Page 23 of A Hopeless Business
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
R ichard and Darcy always breakfasted together at Rosings—alone, thankfully, for Anne and Lady Catherine despised the morning sun and always took trays in their rooms. Their aunt rarely emerged from hers until noon, making mornings the best part of the men’s day.
It meant they must get through only this afternoon and evening in her company, for they had decided after the events of last night that they would leave Rosings tomorrow—four days earlier than previously announced—with Elizabeth and Miss Lucas in Darcy’s carriage; their trunks would be stowed with the men’s luggage in the post carriage. Darcy had completed enough of the estate business he had planned on; after Lady Catherine’s behaviour towards Elizabeth, his aunt would have to apply to the earl for any further assistance. Darcy would have effort enough simply to sit with her at dinner and remain civil .
Now it was past noon, and eager to avoid Lady Catherine when she descended the stairs and expected to be waited upon, they mounted their horses. Richard agreed to ride to Westerham to deliver papers to Goodbody, the solicitor there, while Darcy went in search of Elizabeth. Although she had been calm, her equanimity seeming to relax as they had walked to the parsonage last evening, he was dismayed to find she had not walked out this morning—at least not on any of the paths he knew she frequented. He needed to see her, hold her. Most likely, he would accomplish only the former, but seeing her and hearing further assurances of the humours within the parsonage would do wonders for his equanimity. Collins could not turn him away, nor keep Elizabeth from speaking to him.
Let him try.
His horse was as restless as he, and he gave him free throttle to canter down Rosings’s gravel drive, across its manicured gardens, and into the open fields. The formal landscape made him ache for the natural, untamed beauty of Pemberley. Of course, when after a quarter hour of exercise, he still had not caught sight of the beauty he truly yearned to see, he steered his horse towards the parsonage.
Suddenly there was a cry and a flash of white flew into his path. Yanking the reins, he pulled Apollo to the right, slowing him as he shouted. When he turned back, Miss Lucas was there, trembling and gasping, covered in dust.
“Good lord, Miss Lucas, did you not hear my horse? You could have been badly hurt. ”
The girl was breathing so hard, Darcy feared he might have instead scared her into apoplexy. He jumped down from his saddle. “Miss Lucas? Are you hurt?”
“No! Please, Mr Darcy,” she panted. “I came in search of you... it is Lizzy. Mr Collins read my letters, he knows she must marry the next man who asks, and he has taken her with him...there is a man, I think, he plans to force her to accept. It is all my fault for speaking last night?—”
“A man? Where has he taken her?”
“In...in the meadow between the parsonage and Rosings.”
“You are a good girl. Go to your sister, and remain in the house.” He threw himself back onto Apollo. “Have faith, all will be well.”
His words were as much for himself and Elizabeth as for Miss Lucas. Darcy rode quickly towards the meadow, a deep dip below a small hill he had often rolled down as a child before plucking flowers for his mother. It took only moments to reach it, and to see Elizabeth standing between Mr Collins and another man. At his approach, he could see the alarm in Elizabeth’s expression, and she broke away and ran towards him. He slid off his mount and reached to pull her into his arms. “You are well?” She nodded, pale but her eyes flashed with anger.
Quickly, he stepped towards Collins, whose contorted, sickly expression made it appear he was in need of a chamber-pot. The second man was at least twice his age—likely even older than Mr Bennet. He was rough around the edges, clad in worn clothing and scuffed boots, and appeared disinterested in Darcy’s arrival. Dick Brown, he recalled, who lived in what had once been the Sommer farm.
“Collins,” he said sharply, his eyes narrowed. “Brown. Why are you here, now ?”
Brown shrugged and pointed at Collins, who sputtered, “I-I was merely introducing Cousin Elizabeth to a parishioner.”
“Introducing? Here? Odd spot for a fortuitous meeting. Mere serendipity?”
“Not at all.” Elizabeth’s voice trembled, but it seemed more with anger than fear. “Mr Collins forbade me from leaving the grounds of the parsonage today, likely to ensure I was easily found when Mr Brown appeared. Mr Collins told him he was to marry me.”
“Is this true, Collins?” The vicar appeared ready to faint. “Speak up, man, with the truth!”
“S-she must wed. Her father commands it. Lady Catherine wished to ensure it.”
“Lady Catherine! What has she to do with it?”
Collins appeared unable to confess, but his fellow schemer was happy to supply an answer. “I were promised fifty pounds to marry ’er.”
“Lady Catherine wished to buy me a husband?” Darcy felt Elizabeth sag and pulled her closer.
Brown shrugged. “Me wife died and I need a new one to cook fer me. You sings nice, too.”
“One may not buy a wife, nor is a wife meant to be your servant,” Darcy growled. “Miss Bennet is the daughter of a gentleman and you will stay away from her.”
When Brown’s eyes swept over Elizabeth, Darcy took a step towards him, his fists clenched. “It is a shame you lost your wife, but be gone now, else you may lose your tenancy as well. My aunt’s promise is null and you had best leave before you are as dishonoured as this man of the cloth.”
Brown startled. “But Mr Collins?—”
“Collins is a fool. Rosings’s business, accounts and tenancy are determined by my pen—Lady Catherine depends on it, as does the local magistrate.”
Brown looked at Collins, who nodded feebly. “His duty as her nephew and future son.”
Darcy held his tongue until Brown, spewing curses and spittle, stormed off. Then, the anger he had not spent on the ignorant farmer was turned on Collins. “I have never struck a man of the cloth, but I am sorely tempted to do so.”
“As am I,” said Elizabeth.
“No!” Collins stumbled backwards; Darcy caught him by his jacket and held it firmly as he loomed over the cowering fool.
“You will listen to me, and take heed of my words, else your lack of prudence, wisdom, and godliness will be your doom. Do you understand what you have done? Taking Miss Elizabeth against her will, against all decency, to attempt to marry her to a stranger? I could have you thrown in gaol!”
“No! Lady Catherine said?—”
“You are a servant of God, not of Lady Catherine! Nor are you Miss Bennet’s father nor acting on his wishes! You hold no standing with Miss Bennet, to command her behaviour or to order her to marry. You have behaved so abominably to her, she who has been nothing but gracious and kind to all she meets! Even after rejecting you and forced to run away from your unwanted affections, she ensured your well-being when you were injured. And yet still you blasphemed her character. You deserve no decency from her, no respect from your parishioners nor your wife. You will apologise to Miss Bennet. And you will never again speak of my business, nor that of Miss de Bourgh, to whom I am not engaged nor ever will be.”
“But—”
“ Now .”
Collins swallowed and looked at Elizabeth. “I apologise for my misunderstanding—I only hoped to ensure you were soundly wed before returning home.” He turned back to Darcy. “My cousin Bennet demanded she make a marriage to whichever suitor proposed, and Lady Catherine feared her arts and allurements would compel you or Colonel Fitzwilliam into a foolish engagement.”
“Ha,” Darcy clapped his fist, compelling a flinch from the quaking vicar.
“How could you!” Elizabeth cried. “Your anger over my refusal gives you no right to the business of my life.”
“You wear the collar, but you fail to honour the word and spirit of our Lord. You should be ashamed. Go home to your wife. She is a woman of sense, and it is she you should listen to, not Lady Catherine. You have the living, which she cannot revoke. Let grace and sense guide your conscience, else you will find yourself shunned even by God.”
“The living... It is secure? Neither she nor you can withdraw it?”
Darcy rolled his eyes in disgust. “Tempted as I am to do so, the living is yours until you choose to leave it, or land in gaol. Listen to your wife, not my aunt. You could not find a better, more rational companion than Mrs Collins.”
“Thank you, Mr Darcy. I apologise for my husband’s dreadful error in judgment.” Mrs Collins stood behind them, hand in hand with Miss Lucas, their faces ashen. She looked at Elizabeth and her face crumpled. “Oh Lizzy! I am so sorry!”
Elizabeth moved quickly to her, enfolding her in a hug. Darcy could not hear what was said, but when they separated, they exchanged a warm, if sorrowful, look.
“Come, Mr Collins. We must go home now.” Mrs Collins waited expectantly before her husband began trudging towards her, his shoulders slumped. Miss Lucas looked back, her large eyes wider than usual.
Elizabeth let out a sigh, and then laughed sadly. “I wish to go home, too.”
Her beleaguered expression tugged at something within him, an ache where he had not known there was feeling. Darcy inhaled deeply, calming his anger, as he thought of what to say. His breathing evened as he watched her, her gaze lifting to the clear blue sky, its bright sun reflecting in eyes laced with long dark lashes. When she felt his stare and turned towards him, he looked to the ground, desperate to hold and comfort her. Her proximity had sent his pulse surging, and though he could pretend his heightened colour was due to his anger, he could not halt his quickened breath.
“Elizabeth.”
Quietly, he linked their arms, enfolding her hand within his as he tightly twined their fingers together in a firm grip. For a second, he studied their hands, unsure of where her fingers ended and his began, so entangled was his hold. It felt so right, so comforting, the way his hand completely engulfed hers.
“I know a place.”