In a Prudential Light, Chapter Six

Sincere apologies for the long delay between chapters! Life is nuts, but I'm really enjoying writing this story, and particularly looking forward to hearing what you all think of this chapter - the Huntsford "proposal" at last!

Chapter Six

Darcy stormed into his rooms at Rosings, still breathing hard from an afternoon of strenuous riding. He impatiently removed riding boots, coat, and other accouterments before loosening his neck cloth and pouring himself a large glass of water from the pitcher on the dressing table. Disregarding the water almost as soon as it was poured, he moved to the window and stood looking distractedly out at the grounds below.

He would never be free of her.

Yes, her rank in society was well beneath his own. Yes, her relations were tolerable at best and either unspeakably embarrassing or dead at worst. Yes, she had hardly a penny to her name. And yes, she was a married woman. Married to a husband determined to prove himself the most preening sycophant ever to draw breath.

But she remained the central fixture of his mind, heart, and desires all the same. Her fine, dark eyes, now sadder, more knowing, and less merry than they were in Hertfordshire; her captivating smile and rich, now rare, laugher; her lovely form. These impediments had only done more to increase his yearning for her and his intention to do what he could to free her from the confines of circumstance.

And he was certain now, as he had not been in Hertfordshire, that she was not ignorant of these feelings in him, that —heaven help him— she might even return some of them. The many long looks that had passed between them since his arrival in Kent, the bloom in her face and confusion in her eyes that always followed, the manner in which she spoke to him and allowed him to speak to her when they were alone—the moment in woods when she’d let him seize her hand and had not pulled away.

But these feelings could never be spoken between them. For the sake of her honor, as well as his, he must remain silent.

On the subject of her family still at Longbourn, however, Darcy would not be bullied by propriety into inaction. Mr. Collins had already proven himself to be a self-interested nincompoop of the first order, easily persuaded by his equally self-interested patroness to act in any selfish manner he liked. Elizabeth was right to worry that her ridiculous husband would eventually be persuaded by Lady Catherine to disregard the interests of the Bennet women and his promises to them in favor of preserving his own personal wealth from the estate.

Darcy had begun to formulate a plan to help the Bennet women almost the moment Elizabeth had revealed to him her misgivings on the subject of her husband’s promises. Feeling unable to focus on any other task until he could speak with her, he consulted the clock.

Just after four o’clock. Mr. Collins would likely be from home at this time of day, and he might just catch her alone. And if not, even the presence of Jane Bennet would not be detrimental to his object. He would be on his way as soon as he’d found a fresh shirt.

---

Elizabeth returned to the parsonage after her walk with Colonel Fitzwilliam, feeling vaguely as though she moved through a fog. The true import of the information he had shared with her seemed to be hovering somewhere at the edge of her thoughts, just beyond her grasp, but a wave of fresh weariness upon entering her husband’s house made it impossible to give it her full consideration.

On her writing desk in the sitting room was a note from Jane, explaining that she had gone with Mr. Collins on an urgent call to a sick parishioner. The lady, who Elizabeth vaguely remembered meeting once or twice at the church, was a sickly widow in whose care resided her four orphaned grandchildren, and who lived on the farthest outskirts of the village. Jane, immensely fond of children as well as skilled in their care, had accompanied her brother-in-law to occupy the little ones and give their longsuffering grandmother respite.

Elizabeth, too overcome to be truly useful, was glad that saintly Jane had been at hand when the summons arrived.

Saintly Jane.

The subject of her sister’s genuinely selfless spirit brought her conversation with the Colonel freshly to mind. She could hardly bear to think of it, but the memory of his words rose up against her will.

How could he do it? That Mr. Darcy should think himself such a superior judge of Mr. Bingley’s best interest as to separate a man so obviously in love from the dearest, most beautiful girl in the world! Hateful man! She had been wrong to entertain the idea that his character was not so cold nor so proud as she once imagined – if anything, the Colonel’s account proved it was more so.

And how dare he pretend whilst in Kent to be anything more than the dismantler of her sister’s happiness? Yet despite all this he had the arrogance, if Jane’s suspicions were correct, to entertain tender feelings for a married woman whose own sister was the very bride he had deemed unsuitable for his friend, and to attempt to earn her friendship and regard while concealing the truth of his past interference. Why had she allowed herself to soften toward him, even for a moment? Such weakness on her part, such hypocrisy on his!

To think these impediments may have even cost Elizabeth her own freedom – that had Darcy refrained from persuading Bingley against Jane, Bingley might have married her and provided for her family as a proper, loving son-in-law would be only too happy to do after the death of his beloved wife’s father. There would have been no reason left to compel Elizabeth to accept Mr. Collins.

But it was too late. Elizabeth felt an angry helplessness rise within her, fighting the pangs of her own disappointed hopes as well as regrets for her sister. Far too late.

Just as she was pushing these extremely unpleasant and painful thoughts from her mind, she was roused by the sound of the doorbell, and her spirits were a little fluttered by the idea of its being Colonel Fitzwilliam himself, coming to reiterate his apologies. But this idea was soon banished, and her spirits were very differently affected, when she saw Mr. Darcy himself walk into the room.

She was so astonished to see him, that at first she forgot her anger. His manner was abrupt and strangely formal – he hardly looked at her as he entered the room. An uncertain silence extended between them. Elizabeth, remembering her displeasure after the initial moment of surprise, regarded him with an arched brow, and was determined that he should speak first.

“Good evening, madam,” he said presently, still standing rather rigidly in the center of the room.

“Sir,” Elizabeth returned shortly.

A flicker of confusion crossed his countenance at the coldness in her tone, but then the apparent import of whatever it was he had come to say seemed to possess him again, and he continued.

“I hope I find you well this evening. I come, in fact, to speak to you on a matter of business—that is, a kind of business.” He paused, as if expecting her to wonder aloud what sort of business he might possibly need to discuss with her, but she remained silent. Mildly surprised at her apparent lack of curiosity but not deterred, he soldered on. “I found myself troubled by what you told me the other day — of your concern for the continued comfort and support of your family in Hertfordshire.”

“. . . . yes?”

“As your family has so lately suffered the untimely death of your good father, your friends must naturally be concerned that your mother and sisters should not be in any danger of additional distress— in difficulties of a financial nature.”

He paused again, looking to her for any reaction – still she was silent. He shifted his weight uncomfortably from one side to the other and played with the signet ring on his left hand, debating how to proceed. The interview was not progressing in the manner he had anticipated. “You must forgive me for speaking so plainly, but I hope my motives will exonerate me. Being a man of some means, I find myself in the fortunate position of being at liberty to assist my friends on occasion when such help would be beneficial.”

In spite of herself, this assertion had Elizabeth genuinely surprised and bewildered – was he really offering her family financial assistance, outright? And after his dealings with Jane and Bingley? Why? “I do not understand, sir” she began, in a voice much flatter and softer than her usual tone. “Your generosity does you credit, I’m sure, but I cannot see what it has to do with us.”

Darcy sighed impatiently – surely she must grasp his meaning? There was nothing for it – he respected her too much to be anything less than perfectly clear. “I came to bring you the following proposal, madam: I am prepared to set aside a quarterly allowance for your mother and any of your sisters, so long as they remain unmarried. The allowance might be as much as is required for them to live on (at Longbourn or elsewhere), or as little as may nevertheless add meaningfully to their comfort. I have already written to my solicitor (quite discretely) to inquire how such a thing might be accomplished, and he has informed me of what may be done – all subject, naturally, to your approval. Everything would be handled with the upmost discretion. Indeed, Mr. Collins need not be troubled with these matters at all. You and I and my solicitor would have complete authority to manage distributions to your family, as circumstances warrant.” He paused briefly, then added, “The proposal is unorthodox, to be sure, of that I am well aware – but nevertheless, it would give me great satisfaction to be of use to you in this way.”

The speech was delivered while meeting her gaze fully and directly, and she, returning the intensity of his looks, scrutinized his every word as he spoke. When he had finished, they continued to regard each other silently in the same manner. Her expression was neutral, and except for the faint flush he detected in her cheek and down her neck, her reaction was inscrutable to him.

Nearly a full minute passed before she spoke. Her voice was low, but firm.

“So we are to accept your charity, then.”

“No, indeed. Not charity, madam– assistance . . . from– from a friend.”

“A friend!” replied Elizabeth, unable to disguise the incredulity in her voice. His unexpected generosity both confused and enraged her. How dare he be so magnanimous when she was now more than ever determined to dislike him? And could his motives be innocent? What exactly did he expect in return for this both generous and surreptitious gift to her family, who in reality were nothing to him? What did he expect from her? She met his eyes, raising her chin. “Are you my friend, sir?”

He seemed genuinely injured by her tone and took a little step back. “I have no intention to offend you. These last few weeks, I thought— we were coming to understand each other.”

Elizabeth rose abruptly from her seat, and going to the window turned her back to him. “I am sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Darcy, but I find I do not understand you at all. You speak of friendship though we hardly know each other.”

His voice took on a solemn tone. “Our acquaintance has not been long, it is true. But surely you and I have grown in mutual respect and admiration since being in Kent together?”

Darcy’s words made her color rise and her heart pound, but her ire only grew with this proof of his effect on her. “Oh I see. And was it an act of friendship when you separated Charles Bingley from my sister Jane?”

He stared at her blankly a moment, as if failing to comprehend her words.

“Do you think that any consideration would tempt me to accept such concessions from a man who has been the means of ruining, perhaps forever, the happiness of a beloved sister? Can you deny that you have done it?”

His expression changed then from confusion to incredulity. How could she have known such a thing– Fitzwilliam? Interfering idiot. He paced about the room for a moment, growing irritated. “I have no wish to deny it!” he said, color rising. “I did take pains to separate my friend from your sister, and I rejoice in my success. Bingley’s interests I have guarded more carefully than my own. Interests which I now freely sacrifice in service of the same lady you accuse me of injuring!”

Elizabeth would not let him off so easily. “How kind of you, sir, to remove Jane from the care of a loving husband but to provide remuneration for her disappointment.”

“Madam, I protest –”

“But it is not merely that on which my dislike of you was founded. My opinion of you was formed when Mr. Wickham told me of your dealings with him.”

Darcy received her reference to George Wickham with nothing short of shock and dismay. Their exchange had taken an unexpected and thoroughly unwelcome turn. Would Wickham force his way into every aspect, no matter how sacred, of Darcy’s life? He found himself growing angry and continuing to pace about her sitting room. “Mr. Wickham? You take an eager interest in that gentleman’s concerns.”

“Who that knows what his misfortunes have been can help feeling an interest in him?”

“His misfortunes! Yes, his misfortunes have been great indeed.”

“And of your infliction. You have reduced him to his present state of poverty, and yet you can speak of his misfortunes with contempt and ridicule!”

He continued to stalk around the room, starring at the carpet, unable to believe what he was hearing. After a time, he forced himself to halt, face her, and begin, “And this is your opinion of me. I might wonder why, with so little effort at civility, my offer is thus rejected.”

“And I might wonder why, with such an evident design to offend and insult me, you chose to tell me you would help us in secret, without consulting my husband or trusting him to provide as he promised, and against your better judgment! Was that not some excuse for incivility if I was uncivil?”

Darcy shook his head, meeting her defiant look with his own disbelieving one. “Come, madam, you discredit us both – you know you do! I offer you my help out of that mutual friendship and respect we have come to entertain for each other. You know it is so, though you do your best to bait and torture me now.” His expression softened in spite of his ire. “Indeed, I would do more if circumstance allowed me! I beg you would let me to do this much.”

Elizabeth turned quite pale at this declaration, but something drove her to continue her questions. Her voice was thick with anger and a strange anticipation. “Why should you do anything for me at all?”

This was impossible. “Damn it, Elizabeth. You know only too well how much I love you.”

A curious woman by nature as well as a passionate one, Elizabeth had often wondered what it would be like to kiss a man. Marriage had thus far kept her in ignorance, but when she found herself suddenly flying into Darcy’s arms and kissing his mouth as if tomorrow would never come, her previous speculations paled in comparison to the feelings that overcame her now.

His body was warm and masculine against hers, his smell like deep woods and open air. And the tender way his hand cupped her jawline as his lips caressed hers made her cling more tightly to the bit of his waistcoat she clutched with both hands in her distraction. Good god, he was everything.

For his part, Darcy could not be sure who began the kiss – whether he, she, or both of them – but now she was in his arms, returning his ardor with an abandon that at once astonished and exhilarated him, he had no desire to ever stop. He would kiss her as long as she returned it, and damn everyone else.

But at last reason, and concern for Elizabeth, forbid him to indulge his passion devoid of consideration forever. He broke the kiss, valiantly resisting her as she craned her neck forward to meet his lips again. Instead he rested his forehead against hers, reaching up to hold her flushed face reverently between his hands, both for the joy of her soft skin against his palms and in an attempt to keep them from losing their heads again. Both were breathing hard, and neither seemed entirely capable of speech. Unable to stop himself, he ran his thumb affectionately over her top lip while he caught his breath.

“You said I was only tolerable.”

“Pardon?”

“The night we met – at the Assembly Ball. You told Bingley I was only tolerable.”

In spite of himself and the emotion of the moment, Darcy found a chuckle rising from his throat. “Did I indeed? Than I was a miserable fool, and I beg your forgiveness.”

She looked up into his face and allowed herself a small smile, catching her bottom lip loosely with her teeth. “How long?”

“How long what?”

“You know.”

He sighed, searching her eyes. “I cannot fix the hour, or the spot, or the words – it was all too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew I had begun.”

This answer apparently pleased her, for her smile widened and her eyes flashed with the good humor he so well remembered from Hertfordshire. “Did you admire me for my impertinence?”

“For the liveliness of your mind, I did.”

She sighed and looked down at the floor. “That girl seems such a stranger to me now – so much has happened.”

He felt real sadness for her then. Her entire life had changed so drastically in so very short a period, and none of it at her own volition. Taking her chin in his hand, he gently directed her gaze back to meet his. “I know your situation at present is— trying. I cannot promise you much, though I wish to God I could. But —in the meantime— please let me help your family, Elizabeth.”

A small, half sigh, half cry escaped the back of her throat, and tears flooded her eyes. Before either of them knew it, their lips were meeting again —and again and again— as they clung to each other with a fervor unique to unhappy lovers. They must have carried on this way for minutes, until the sound of the parish front door opening and voices in the hall signaled the end of their privacy.

“My dear!” shouted Mr. Collins from the entry, as he struggled with removing his overcoat and delivering it into the hands of the housemaid. “On the gracious prompting of Lady Catherine, your good sister and I have been to minister to the Smith family’s needs. Her ladyship would have gone herself with Miss de Bourgh and a basket, had not Miss de Bourgh herself been so very delicate and prone to disease.”

At the sound of her husband’s voice from the other room, Elizabeth wrenched herself from Darcy’s arms, turning away abruptly in an attempt to collect herself in the few precious moments before others entered the room. Her entire body throbbed along with her pounding heart, and tears still hovered at the corners of her eyes. She straightening her dress and dabbed at her face, hoping to catch her breath before her husband and sister could see her.

“Ah, Mr. Darcy,” said Collins, as he entered the sitting room. “I see we have the pleasure of your company again. Very condescending, I am sure.”

Much affected himself, and deeply concerned for whatever it was that Elizabeth must be feeling in the moment, Darcy had no wish to make pleasant conversation with the idiot husband of the woman he loved.

“Mr. Darcy was just going, Mr. Collins,” interjected Elizabeth in a remarkably steady voice, before Darcy was even able to formulate a reply. Then she noticed her sister’s absence. “Did not Jane go with you?”

“Indeed she did, my dear, but decided just before we were to turn down the lane to the parsonage that she would extend her walk to take the benefit of the evening air. Lady Catherine is always encouraging young ladies to strengthen their constitutions by the liberal exercise of their— ”

“My dear, I’m afraid you detain Mr. Darcy. He only came to return a book from your study, and as he and the Colonel are to leave Kent very soon, her ladyship is most eager for his return to Rosings this evening.”

As usual, Mr. Collins was greatly distressed at even the remote suggestion that his actions could inconvenience or displease her ladyship. “Yes, yes, of course! How could I have thoughtlessly kept you even this long? You must go at once, sir, at once!”

Though never anxious to quit Elizabeth’s side, the situation at present was growing quickly unbearable, and Darcy found himself suddenly and keenly impatient to be gone. With one last long glance at Elizabeth, which she stubbornly refused to return, Darcy bowed abruptly to Collins, and silently took his leave.

“I do hope Lady Catherine will not be too cross with me for detaining Mr. Darcy unduly just now,” said Mr. Collins, when his wife’s visitor had gone. “How careless of me not to realize! Her ladyship is always impressing on me the importance of punctuality . . .”

“My dear, I feel quite tired this evening. I believe I should retire to my room to rest before dinner.”

Hearing something strange in her voice, Mr. Collins, in a rare moment, really looked at his wife. “Are you quite well, Elizabeth? You look very pale.”

“I shall be quite alright. It’s only a headache. It will pass, and I’m sure more speedily in quiet and solitude.”

“Then you must rest. I think. . . just to be sure, I will pen a quick note to her ladyship, and send it with the errand boy, begging her pardon for the delay of her nephew this evening, when she was particularly eager to see him. . . ” He trailed off as he retired to his study, his wife’s wellbeing all but forgotten as he turned his attention to formulating a superfluous apology to his patroness.

Exhausted and heartsick, Elizabeth, doing her best to think of nothing at all, readily left the scene of the afternoon’s turmoil, and wearily climbed the steps to her room.