To Love Mr Darcy Read online

  “Mr Wickham,” they said as they curtsied.

  “Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, it is a pleasure to see you again.” He swept his hat from his head and bowed low.

  “And what brings you to town on such a dismal day, ladies? Surely the hearth at Longbourn would be more welcoming?”

  “That is true, sir, but sometimes the inducement to venture outside outweighs the pleasure of remaining inside,” Elizabeth replied gaily.

  “Then I too, am glad that you decided to walk this way,” he said, offering each lady an arm.

  They walked along the main street exchanging pleasantries until suddenly they heard a most unladylike shriek from the vicinity of the town square.

  “Wickham!” cried Lydia.

  Elizabeth turned to bestow a glare of disapproval on her younger sister, and chastised her in a hushed tone

  “Lydia, try to remember where you are.”

  Elizabeth turned to Wickham and gave a weak smile, proclaiming,

  “I find that the exuberance of younger siblings sometimes bubbles to the surface at the most inappropriate times.”

  “Oh fie, Lizzy, no-one cares about such things anymore,” Lydia scoffed. “Besides, you were keeping Wickham all to yourself, isn’t that so, Kitty?”

  Kitty raised her eyebrows but said nothing. From experience, she knew if she replied, either way, one of her sisters would be unhappy.

  However, Lydia was insistent for an answer and pushed her further.

  “Tell her Kitty; is it not as I have said?”

  Kitty was about to convey her impartial reply when the clatter of horse’s hooves distracted her. The assembled group turned to watch the approaching carriage, a billowing cloud of dust testament to the speed it was going. Initially, it passed them by, then the driver abruptly pulled it to a halt, with such savage haste that the horses reared up on their hind legs, each snorting swirling clouds of steam from their nostrils as they pawed at the ground impatiently. The mud-splattered footman hopped down to open the door for his solitary passenger, but he was too slow. It was flung back with such force that it struck the carriage side with a resounding thud, and the occupant jumped down to the ground. With his great coat billowing out behind him, Darcy made short work of the distance between Elizabeth and him.

  With a scowl of thunder on his brow and his chest heaving with the exertion of controlling his temper, he hissed,

  “Take your hands-off Miss Elizabeth, Wickham.”

  Jane, who had been advised by Mr Bingley about Darcy’s aversion to Wickham, watched as the latter visibly blanched at the arrival of Mr Darcy.

  Quickly detaching Elizabeth’s hand from his arm, Wickham then took a small, yet significant step backwards.

  “Elizabeth, come to me,” Darcy ordered in a guttural tone.

  Oblivious that he had used her given name, Elizabeth was incensed that Darcy had ordered her to his side like a servant. His tone should have warned her that now was not the time to argue, but she just couldn’t help herself.

  “I find I like the view from this side of the street much better thank you, sir,” she said defiantly and placed her hand back on Mr Wickham’s arm.

  “Madam, I must insist that you get in the carriage and return to Longbourn with me,” Darcy demanded.

  Emboldened by Elizabeth’s refusal, Wickham stepped forward.

  “As expected, Darcy, the ladies prefer my company to yours,” he said with bravado.

  “Stay out of this, Wickham,” Darcy growled.

  “I’d love to, old man, but the lady has made her choice. So why don’t you just leave?” gloated Wickham, as he covering Elizabeth’s hand with his own.

  In an instant, Darcy crossed the road that separated them and grabbed Wickham by the throat.

  Although only a few inches taller than his opponent, Darcy dangled Wickham in the air like a rag doll.

  “You are not fit to share the same air as gentlefolk, Wickham especially my intended. Now step away from Miss Elizabeth and stay away. Do you understand?” Darcy commanded.

  Wickham began gasping for air as Darcy tightened his grip. He raised his hands and tried to loosen the vice that encompassed his throat, clawing at the fingers that were blocking his airway. In desperation, he nodded his acquiescence to Darcy’s demand, and after what seemed like an eternity, his attacker released him.

  Wickham promptly fell to the floor in a pathetic heap, coughing and gasping for air.

  Lydia quickly bent down to tend to Wickham, who accepted her ministrations with a feeble smile.

  Elizabeth and the other bystanders stared in disbelief at what they had just witnessed. Outraged by his behaviour, Elizabeth opened her mouth to berate him, but before she could utter a single word, Darcy grabbed her by the elbow and propelled her towards the carriage door.

  The waiting footman flipped down the steps and then stood well back as Darcy thrust Elizabeth into the carriage, then climbed in behind her.

  With the footman only partially on board, the coachman cracked the whip, and the horses set off at a pace.

  The air in the carriage was thick with anger.

  Elizabeth felt humiliated by Darcy’s actions and mortified that Wickham had been so violently ill-treated at his hands. Not for the first time she seethed at the injustice of being a woman.

  Darcy, on the other hands, was furious with Elizabeth for blatantly refusing his request to return to Longbourn with him. The result of which was his confrontation with Wickham. He tore his gaze from the window and glared at her.

  She was perched on the edge of her seat, desperately trying to maintain an indignant air as the carriage jostled along the ruts in the road. As she swayed violently from side to side, his anger softened. Had not her sweet nature towards others been partly responsible for his attraction to her? She could not know that Wickham was ill-deserving of her attention.

  As the carriage entered the wood flanked section of road, Darcy raised his cane and rapped on the carriage roof.

  Hearing this signal, the driver pulled the horses to a halt.

  Elizabeth, who was aware that Darcy was looking at her, stubbornly refused to meet his gaze. Instead, she stared straight ahead.

  Darcy watched her for a few seconds. This is going to be harder than I imagined. In Elizabeth’s eyes, his treatment of Wickham must have looked unprovoked and brutal, but he was sure once he explained she would understand his reasoning.

  “Elizabeth, will you walk with me?” he asked.

  Elizabeth ignored his entreaty.

  With a weary sighing, Darcy said,

  “The carriage will remain here until you agree to come with me, Elizabeth.”

  She gave a derisory sniff and raised her chin even higher.

  Darcy was unaccustomed to having his requests ignored.

  “Very well, we will sit here, but be warned Elizabeth, I am a man of my word. If you refuse to walk with me now, we will remain here until you do.” Then he added, “All night if necessary.”

  His last statement had the desired effect.

  Elizabeth flung open the door, and before the poor footman could lower the steps, she had jumped down onto the forest floor.

  Having won his point, Darcy followed her out of the carriage and then ordered the driver to wait at Longbourn for him.

  Elizabeth, who knew the road intimately, set off at a swift pace.

  Darcy increased his stride to keep up with her.

  “Elizabeth, will you not wait and let me explain…?” he began, but Elizabeth was in no mood to listen.

  She turned and let loose with a scathing reply.

  “I have not given you permission to use my given name, sir. You will address me as Miss Bennet. You dare to call yourself a gentleman. What I see standing before me is a bully and an oaf. And after that disgusting display of barbarism, I cannot imagine you have any excuse to offer.”

  Elizabeth turned and continued along the path.

  This was a step too far for Darcy. Coming to terms with his offer of
marriage was one thing, but insulting his integrity was quite another.

  Taking hold of her hand, he pulled her to a halt.

  Elizabeth twisted her hand this way and that as she tried to break free, but his grip was too firm. She was only succeeding in making her wrist hurt. Reluctantly, and with a petulant stamp of her foot, Elizabeth stopped struggling and stood still.

  “That’s better,” Darcy said while maintaining his grip.

  “Firstly, I was not about to offer an excuse, I do not need, nor do I intend, to make excuses for my behaviour. It was unfortunate that you witnessed my lapse in self-control, but one day you will understand why Wickham’s actions received such a response. I was merely going to explain that the bad blood between George Wickham and myself is deep-seated and personal, and not the result of a jealous tantrum on my part. He is not the gentleman he professes to be, Elizabeth. Secondly, I was disappointed that the prospect of spending time with me this morning caused you to flee your home.”

  With no acknowledgement from Elizabeth, Darcy spoke sharper than he intended. “Very well, if you prefer that we spend no time together until we meet before the Altar, so be it.” His voice softened slightly as he added, “However, I had hoped that we could use these weeks to get to know one another.”

  Elizabeth stared up at him.

  “So, you are still determined to marry me, even after this morning’s fiasco?” she demanded.

  “Nothing could induce me to break our engagement, Elizabeth, and I suggest you resign yourself to becoming my wife,” he told her soberly.

  Elizabeth's shoulder slumped in resignation.

  Seeing this, Darcy gauging she was no longer a flight risk and released her hand. By way of testing his theory, he walked over to a fallen tree trunk and sat down. When she did not immediately follow him, Darcy beckoned for her to come hither and sit with him.

  With leaden steps, she obliged.

  Darcy could not bear to see how sad and dejected her demeanour had become. Was the prospect of becoming his wife really so abhorrent to her?

  “Elizabeth, I fear we have got off to a poor start. I thought after our time together at Netherfield that you held me in some regard, that you would welcome my proposal. I did not realise you despised me so vehemently,” he said sadly.

  “Then you release me?” Elizabeth asked hopefully.

  “No,” he said resolutely. “We will be married as planned, but I would like us to try to become better acquainted before we marry. I would ask that you at least give me a chance, Elizabeth.”

  With Darcy being so honest regarding his intentions, Elizabeth also spoke freely.

  “Forgive me, but I too must be candid. I do not despise you, Mr Darcy, but neither do I love you. When I nursed Jane at Netherfield, I thought we dealt very well together. I judged us as more than acquaintances, friends perhaps, but nothing more. And though you may believe it to be a childish fantasy, I had hoped to marry for love,” Elizabeth informed him bluntly.

  “A marriage such as your parent’s perhaps?” Darcy retorted, then instantly regretted it.

  “Their marriage is of a peculiar kind I admit, but it has been a long and happy one,” Elizabeth said in defence of her parents. “Can you guarantee ours would be filled with such affection, and of long duration?”

  Darcy knew, in all honesty, he could not.

  During the ensuing silence, Elizabeth appreciated that if she had just remained at home this morning to receive Mr Darcy when he had called, the event in town would never have occurred. Therefore, she too must accept some of the responsibility for what happened to Mr Wickham. By running away, Elizabeth had in effect thrown the two men together in what appeared, for them both, an intolerable situation. In hindsight, it was childish to think she could avoid spending time with Mr Darcy. If she wanted to be treated as an adult, then she must act like one. With that realisation came another; with her father’s blessing and consent already given, Mr Darcy would become her husband in four weeks’ time.

  As she sat silently staring at the ground, she recalled a time when her opinion of Mr Darcy was quite different to the view she now held.

  During those days confined at Netherfield while Jane recuperated from her illness, she had found Mr Darcy a charming, talkative and witty house guest. When dealing with Miss Bingley and her constant demands for his attention, Mr Darcy had shown a considerable amount of tact and patience. Also, his friendship with Mr Bingley was a credit to him. Befriending a gentleman whose background was in trade, even if he was now wealthy, was usually frowned upon. And although she had felt insulted by his comment at the Meryton Assembly, it was not until Mr Wickham confided to her his story of ill-treatment, that her resentment towards Mr Darcy had really grown. Sighing deeply, she decided under the circumstances Mr Darcy’s request was not an unreasonable one.

  With a hint of resignation in her voice, Elizabeth said,

  “Very well, I promise not run away again. You may call on me at your leisure if that is your wish.”

  “Do I have your word on that, Elizabeth?” Darcy asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Very well then, and I promise I will explain all about Wickham once you have met my sister Georgiana. Now, let us make our way back to Longbourn. I am in dire need of some refreshment, and no doubt you are too.”

  Darcy offered Elizabeth his arm.

  She lightly placed her hand on his sleeve, and together they began the short journey back to Longbourn.

  For some reason, Elizabeth felt that with every step she was leaving her carefree life further behind her.

  While on the other hand, Darcy imagined his future stretching out before him and was eager to be on his way.

  On their return to Longbourn, Mr Darcy said his farewell to Elizabeth and then stood talking to Mr Bennet for some time.

  By their grave countenance, it was clear they were discussing the events of the morning.

  Elizabeth felt vexed that they were out of earshot, but she waited until Mr Darcy had left before making her way to her father’s study.

  “Well, Lizzy, it seems you are causing trouble for your future husband already, even before you are married,” Mr Bennet said sternly.

  “Me, cause trouble for Mr Darcy? How so, sir? I only walked to Meryton with my sisters’. Did Mr Darcy tell you that he viciously attacked Mr Wickham in the street this morning, merely because he was with me?”

  “Mr Darcy and I discussed the incident at length, Elizabeth. For reasons I am not at liberty to divulge, the militia are no longer welcome at Longbourn. Especially George Wickham! You girls are to have nothing more to do with him, is that understood? Now, gather your mother and sisters in the parlour, I want to make my feelings on this matter perfectly clear to you all.”

  Elizabeth had not seen her father this incensed, about anything, in ages. Giving a small bob as her curtsy, Elizabeth hurried to find her mother and sisters without delay. Whatever had transpired between Mr Darcy and Wickham, her father apparently supported Mr Darcy.

  Chapter Three

  The morning after the Wickham incident, there were two callers at Longbourn. One was Mr Darcy, and the other was Charlotte Lucas. They both joined the Bennet ladies in the morning room, where they shared a pot of tea and some idle chit-chat. However, Mrs Bennet was bursting to talk about Elizabeth’s engagement to Mr Darcy, and continually tried to bring the conversation around to the subject.

  Finally, she could hold her tongue no more and blurted out,

  “I do so love a winter wedding, don’t you, Miss Lucas?”

  Charlotte, who had come with news of her own, assumed Mrs Bennet knew of her engagement.

  Relieved by Mrs Bennet’s happy tone, Charlotte asked,

  “I gather you have heard my news then, Mrs Bennet?”

  “News, about you Miss Lucas? I have heard nothing of the sort,” said Mrs Bennet, irritated that Charlotte had not asked her to expand on her own comment. However, on seeing Mr Darcy raise one eyebrow at her sharp tone, she continu
ed in an appeasing tone,

  “But if you have news to share, Miss Lucas, you may confide in us,” she then forced a smile to curl her lips.

  Charlotte carefully put her cup and saucer down on the table. Mrs Bennet could be a formidable force when the mood took her, and Charlotte quite expected this to be one of those times.

  Lowering her gaze, Charlotte looked down at her hands, and said,

  “I am engaged to be married, Mrs Bennet.”

  “You, engaged?” boomed Mrs Bennet. “Pray, who would want to marry you?”

  Elizabeth’s cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment at her mother’s harsh words, and she swiftly stepped in to defend her friend.

  “Mamma, that is unkind. Charlotte has come to share her joy with us, and we should be happy for her. I am happy for her.” Elizabeth crossed the room and kissed her dearest friend on the cheek while offering her congratulations.

  “Well, Lizzy, no one has offered for her these seven and twenty years, and I know of no gentlemen who would do so now!” Mrs Bennet declared.

  She sensed that this would not be enough to appease her daughter. Turning back to Charlotte, she asked,

  “Are we acquainted with the gentleman, Miss Lucas?”

  Elizabeth’s continued look of disapproval forced Mrs Bennet to offer Charlotte her congratulations, all be it reluctantly.

  “Oh, very well, I wish you joy, Miss Lucas. You may come and kiss me.”

  Charlotte stayed in her seat. She was filled with trepidation at the thought of revealing the name of her groom.

  Gathering all the courage she could muster, Charlotte quickly blurted out,

  “As soon as he returns from Kent with Lady Catherine’s blessing, I am to marry Mr Collins.”

  Charlotte had been wise to put her cup down, for Mrs Bennet’s response was worthy of an actress on the stage.

  “You! To marry Mr Collins? To take my place as mistress of Longbourn! Impossible! I never heard of such a thing. Oh, my nerves, they are all of a flutter. My salts, girl, gets me my salts, quickly,” she shouted at Kitty.

  Charlotte had witnessed many of Mrs Bennet’s fainting dramas over the years, but having been the cause of this one, she had no intention of staying until it concluded. Instead, Charlotte squeezed Elizabeth’s hand in silent farewell, and then slipped seamlessly out the garden doors. Thankfully, this went unnoticed by Mrs Bennet who was overcome with her own drama.