Coincidence Page 4

  Mr. Darcy appeared to be surprised at such news. “Might I ask the name of the town in which your aunt was raised?”

  “It is called Lambton.”

  Surprise came over Mr. Darcy’s features and he blurted: “Why, that is not five miles from my home!”

  “Is it?” asked Elizabeth. “That is an interesting coincidence.”

  “And has your aunt never spoken of Pemberley?” Elizabeth frowned at his arrogance, but Mr. Darcy, seeing her expression, hastened to add: “I only ask because Pemberley is the principal estate in the area. In fact, the parish at Lambton is one of the livings in my power to bestow, and I am intimately familiar with it. Your aunt almost certainly knows of the estate by name, if nothing else.”

  Trying to ignore the fact that Mr. Darcy had another living, which he had most improperly withheld from his childhood companion, Elizabeth said: “She might have spoken of it at some point or another, Mr. Darcy, but as it was only last October that I became acquainted with you, I do not remember it. When I saw her at Christmas and again before I came into Kent, she did mention that she knew of your family and had toured the estate, but she has said nothing else. I believe it is the town itself with which she is so enamored.”

  A nod was Mr. Darcy’s response, and he seemed content to allow the subject to drop. Elizabeth immediately understood—her uncle was a despised tradesman, and Mr. Darcy would not wish to speak further about a woman whose husband was engaged in such a detestable profession.

  “In fact,” said he, “I believe you would love Pemberley, should you ever have the chance to see it. Pemberley has more than enough paths to satisfy even a determined lover of nature, such as yourself.” He again favored her with that understated smile at which he was so proficient. “I do not boast, Miss Bennet, when I say that it is one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen.”

  “I do not doubt it, sir,” said Elizabeth, certain that the man was telling nothing more than the truth.

  “If you are ever in the area, do not hesitate to visit,” said Mr. Darcy, though hesitant, almost as if he was forcing the words out from between clenched teeth. “The house is always open to visitors during the summer season. I would be happy if you would view such scenes as I am certain would bring you pleasure.”

  It had always been Elizabeth’s firmest opinion that Mr. Darcy held her in contempt, not only for her lack of beauty, which he had made clear from the first night of their acquaintance, but also for her origins. It would have been polite to him to mention his willingness to have her view his home, and as he could not be certain she would ever be in a position to travel there, it cost him nothing to make the offer.

  But his subsequent words mystified Elizabeth. She would not have thought Mr. Darcy would go to such lengths, to specify in such detail how much she would be welcome at his house. Elizabeth did not quite know what to make of it.

  They continued for some time, the conversation becoming so stilted as to be nonexistent. Mr. Darcy appeared to be thinking on something, his mind not on the words they exchanged, and soon she wished for nothing more than to be away from his company.

  At length, Darcy seemed to realize that there was little more to be said between them, and he stepped away from her. “Miss Bennet, I believe I shall take my leave of you, as my aunt is expecting me back at Rosings.”

  “I understand, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth, offering him a curtsey. “I shall finish my walk and then return to the parsonage.”

  Nodding, Mr. Darcy paused and said: “This path has become a favorite?”

  “Indeed, it has,” replied Elizabeth, looking around her with a cheery smile. “It is a beautiful locale, and I have become very fond of it. Though I do not walk it every day, I dare say I will pass this way several times every week.”

  Mr. Darcy considered that and then he tipped his hat. “An excellent choice. I bid you good day then, and I hope to see you again soon.”

  With those words, Mr. Darcy mounted and rode away, Elizabeth watching him until he disappeared into the distance. What a relief it was to have the unpleasant man leave her to her own devices!

  Now that he knew of her predilection for this path, she was assured that he would not bother her again. Elizabeth continued to walk, swinging her arms with the full vigor of her delight. It truly was a beautiful morning.

  That evening, Darcy was inattentive at best, though his aunt seemed not to notice. Indeed, the woman held court, much as she ever did, her incessant droning never requiring a response. Though Darcy did not hear one word in ten, he assumed she was reiterating the same words she always spoke—self-congratulations for all she would have accomplished if she had only tried, boasts about how content the commoners under her rule fared, no doubt interspersed with comments designed to provoke his interest in Anne, and hints about how they should be married soon.

  But Darcy heard none of it. Instead, his mind was fixed upon the encounter that morning with Miss Bennet, and the words they had exchanged. Darcy had not known what to say to her—he had never known what to say. Though he was a man, in full control of his future, confident and educated, he had always tended to lack the ability to know what to say to a woman, and that problem was exacerbated when he was in the presence of one Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

  Now that he was attuned to the truth of her feelings, it was easy to determine Miss Bennet’s disinclination for his company. Her countenance upon seeing him had been all that was pleasant, but there had been a false quality in it, a set to her jaw, and a lack of sparkle in her eyes. And he had not missed how she had taken care to inform him of her preference for the path where they had met. No doubt, she now hoped that he would avoid it in the future.

  But Darcy did not know what he wanted. The thought of putting himself in her company when she so obviously detested him was abhorrent, but as a moth is drawn to the flame, he found that her allure was not so easy to resist. When he had been out of her presence for those long months after he had left Hertfordshire, he had still thought of her often, and even dreamed of her on occasion. Now, however, she was close by, and the thought of never seeing her seemed ludicrous, her feelings for him notwithstanding.

  These thoughts, of course, brought other ruminations to mind, particularly those concerning their interactions when they had been in Hertfordshire. Her dislike of him was a riddle Darcy could not quite decipher. With the benefit of his newly acquired knowledge and his understanding of her character, he could now quite easily see that what he had taken for flirtation had been mocking, and what he had thought was interesting discourse had been nothing more than argumentation. But he could not account for why.

  They had met on a regular basis in Hertfordshire, but Darcy could not remember any time when they had spoken without at least the veneer of civility. And given the argumentative nature of their interactions, he knew that her antipathy must have had its genesis early in their acquaintance. What he could not imagine was how she could have taken so decided a dislike to him so soon.

  A stray thought entered his head that perhaps she had been poisoned by Wickham’s sibilant lies, but he dismissed it without giving it further thought. Not only was Miss Bennet intelligent and discerning enough to see through the blackguard’s lies, but her behavior had predated Wickham’s arrival in the neighborhood; many of their most combative discussions had taken place while her eldest sister had been ill at Netherfield. And since she could not possibly know of his advice to Bingley regarding her sister, she could not hold that against him, though he knew well she might if she ever learned of it. His advice to Bingley had also happened long after her behavior had begun.

  “Darcy!”

  Blinking, Darcy focused on his aunt who was watching him with some asperity.

  “You are inattentive tonight. Why, I do not believe you have heard a single word spoken in the past five minutes!”

  Perhaps not, thought Darcy, but I am certain I can guess their content.

  Fitzwilliam was grinning at him, and he shook his head, con
firming Darcy’s conjecture.

  “My apologies, aunt,” said Darcy, looking away from Fitzwilliam to avoid his infectious smile. “I was considering a problem which has arisen at Pemberley.”

  “Oh?” asked Lady Catherine. “Perhaps you should share it with me. I am well-versed with resolving all such issues, I assure you.”

  Darcy cursed the woman’s arrogance under his breath, even while Fitzwilliam’s grin widened. He should have known that his aunt would attempt to insinuate herself into his business.

  “There is no need, Aunt,” said Darcy. “I believe I already have a solution.”

  Though the woman looked at him, suspicion alive in her eyes, she did not attempt to press him further. The words she spoke, however, were as vexing as they would have been had she done so.

  “I require your attention, Darcy, especially for your cousin. Business matters may wait until the morning.”

  The retort which sprung to his lips was instantly swallowed, and Darcy allowed her to continue to speak, intent upon allowing the matter to be forgotten.

  But his aunt’s words brought something else to his mind. She had always been insistent with respect to her desire for him to marry her daughter, but Darcy realized, perhaps belatedly, that he had no idea what Anne’s opinion was on the subject.

  As a young child, Anne had been much more open, much more active and affectionate. But a fever at the age of ten had robbed her of much of her vitality, and as he father had died in that same outbreak of fever, she had been left behind with a domineering mother, one who controlled her every move. Darcy could not say for certain, but he thought that she would be better off if she was only allowed to be a little more active, to walk in the gardens, or ride a horse, or even to sit at the pianoforte, as many other young ladies did daily.

  Be that as it may, the Anne he had come to know as a young woman, and then as an adult, had rarely offered an opinion of her own. Was she amenable to a marriage with him? Or was she hoping for it, knowing it would take her out of her mother’s reach?

  That last thought unsettled Darcy, as he did not know what he would do if he were to discover that she was desperate to be married to him. Could he make her an offer, knowing they were ill-suited and would almost certainly be unhappy together, all to rescue her from her mother?

  None of these questions were within Darcy’s ability to answer. And as he listened to Lady Catherine drone on, Darcy attempted to study Anne, while not drawing his aunt’s attention. She sat there, her companion fussing about her, occasionally adjusting the shawl that lay on her shoulders, as if it was not already spring. Perhaps he should ask her opinion.

  The resolution born from that thought grew in Darcy’s mind, and he knew that was exactly what he needed to do. Of course, it could not be done where Lady Catherine could possibly overhear—not only would her ladyship jump to conclusions, but if Darcy wished to hear his cousin’s opinion, he could not do it where Lady Catherine would be present to promote her own.

  Thus, Darcy waited until that evening after his aunt retired. Anne had gone to her chambers some time earlier, but when Darcy walked by her door, he noticed that a light was still on in her room, which suggested that Anne had not yet sought her bed. Steeling himself, wondering if he was doing the right thing, Darcy knocked on the door, careful to keep his taps quiet.

  A moment later, a young woman opened the door. Darcy assumed it was Anne’s maid.

  “Has Miss de Bourgh retired yet?” asked Darcy, feeling extremely foolish.

  “No, Mr. Darcy,” said the maid.

  “Please inform her that I would like a word with her.”

  The maid curtseyed and disappeared inside the room for several moments, and Darcy thought he could hear the soft murmur of conversation. A moment later she reappeared.

  “Miss de Bourgh will see you, sir.”

  When Darcy stepped into the room, the first thing he noticed that it was warm—at the point of being uncomfortably so. A roaring fire in the grate was clearly the reason, as was the fact that the windows were shuttered with heavy drapes, which no doubt served to keep much of the heat in the room. The room was decorated in drab colors—mostly unappealing shades of light yellow and browns, no doubt Lady Catherine’s idea of a proper room for a young woman.

  Anne sat on one of the sofas furthest from the fire, and though she had a shawl at hand and a blanket behind her, neither was about her shoulders. She was dressed in a nightgown, covered by a dressing gown, and had a book on the sofa by her side. She watched him as he entered, a slight smile on her face in seeming amusement.

  “One might wonder why you would come to my room at this hour, Darcy,” said she. “If my mother were to find you here, she would run through the countryside screaming ‘compromise,’ demanding that you marry me.”

  Darcy gaped at his cousin. He could never have fathomed that Anne, who had not volunteered a comment not prompted by her mother in a decade, would speak in such an irreverent fashion. The inference of her words . . . .

  Unable to help himself, Darcy blurted: “And you do not wish to marry me?”

  The look Anne bestowed upon him suggested she questioned his sanity. “You do?”

  They gaped at each other for a moment, each seemingly stunned by the words of the other. Then Darcy’s attention was caught by a little giggle, and soon Anne was laughing quietly. And once she began laughing, Darcy could not help but to join in.

  He sat himself on the sofa, more than a respectable distance from his cousin, still chuckling and shaking his head.

  “In fact, Anne,” said Darcy, “that is why I came to see you, when I could be certain your mother would not overhear us. She has made her wishes well known, and many times over. But the thought struck me that you had never voiced your own opinion, and I determined that I should ask.”

  “So, that was what you were thinking of when she called you to order.”

  Looking away in embarrassment, Darcy said: “No, actually. That came after.”

  The look with which Anne favored him was entirely too knowing for Darcy’s tastes, but she did not pursue the matter.

  “Then have you come in this state to propose to me? I would not have expected it of you. I rather thought that you would never bow to my mother’s wishes. In fact, I counted on it.”

  “Truly?” asked Darcy.

  “I cannot understand why you would doubt it,” snapped Anne, her patience seemingly at an end. “I am not healthy, Darcy. Before I would even consider such a step as marriage, I would much rather see if I can regain my health. As it stands now, I do not know that I can withstand the demands of childbirth.”

  “Is it truly that bad?” asked Darcy.

  Anne shook her head. “I hardly know. I have not much stamina, and I do tend to catch every ague that sweeps through the area. But since I do nothing—at my mother’s insistence, I might add—I hardly know the limits of my strength.

  “Now,” said Anne, fixing him with a stern glare, “I wish to know why you have come. I had not thought the lure of Rosings would be enough to sway you, but it is possible that I might be mistaken. I cannot think my charms have tempted you.”

  Frowning, Darcy said: “It was neither, though I believe you devalue yourself. My purpose was nothing more or less than what I stated—I wished to ascertain your own opinion on the matter.”

  “I have given it. Now what will you do?”

  “Nothing. I have no interest in bowing to your mother’s demands. If it is not your wish either, there is nothing further to discuss. I will continue to keep her at bay, as I have always done.”

  “So you can pursue the impertinent Miss Bennet?”

  Darcy gaped at his cousin, prompting her to giggle again. “Darcy, your mask is not nearly so impenetrable as you suppose. My mother has seen nothing of your admiration, and Mr. Collins is the densest man I have ever seen, but I doubt anyone else at the parsonage or Rosings Park has missed it, though Miss Lucas might be too young to understand it.”

  “Fit
zwilliam does not know as much as he thinks he does,” said Darcy, speaking in an absence of mind. “He has encouraged me to pursue her, but he would tease me incessantly if he knew I admired her.”

  “He must at least suspect,” said Anne, making a dismissive gesture with her hand. “Mrs. Collins certainly suspects, though she is too well bred to pry.”

  “How could you possibly know this?” asked Darcy, as he darted a suspicious glance at his cousin. “I have only spent one evening in company with both the Rosings party and those of the parsonage.”

  “It was more than enough. And I was not completely certain until you so obligingly confirmed it only moments ago.”

  “I have confirmed nothing,” replied Darcy, a hint of haughtiness appearing in his tone unbidden. “I merely said that Fitzwilliam would tease if he had even a suspicion.”

  “Very well, Cousin,” said Anne. “I will speak no more on the matter. I will, however, assist you in your endeavor to impress the young lady—perhaps if we can arrange for you to be married, mother will give up this fantasy and leave me in peace.”

  “Anne,” said Darcy, warning her with his tone and his glare, “do not do anything to alert your mother to any such gossip. If Fitzwilliam would behave badly on the suspicion, you know your mother would be infinitely worse, at the mere suggestion. Do not make Miss Bennet’s life difficult.”

  Anne only looked skyward. “I have more discretion than that, Darcy. You have no need to fear.”

  Perhaps it was only the surreal setting, but Darcy thought he caught a hint of Lady Catherine’s stubborn will in her daughter. It was past time to end this conversation, he decided, so he rose and bowed.

  “I am happy we have been able to settle this, Anne,” said he. “I can assure you that I will continue to put your mother off—you need not fear being tied to me.”

  “That is very much appreciated,” was Anne’s wry response. “Now, you had better go. You would not wish my mother to find you here.”