Chapter 40

Parsonage

Hunsford

It was a fine summer's day in Hunsford, and Charlotte Collins stood with her husband in the midst of his sprawling vegetable garden. They were both clad in practical garb; Charlotte was dressed in a simple frock and apron and Mr. Collins in dark garments, which would not easily show the dirt. Charlotte wore an old poke bonnet upon her head as well, thus shielding her face and neck from the July sun.

Charlotte looked around the garden with its beautiful plants, and then shifted her gaze to her husband. Mr. Collins was a silly man in many ways, especially regarding his thoughts and views of his patroness. She was proud of him when it came to his tireless labor over his garden. The garden produced far too much for their household alone, meaning that she was free to distribute vegetables to some of the tenants who were struggling. They also had quite a lot saved for the coming fall and winter, and Charlotte knew that there was far more to come.

"The squash plants are particularly vibrant, are they not, my dear?" the clergyman exclaimed, his face ruddy and slightly sweaty due to both pride and heat.

Charlotte shifted her bonnet a little, the better to protect herself from the sun's rays, and smiled. "Indeed, Husband. They are truly marvelous."

Mr. Collins smiled gratefully in return and then turned eager eyes toward the road just as a carriage rolled by. Charlotte looked as well and followed her husband to the fence, where she found him craning his neck as the vehicle disappeared in a cloud of dust.

When he stepped back, it was to display a face full of disappointment.

"I had hoped that Lady Catherine was returning," he said mournfully, "but that was not her carriage."

"I am certain she will return soon," Charlotte said soothingly. She would not, of course, confess to her husband that she truly enjoyed those precious days when Lady Catherine was elsewhere. The Collinses' patroness was haughty and demanding and annoying, and while Charlotte did not regret wedding her husband in the least, she hoped that with time his adulation of his noble benefactor would diminish.

"I wonder who that might be," Mr. Collins remarked, his lower lip jutting out just slightly. "I would have thought that if someone were visiting, Lady Catherine would have informed me."

"It appears," his wife remarked, squinting toward the approaching cloud of dust, "that they are leaving as quickly as they came."

Her husband cheered up immediately and began to speculate. "It may be one of the neighbors of Lady Catherine coming to call, who did not know that she was away. Lady Metcalfe is still in the country. Perhaps it is she, though I did not see ... did you see arms on the carriage? No, there is nothing. Indeed, it looks like it is a post chaise. I do wonder who it is!"

The carriage had, by now, passed them again on the road toward Baryton, and husband and wife retreated a few yards away to avoid the dust.

"They will have left their cards, so that Lady Catherine will know who called," Mr. Collins said comfortably. "I wish they had stopped here; we could have told them that Lady Catherine is in London!"

Charlotte smiled and said, "I need to speak to the maid about dinner. Shall I, Husband?"

"Of course, my dear, of course!"

She turned her back and entered the room at a moderate pace, her thoughts awhirl. While her husband obviously had not recognized the face which had appeared briefly in the carriage window, she had.

It left her bewildered. Why had George Wickham, who had recently been imprisoned in Marshalsea, attempted to call on Lady Catherine?

/

Darcy House

London

Later

Fitzwilliam Darcy stepped into the bedchamber of the mistress's suite and looked around anxiously. In the midst of the busyness of the previous days, he had found time to send a message to Darcy House instructing his housekeeper to have the mistress's quarters cleaned and aired. There was not so much as a speck of dust on the mantle, the windows shone from recent cleaning, and the polished wood shone in the light.

He turned toward his new bride, who was standing a few feet inside the door, and said apologetically, "I fear that the furnishings are sadly out of date, as this suite has been closed up since my mother's death."

She looked around with interest at the room, which had once been inhabited by Lady Anne Darcy. The sun was now low in the horizon, and the room was lit by the amber glow of sunset, streaming through the thin, pink curtains and illuminating the interior of the mistress's suite with a cozy glow. It was furnished but rather bare, with empty walls and worn carpet that appeared several years past time to replace. The wallpaper and linens were an accompanying pink, and despite its age, it was a pretty room, though not entirely Elizabeth's style. Not that she believed it would bother her terribly, as she intended to spend her nights in bed with her husband.

"We really are married!" she suddenly announced and then laughed at the expression of astonishment on Darcy's face. "I am sorry, my love; it is merely that it has been so busy these last days. Of course I know very well we are married, but being here, in your own mother's room, makes it feel so very real."

He pulled her into his arms at these words and pressed a kiss on her capped head. "I know what you mean, my darling. The last days have been a frenetic mixture of joy and anxiety."

He took a step backwards and, taking her hand in his, guided his bride to a cozy window seat, where they sat down, and she, to his delight, curled up next to him, her head against his chest and his arm around her.

"You can change anything you wish in these rooms," he said.

She nestled a little closer and said drowsily, "I might change a few things eventually, but I am in no great hurry. I married you because I love you, Fitzwilliam, not your money."

He could not help but tighten his grip at these words, suddenly too emotional to speak.

He truly was the most fortunate man in England to have found and won Elizabeth as his bride, despite his own shortcomings. His precious wife loved him , not his money or connections or his grand estate. He could not be more thankful for his cousin, Richard, who had encouraged him to set aside his foolish pride and pursue her. They had been married for only a few days, and already he could not imagine spending his life without her.

He leaned back against the window seat cushion and closed his eyes, suddenly fatigued. It had been an incredibly active few days, and the upcoming week would be laborious as well.

It was frustrating, certainly; what he really wanted to do was to hide in Darcy House for a full fortnight with his beloved bride, but he needed to deal with Lady Catherine, and help Mary Bennet, and...

A soft snore interrupted him, and he suppressed a chuckle. She was exhausted – of course she was – but to have her fall asleep in his very arms? It was such a vulnerable thing to do, and he hoped that it meant that she trusted him to care for her, to keep her safe.

He hoped that she did, because he loved her to the ends of the earth, and he would do everything in his power to protect her and her family.

That would, he knew, require money and time and energy, but he would do anything for his darling.

/

Breakfast Parlor

Darcy House

The Next Morning

Darcy carried a cup of tea to his new bride, who was seated at the small breakfast table heartily partaking of toast, eggs, ham, and fruit.

"Thank you," she said and cast such a flirtatious smile in his direction that he felt his cheeks flush and his heart beat faster. To think that he had considered giving up true love and, yes, passion, to marry a woman of high society? He shuddered at the thought of missing out on a life spent with Elizabeth.

"I do hope your sister does not mind being thrown out of her very home," Elizabeth said a moment later, and now her tone concerned.

"Georgiana and Mrs. Annesley will be far better off at Matlock House, my dear. She is very fond of Lady Matlock and her female Fitzwilliam cousins, and we are newly married, after all. Aside from the pressing business with Lady Catherine and Wickham, I intend to devote my attentions to you in the near future."

Elizabeth blushed and said, "I am looking forward to time with you as well, and in any case, Georgiana and I will have many happy times together at Pemberley this coming autumn."

The door opened at this juncture, and the butler entered, provoking expectant looks from both Darcys.

"Sir, Madam, Miss Anne de Bourgh, Lord Matlock, and Colonel Fitzwilliam have arrived and wish to speak to you when you are available."

"Thank you," Darcy said and turned an absurdly pitiful face on his wife as the man retreated out of the room. "I was hoping that you and I would be able to spend at least the hours before noon enjoying one another's company without distraction."

"We will have days and weeks and months and years together, my love," Elizabeth said.

This was, of course, the perfect thing to say, and Darcy grinned at her and applied himself to his meal.

/

Study

Darcy House

Half an Hour Later

Elizabeth gazed around in approval as she sank into a seat near the cold fireplace. Her husband's study was a masculine room, with a heavy oak desk and sturdy chairs. It also included a bookcase with a great many leather backed tomes, all with titles mentioning agriculture or business or law. It was not at all light reading, but Elizabeth enjoyed expanding her knowledge and looked forward to the day when she could curl up and read about farming practices or famous court proceedings or something of the sort.

At the moment, however, such charming daydreams needed to be set aside in favor of urgent and unpleasant business. She watched as Darcy took the chair behind his desk and then looked at their three guests. Anne de Bourgh had taken a chair, but both the earl and his son remained standing.

"Assuming you both are in agreement, we will be sending Lady Catherine north to Silvendale," Matlock said flatly.

Elizabeth cast a confused look at her husband, who explained, "Silvendale is one of the earl's subsidiary estates and is in Yorkshire."

"It is far from any large town," the earl continued, "and my servants are entirely loyal to me."

"It sounds like a perfect situation, but I cannot imagine her assent to such a thing," Darcy said.

"The choice is not hers to make," his uncle said. "I have no intention of permitting her to destroy the reputation of not only the de Bourghs, but the Matlocks and Darcys and Bennets as well. With her own mouth, she confessed to hiring a villain to kidnap your sister, Mrs. Darcy. Indeed, when I visited her in her sitting room earlier this morning, she boasted of her cleverness in arranging the whole affair."

"Did she say how she learned about Wickham's imprisonment in Marshalsea?" Elizabeth asked.

"She sent a loyal servant to Meryton some weeks ago, and the man spent many hours paying for drinks in your local pub. He learned about Wickham's arrest for indebtedness and his detainment in Marshalsea, and he faithfully sent that information to Lady Catherine, who proceeded to arrange for Wickham's release. She even met with Wickham in the City to hand over the necessary monies which provided for Wickham and his accomplices."

Elizabeth's eyes flashed fire. "I still cannot believe she would do such a thing to my poor sister!"

"Lady Catherine is entirely selfish, Elizabeth," Anne said in an exasperated tone.

"If Elizabeth approves of this plan, I do as well," Darcy said, looking over at his wife, who nodded and said, "I think Yorkshire is a reasonable place for Lady Catherine to live out her years. As angry as I am over her treatment of my family in general and Mary in particular, I do not wish Lady Catherine to waste away in Bedlam, if for no other reason than it would be scandalous."

"Then that is what we will do," Matlock said in a relieved tone.

"Excellent," Richard said with a firm nod. "Now that my aunt's fate is sealed, we need to speak further of Rosings, and Wickham, and Mrs. Younge and her brother, and Miss Mary's reputation."

"Let me mend my pen and write down our thoughts," Darcy suggested.