“Will, let me caution you. You should not give Elizabeth a letter that you wrote while you were still so angry. Wait until you get to London. Once you place the facts before her, they will speak to the justice of your argument. You do not wish to give offense when none is necessary.”

“Give offense? Me? If you heard the things she said, you would not concern yourself with her feelings. And you are right; I am angry. Is she so gullible that she was willing to believe every word that came from the lips of someone whom she had not known a week earlier? Did she not think it inappropriate that a stranger should share such personal information? I was so taken aback by her accusations regarding Wickham that I could hardly remain composed enough to say something civil before leaving.”

“That is exactly my point. Miss Elizabeth was so very angry with you because of your interference in her sister’s affair that it was only natural that she would listen with prejudice to anything else you had to say. For your own sake, I suggest you not give her that letter. Remember, you might very well encounter her in society, and you may come to regret your actions.”

“There you are wrong, Anne. Our paths will never cross again. It was only because Bingley asked me to go to Netherfield Park before signing the lease that I met her at all. I went to the blasted dance in Meryton because Bingley would give me no peace. Do you think I am in the habit of running about the country attending local dances? Other than the annual Lambton harvest dance, I avoid dances held in assembly halls, inns, or barns.”

With that sarcastic statement, Anne knew there was nothing more to be said. He had been wounded by Elizabeth’s rejection, and he was striking out against the source of that hurt.

“Anne, my character demands that I refute these accusations. After tomorrow, I shall never see her again, but she will know the truth before I leave Kent.”

* * *

After Darcy returned to his room for the night, Anne thought about all that had happened between Will and Elizabeth and recognized that her cousin had got himself into a real mess. But Fitzwilliam Darcy was in love with Elizabeth Bennet, and Anne had seen real interest on Elizabeth’s part during their evenings together at Rosings Park, so something had to be done. Before retiring, she had settled on a course of action. It was as complicated as any battle plan, and it would take luck and timing to make it work. But her cousin’s happiness was at stake, and so she began to work out the details of her scheme.

Chapter 5

Mr. Darcy stood by the tall window of the second-floor library of Rosings Park. From this view, he could make out the cream stucco of Hunsford Lodge with its rust-colored roof and flower-lined walk. This was the only room in the manor house from which the parsonage could be seen, and Darcy was waiting for Elizabeth Bennet to return from her morning walk. As soon as he saw Elizabeth, he would know she had read the letter, and his reputation, at least with regards to Wickham, would be restored. How could it be otherwise? Her charges were not only wrong, but unjust.

Darcy paced back and forth in front of the window. Where was she? At the time Elizabeth had taken the letter from his hand, she had been walking in the lane reading a book. Was her interest in her book greater than the contents of his letter? Or was it Nature that beckoned her? Darcy knew of no other female who enjoyed the outdoors as much as she did, and her opinion was that it must be observed on foot. When he had asked if she knew how to ride, she had said that she did, but rode only when necessary and never for pleasure. Most likely, the horses she had ridden were ones that were chosen for their ability to pull a hay wagon. However, if she were to sit upon one of the fillies from the Pemberley stables, she would know the pure pleasure of riding a spirited animal and would come away with a very different opinion. He would have changed her mind.

On his morning rides, Darcy frequently saw Elizabeth walking with her bonnet in hand. When she caught sight of him, she had quickly returned the hat to its rightful place, but the evidence of outdoor exercise only highlighted the beauty of Elizabeth’s dark eyes and her animated expression when she saw something on her walks that delighted her.

But his mind returned to the letter. If Elizabeth had started reading his missive as soon as he had presented it to her, she would by now have read the part where he exposed Wickham’s immoral behavior. Darcy remembered the day when he had first seen Wickham in Meryton. His reaction was that there must be an unattached female in the neighborhood who was in possession of a large fortune. Why else would he be in a small market town, the usual attractions for a man of such low tastes being absent? There were no women of easy virtue to be had nor horse races to be run, and betting on a cockfight behind the village smithy would not have satiated his appetite for gambling. His disgust at seeing Wickham was further heightened when he saw Elizabeth talking to him. He was puzzled how someone with her keen intellect had not seen through his façade. But she did not know Wickham, and truth to tell, she did not know him either. He had revealed so little of himself in their conversations, and the tension that existed when they were together was such that it acted as a barrier to any greater intimacy between them.

But now that she had become acquainted with the truth, she would see him in a different light. She would know he had acted honorably, if unwisely, in seeing that Wickham received his full inheritance in one lump sum payment in order to be rid of him all the sooner. He had acted rashly there and should have known that any animal will return to the place where it has last eaten. What he did not anticipate was that his unctuous charm would play so well on the feelings of his sixteen-year-old sister. In hiding Wickham’s true nature from Georgiana, he had set the stage for Wickham’s attempted elopement.

Darcy did not wish to think of these things any longer. Once Elizabeth returned to Hunsford Lodge, he would be on the road to London. But where was she? She was now in possession of the letter long enough to have read through it several times. Was she chewing on each sentence as a dog would worry a bone? Or was she concentrating on the part that dealt with her beloved sister Jane?

Would Elizabeth’s judgment have been so harsh if she had known of the criticism he had endured when he had befriended Charles Bingley? His aunt, Lady Catherine, had made it clear that Bingley was not welcomed at Rosings. To her, he was the thin end of the wedge, a threat to her world, and she would not have a “nobody” dining at her table. Bingley, who had barely established his own place in society, might very well have sunk under the weight of an unfortunate marriage.

Anticipating that his aunt might send someone to look for him, Darcy had pulled a chair over to the window in such a way that a servant might come into the room without seeing him. He knew that there were those who would expose him, his aunt’s butler for one. Trent was a tired soul, and after having served Her Ladyship for thirty years, he was entitled to his peace and quiet and would have disrupted Darcy’s to achieve it.

Thoughts continued to swirl around in his mind. He now wondered if it had been wise to reveal in the letter that he had known of Miss Bennet being in London, but had deliberately kept that information from Bingley. Having been informed by Elizabeth that Miss Bennet cared deeply for his friend and that it was only her sense of modesty that had prevented a more open display of affection, he was uncomfortable with how forcefully he had pushed the matter to its conclusion.

Damnation! This might possibly have been avoided if Miss Bennet was as animated as her sister. If she had not sat there demurely with her hands folded in her lap, then surely it would not have been possible for Darcy to persuade his friend that the lady was not in love with him. It was difficult to imagine such a situation happening with Elizabeth. There was no guessing at her feelings. Her eyes revealed everything: the joy she experienced in dancing and being in the company of her friends, the annoyance she felt when asked to dance by Mr. Collins, and the puzzlement she showed when she danced with him at the Netherfield ball and tried to “take his likeness.” He saw something else again in her eyes yesterday when she had refused him. He saw the hurt she felt for her sister and her indignation at his supposed ill treatment of Wickham. Her anger was real and deep, and the contents of his letter may have caused further injury.

What would her eyes show now? Upon reflection, could she find any good in him, or had he left her with the impression that he was an unfeeling, boorish man? At that moment, he saw a flash of yellow, the color of her bonnet. As he had imagined, she was not wearing it, but held it in one hand and his letter in the other. He stood up and drew nearer to the window. This would be the last opportunity he would have to look upon the woman he had hoped to take as his bride. He would drink his fill, and then move on.

Elizabeth stood outside the parsonage, but did not go in. Instead, she sat on a bench outside the front door holding his letter to her breast and looking up at the sky as if to hold back her tears. She sat quietly for several moments, but then her gaze followed the contours of the hill leading to Rosings and the line of the house up to the window where Mr. Darcy stood. What was she thinking? If only he was closer, he could have looked into her eyes. Her eyes would have revealed everything.

Chapter 6

The morning after Mr. Darcy’s proposal, Elizabeth was able to leave Hunsford Lodge only after satisfying the Collinses that she was well enough to go on her morning walk. She was eager to get out of the house and away from her friend’s probing looks. Charlotte had seen Mr. Darcy leaving the parsonage the previous afternoon, but Lizzy had said nothing about his visit and had kept to her room after supper. She intended to share what had happened with Charlotte, but not now. She needed time alone to think.

To silence Mr. Collins and hasten her escape, Lizzy mentioned that she wished to begin the study of Fordyce’s Sermons. Mr. Collins had made a gift of the book earlier in the week when he came upon her reading a novel, a book he considered inappropriate for an unmarried woman to be reading without the supervision and guidance of her father. He would have been appalled to learn that she had read Tom Jones and Tristram Shandy in the library at Longbourn without any supervision and at the recommendation of her father. Finally, after multiple assurances regarding her health, the weather, distances, etc., she was allowed to leave the parsonage and immediately went in search of a place where she could reflect upon the events of the previous day.

Rosings Park had beautiful vistas at every turn, but Lizzy’s favorite was where woods and pastureland met. The contrast of the dark greens of the forest and the lush bright greens of the pastures made it a favorite stop, and at this slice of Eden, the de Bourghs had placed stone benches paralleling the path. It was the perfect place for reflection, but she was not to be alone this morning, as sitting on one of the benches was Mr. Darcy. It was too late to turn away because he had already seen her, so she pretended to be engrossed in her book so he might pretend not to have noticed her. But she soon realized his being in this particular spot was no accident. He quickly approached, and after asking her to do him the honor of reading his letter, he just as quickly departed.

After seeing Mr. Darcy well down the lane, Lizzy turned her full attention to his letter, and after finishing it, had to restrain herself from tearing it to shreds and scattering it to the winds. What pride and insolence! His purpose was clear: He wished to put behind him forever all memories of the scene at Hunsford Lodge. In this, they were in complete agreement. His words still echoed in her mind: how he had struggled to overcome his feelings for her, the inferiority of her connections, rejoicing in his success in separating Bingley from Jane, her pride, his shame. But before he could close the door on this chapter of his life, he demanded her attention one last time in order to justify his actions and refute her assertions.

For several minutes, Lizzy watched as a hundred black-faced sheep moved into the glade with three border collies nipping at their heels. The shepherd walked behind the flock, leaving the dogs to do their work. Was there such a view at Pemberley? Of course there was. The landed gentry and aristocracy all had the same things: great houses with portrait galleries and magnificent art, ballrooms and music rooms, gazebos and terraces, lower gardens, upper gardens, servants in livery behind every door. Yes, she could easily picture such a scene at Pemberley. And to think she might have been mistress of such an estate. Lizzy, who loved to laugh at the ridiculous, might have seen the humor in all of this if her emotions were not so raw.