fact, I am rather surprised that she did not take me to task for it when I arrived.”

  “That is only because you do not know my aunt.” Elizabeth’s eyes swiveled to the colonel, a question in them, which he readily answered. “You are not living under my aunt’s purview, nor are you family, which ensured that she would give no thought to your decisions. Though she loves to be of use to others, those are the two groups she focuses upon. Now, had you been her niece, no doubt she would have waxed eloquent, though, of course, she would have been scandalized that a lowly parson would have had the audacity to offer for you.”

  Elizabeth could not help but laugh at this portrayal of Lady Catherine, which she though was quite accurate. “In that case, I must thank the powers that be that I am not related to her ladyship. Of course, I have no doubt that you and Mr. Darcy have been the willing beneficiaries of her benevolence for many years, so I should avoid speaking in such a manner lest I give offense.”

  “Not at all,” replied the colonel. “As I am certain you are quite capable of determining which advice you will accept from her, those of us in the family have also learned to do likewise. To wit, we ignore everything she says.”

  It was a near thing, but Elizabeth was able to avoid breaking out into laughter, which she knew would draw the lady’s censure. “Oh, really?” was all she said. “Is there any particular advice which you have avoided on this particular visit?”

  “My aunt’s counsel is so plentiful, that I hardly know where to start.” They laughed again together quietly.

  “Fitzwilliam, what are you saying to Miss Bennet?”

  They exchanged a slightly rueful look before the colonel turned to his aunt. “We were speaking of advice, Lady Catherine, and how there are some who offer it unreservedly.”

  Lady Catherine, obviously thinking that they were speaking of her, preened like a peacock. “It is true—there are some who are knowledgeable and have much to offer others. Should you have anything of which you would like advice, Miss Bennet, be informed that I would be happy to oblige.”

  “Thank you, Lady Catherine,” said Elizabeth, though she could not say how she managed to keep a straight face. “I am certain I shall come to you should anything arise.”

  A benevolent nod was her ladyship’s response, and she turned back to Mr. Darcy. For his part, the man’s countenance was as bleak and expressionless as ever, and Elizabeth could not say what he thought of her sally, though he almost certainly understood her meaning. Mr. Collins was regarding her with his own form of munificence, likely pleased that she was showing Lady Catherine the level of deference he felt was essential. And Charlotte, though her expression was as carefully neutral as Elizabeth’s, looked at Elizabeth and raised an eyebrow. Elizabeth only shook her head.

  “Well, you certainly made an impression on my cousin,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam when Elizabeth turned back to him.

  “I am certain I have. But then again, I believe I have given him more than enough reasons to look down on me, so it is of little matter.”

  The colonel frowned. “I am certain I do not know to what you refer. I will own that he did not speak much of you before our arrival—he rarely speaks of anyone he meets—but what he said did not indicate any contempt for you. Quite the contrary, in fact.

  “And just now, he was on the verge of laughing, I assure you.”

  Elizabeth turned shocked eyes on the colonel. “Mr. Darcy was about to laugh? It seemed to me like he was more scowling than laughing.”

  “You may think that, Miss Bennet,” said the colonel. “But then, you do not truly know my cousin. I know him better than most, and I can assure you that he was not displeased by our humor. On the contrary, there is little occasion to laugh when at Rosings, so any opportunity must be taken.”

  Not certain what to make of the colonel’s declaration, Elizabeth made a noncommittal noise and turned back to her meal.

  This playful banter persisted between them throughout the meal, and then after when they retired to the sitting-room. Lady Catherine insisted that Elizabeth play, and after Elizabeth had finished the first song, Lady Catherine proceeded to inform them all that Elizabeth would never play well unless she practiced—which Elizabeth could confess was true—and then proceeded to inform the company that she would have been a marvelous performer, had she taken the time to learn. She then proceeded to ignore Elizabeth in favor of promoting a match between her daughter and her nephew.

  Elizabeth was quite happy to cede her attention to others. Colonel Fitzwilliam sat by her side the entire time she was sitting at the pianoforte and they spoke in their animated fashion. Had Lady Catherine been paying any attention to them, Elizabeth thought she might have been a target for censure, but as she was not, she found herself happy to enjoy her time with the colonel.

  It was later that night, as Elizabeth was preparing for bed that Charlotte knocked on her door, entering when Elizabeth called out. Her friend entered and directed a smile at Elizabeth, sitting on her bed and looking at her with some expectation. Elizabeth, who could not quite make out what her friend wanted, only returned Charlotte’s look with one of her own.

  “Oh, Lizzy,” said Charlotte, shaking her head in exasperation, “you are much too open for your own good. Surely you must know that I saw you with Colonel Fitzwilliam tonight. He seems to be pay you an inordinate amount of attention.”

  Though surprised at Charlotte’s assertions, Elizabeth could readily concede that she had wondered on the man’s attentions herself.

  “He is a genial man, not bereft of manners and sense. I find that I enjoy his company prodigiously.”

  “That much is evident,” replied Charlotte. “But what do you think of his intentions?”

  Elizabeth shrugged. “I cannot say. He gives the appearance of happiness and garrulity in general. I could not find any indication in his manners that he is a man admiring a woman. I dare say Lady Catherine’s nephews are both safe from me.”

  “That is well then,” said Charlotte, “for I was not the only one to witness your interaction.”

  “Do not tell me that Lady Catherine intends to defend her nephew’s honor from me,” said Elizabeth with a laugh.

  “No,” replied Charlotte. “As far as I can tell, Lady Catherine was too involved with Mr. Darcy to have suspected anything between you and the colonel. My husband was intent upon his patroness for most of the evening, but when you were playing, he took notice of you and the colonel, and he was not happy.”

  Elizabeth could not help the grimace which resulted from Charlotte’s words. “And now he means to defend the colonel from me?”

  A shaken head was Charlotte’s response, and she leaned forward and grasped Elizabeth’s hand. “In fact, I believe he thought it unlikely you could be so audacious, though he was determined to warn you against improper behavior. I convinced him to allow me to speak with you in his stead.”

  “For that I am grateful,” said Elizabeth, suppressing a shudder at the thought of that interview. “You may tell Mr. Collins that the colonel was only being polite, and that I have no designs upon him.”

  “Excellent!” said Charlotte. She squeezed Elizabeth’s hand and rose. “I know you are not attempting to snare a husband, Elizabeth, and I understand the colonel likely does not possess the fortune to keep you in any sort of style. But it may be prudent to avoid the colonel’s overt attentions, even if he is only being friendly. Next time it might not be my husband who notices.”

  Noddi
ng, though annoyed at Mr. Collins, Elizabeth said: “Sage advice. Though I cannot control the colonel’s behavior, I will ensure that my own is above reproach.”

  With a squeeze of her hand, Charlotte departed the room, leaving Elizabeth to her ruminations. For a few moments, she attempted to think on the matter, wondering if the colonel truly was partial to her. But she put it out of her mind soon after; if he was, there was nothing she could do about it, and she decided that what she had told Charlotte was nothing but the truth. Regardless, Elizabeth decided that her heart was not in danger from the man, so it was of little matter.

  “Though I had given little credit to the thought that I might need to censure you for your behavior, it seems like I must.”

  Ensconced in the study as they were, partaking of a nightcap before bed, Darcy thought it was an appropriate time to discuss his cousin’s attentions toward Miss Bennet, unlikely, as they were, to be overheard. Fitzwilliam, as was his custom, was slouched in an armchair, one leg flung over the side, his glass in his hand as he sipped from it with an absence of mind. At Darcy’s words, however, he looked up.

  “I am sorry, cousin, but I have not the slightest notion of your meaning. Perhaps you should be explicit.”

  “I am speaking of Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” said Darcy, feeling peevish. “Though Lady Catherine was focused almost exclusively on me during and after dinner, I was not without my powers of observation. Had she seen the way you were glued to Miss Bennet’s side, laughing and carrying on with her, you know that her censure would have been much more pointed than mine.”

  “What is it to her?” asked Fitzwilliam. “What is it to you, for that matter? Our aunt does not consider me an acceptable candidate to become her son-in-law, after all, and as such, she rarely pays much attention to what I do. As for you, unless you have some prior claim on the woman, I cannot imagine how it would affect you either.”

  Feeling more than a little annoyed with his cousin’s nonchalance, Darcy frowned at him. “No, I have no claim on Miss Bennet. But though our aunt typically focuses on me, you know she would not be happy if she knew that you were considering a penniless country girl for a bride.”

  Fitzwilliam laughed. “I believe your imagination is a little too active, cousin. I will own that I enjoy Miss Bennet’s company. I cannot think of many who would not. But I am not considering her for anything. She is a handsome and witty young woman, and I esteem her no more than that.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes, cousin, it is.” Fitzwilliam caught the measure of skepticism in Darcy’s voice, and his answering frown spoke to his annoyance. “When a man speaks with a woman he finds interesting, it does not necessarily follow that he intends to make love to her. Miss Bennet is a woman unlike any other, and I believe, given the right inducement, I might find myself in love with her with little provocation. Unfortunately, she does not meet my needs with respect to fortune—this I well know.”

  Something in Darcy breathed easier at his cousin’s confession, though why Darcy should be so relieved he was not certain. It was not as if he was interested in the woman himself—even if he was, he now knew exactly what she thought of him, so it was of little matter.

  “If you will excuse my saying so,” said Fitzwilliam, drawing Darcy’s attention back to their conversation, “I find it interesting that you have appointed yourself as the protector of the young woman’s sensibilities.”

  “I merely wish to avoid the scene which would manifest itself should you draw our aunt’s attention.”

  “Forgive me if I do not believe you.” Fitzwilliam grinned. “In fact, it seems to me that you are giving a faithful impression of a man trying not to fall in love with a woman. Imagine the scene that would then unfold if you did, and our aunt became aware of it.”

  “Do not be ridiculous!” snapped Darcy. “I certainly have no interest in the woman.”

  “You do not?” asked Fitzwilliam, his tone disbelieving. Darcy scowled at him, which Fitzwilliam cheerfully ignored. “You forget, Darcy—I am quite aware of your ways. The first clue was when you spoke of her after your return to town last year. I cannot remember you ever speaking about a woman before. Even Georgiana remarked on it. Then at the parsonage the day we arrived, I noted your inability to remove your eyes from her. I will own that I cannot quite account for your reticence.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Darcy, little though he thought he would appreciate the answer.

  “Why, because you are in a position which allows you to ignore a woman’s lack of dowry, if you so choose. As far as I am aware, Pemberley is profitable, and your other estates and investments are also prospering. You do not need the dowry of a wife to prop up your failing finances.”

  “What of her lack of connections and the fact that her station in life is so decidedly beneath my own?”

  “Oh, Darcy, do not be an arrogant ass.” Darcy stiffened at the insult, but Fitzwilliam kept speaking. “You are a gentleman, and so is her father. And if she has a few less than desirable relations, what do you care?

  “You should heed my words,” said Fitzwilliam, rising and putting his glass on the desk, “if you truly esteem the woman, you should make her your wife without delay. You have no need of the things which society finds so important. Affection in marriage is rare when marriages are arranged. Make her love you and seize your happiness while you can.”

  And with that, Fitzwilliam departed from the room, leaving Darcy alone with his thoughts.

  Chapter III

  It was unfair, Elizabeth decided, vexed with the perverseness of life. The woods of Rosings were beautiful, as her cousin had assured her, and she had discovered, to her delight, that in this matter he was completely correct. The first two weeks at Rosings had been spent exploring them to her heart’s content, and though she had ranged wide over the estate, or at least those parts which were near enough for her to walk easily, there was one specific path to which she had taken a fancy. It was heavily wooded, and therefore solitary, a pleasant location which meandered over a low hill in one location, allowing a view of the estate which was quite fine. There was also a small pond just off the path a few hundred yards, which she had found quite by accident one day while walking. While Elizabeth by no means walked the same path every day, she did quite often, and she enjoyed her solitude, especially on the occasions when her cousin was being particularly silly.

  What was frustrating was the fact that it appeared others also favored that particular path, and though meeting Colonel Fitzwilliam would have been no trial, the same could not be said for Mr. Darcy. The first time she had seen him riding the path, she had been fortunate enough to be hidden in the foliage, having taken a moment to visit the pond. However, the second time, she was walking the middle of the path when he appeared from a side path, and there was no opportunity to hide herself before he noticed her presence.

  Pausing, Mr. Darcy directed a long look at her, piercing in its quality, and Elizabeth could not help but feel a slight elevation of her senses, though she could not quite determine why that should be so. For a moment, she thought that he would tip his cap and ride off, as he did not appear pleased to see her there. But after a moment of hesitation, he actually dismounted and approached her, bowing as he came near.

  Though she found it necessary to suppress a sigh, Elizabeth returned his gesture with a curtsey. “Mr. Darcy. I see you are eager to partake of the beauty of your aunt’s estate.”

  “As are you,” said he.

  “I am known to be a great walker, sir,” said Elizabeth, her amusement coming out in her tone. “With beautiful woods such as these, I cannot but be tempted.”

  It was a shock when Mr. Darcy smiled at her, though the slight upturn of his lips hardly did any justice to the term. But it was the first time Elizabeth could recall seeing any such expression from him.

  “Then perhaps we should take the path together,” said he, offering his arm to her. “Such beauty as this is always better appreciated when shared with another
who feels the same.”

  If Elizabeth had been surprised at the man’s smile, it was nothing compared to what she felt when he offered to walk with her. That she did not wish to walk with him was beyond doubt, but Elizabeth knew that it would be churlish to decline, so she took his arm.

  For a time, they said nothing, and Elizabeth began to wonder at Mr. Darcy’s purpose. Surely, he had not asked her to accompany him with nothing more in mind than walking. Should acquaintances not exchange some words in a situation such as this?

  “You are a lover of nature, then,” said Mr. Darcy at length. Elizabeth had just been forming the words to speak to him, as he had not seemed inclined to break the impasse.

  “I am,” replied she, grateful the awkward silence had come to an end. “I am naught but a country girl at heart, and though I can find enjoyment in the city, if certain amusements are available, I am most comfortable in the country.”

  “Then we have that in common,” replied Mr. Darcy. “I am never so comfortable as I am at my own estate. As for London, though there are amusements aplenty, large gatherings of people are not to my taste.”

  “I believe you have amply proven that, sir,” said Elizabeth, though attempting to keep the wry note out of her voice. She was not certain of her success, as he darted a glance at her, but he did not say anything in response. “And I do remember Mr. Bingley saying something of your behavior at your estate. I suppose we are all most comfortable in our homes.”

  “That is true.”

  Mr. Darcy paused for a moment, and when he spoke again he was hesitant, almost awkward, as if he was not certain he should speak in such a fashion.

  “Have you ever had the occasion to travel north?”

  “Unfortunately not, Mr. Darcy. I believe I would love to travel, but other than to visit my aunt and uncle in London, and this sojourn to Kent, I have not journeyed much beyond Meryton and its environs. My aunt, however, grew up in a small town in Derbyshire, and she cannot say enough about the beauties of that place. I dare say that, should you meet, you would have much to talk about, for she is as enamored of Derbyshire as I imagine you are.”