Page 54 of A Rational Man (Pride and Prejudice Variation)

T he following day, Mr. Darcy felt it necessary to speak to Anne privately; he had intended to write to her after his blunt letter to Lady Catherine stating that he would never marry Anne, but he had not managed to do so.

He found her in the drawing room, sitting beside Mrs. Jenkinson. He considered asking Mrs. Jenkinson to leave the room, but there was a risk that she would immediately run to Lady Catherine and declare that a proposal was being issued, so he decided to let her remain.

“Anne, may we speak for a few minutes?”

Anne, who had been staring into the fire, turned to her cousin. “Of course, Fitzwilliam.”

“Anne, last year I received a rather direct letter from your mother, demanding that we marry as soon as may be. I replied equally directly, saying that I would not marry you. I feel I must apologise for having expressed myself so strongly and perhaps rudely.”

“No, you were not rude; you expressed yourself strongly, but there is no other way to make my mother understand.”

“You read the letter?”

“Yes, both hers and yours. I begged her not to send her letter, as I knew we would not marry, but she insisted upon doing so. It should be me apologising, cousin, for not having done more to stop her.”

“Anne, you know that I like you…”

“Of course, and I like you. But we do not love one another, and it is only rational to marry for love if it is at all possible.”

Mr. Darcy stared at his cousin. “Rational to marry for love?” he repeated.

“Yes, certainly. If one is to spend one’s life with another person, is it not in every way sensible to strive for the most convivial union possible? And what better way to accomplish that than to love, very deeply, one’s marital partner?”

“I never thought of it in such a manner,” he said, blankly.

Anne leaned forward. “Fitzwilliam, I have had the opportunity to see a marriage without love; my mother married my father for his title, and possibly because she had few other options. He proposed only because he needed her dowry. They spoke with one another rarely, and lived separate lives in every way. On the other hand, I recall your parents, who treated one another gently and with consideration, and whose faces glowed with light upon beholding the other. Would it not be sensible – rational, if you prefer the word – to choose the latter union?”

Mr. Darcy stared at Anne for a long minute. Seeing her become uncomfortable under his gaze, he averted his eyes. “Have you any interest in someone yourself, Anne?”

“Me? Hardly. Who would I meet, after all, given that I never leave Rosings?”

“Your mother should take you to Town for a Season.”

Anne shrugged. “That will never happen.”

“But why?”

“It is hard to understand what motivates Mother; I suspect that she retains the illusion of having some influence in the ton , and knows she would be sorely disillusioned were she to actually go to Town.”

“I wish I could give you a Season, cousin.”

Anne laughed. “Find yourself a wife, and then she may sponsor me. I would accept your hospitality gladly, I assure you.”

Find himself a wife…find himself a wife!

That was exactly what he intended to do.

He now understood that marrying for love was rational.

How had it taken him so long to understand that?

He had observed his parents’ marriage, of course, but he had never stopped to consider upon what their happiness was based.

“There you are, Darcy! I thought to go riding; will you accompany me?”

Mr. Darcy rose with alacrity. “I would be delighted, Richard. I must change clothes; wait for me, will you?”

Colonel Fitzwilliam strode into the drawing room, his tall riding boots clicking on the marble floor. “May I join you while I await Darcy?”

“Of course, Richard,” Anne replied, politely.

The Colonel sat; recalling that he was supposed to decide if he could tolerate being married to Anne, he now felt awkward in her presence. “So, Anne,” he began, sounding falsely jovial even in his own ears. “How have you been?”

“Much as you see, cousin.”

He tried again. “Have you met the new Mrs. Collins?”

“I have, and I like her very much. She is not someone who could be a true friend, of course, as Mother would not tolerate it, but I enjoy her company when we happen to meet.”

“So you are not even permitted a friend?” The Colonel’s voice rose in protest. “I shall speak with your mother at once.”

“I beg that you do not, Colonel!”

“Whyever not? Would you not like a closer acquaintance with Mrs. Collins?”

Anne met his eyes squarely. “Surely you understand that if you show too great an interest in my welfare, my mother will immediately believe that your interest stems from a desire to marry me.”

The Colonel’s colour rose, and he was silenced.

She continued. “You see how awkwardly I am situated here. I must be careful to predict what she will think and how she will react, for she has control, complete control, over my life.”

“But you are of age!”

“I am, yes, but where would I go? What would I do? If I am honest, I am waiting for you or Fitzwilliam to marry and offer to host me for a Season!”

“I do not doubt that you would attract suitors,” he said.

“I wish to attract the right kind of suitors; I will not marry just to escape my mother. If I cannot be happy in marriage, I prefer not to be married at all. Eventually, I will inherit Rosings, so I will not lack for funds.”

“That is a very clear-eyed approach to life, I must say, Anne.”

“I have had a good deal of time to think on it, cousin,” she returned.

Mr. Darcy returned to the room, and the two left the drawing room, headed to the stables. The Colonel began, “I just had a surprisingly interesting conversation with Anne.”

“Did you, indeed! I did as well. There is more to Anne than I had imagined.”

“She hopes that one of us will marry and host her for a Season in Town.”

“Yes; she mentioned that to me as well. I had rather hoped that she had found someone she liked here in Kent, but as she said, she goes nowhere and sees no one.”

“I feel quite sad for her,” the Colonel mused.

“Sad enough to marry her?” Mr. Darcy enquired, one eyebrow lifted.

“Not quite that sad.” But his tone was less than certain.

Mr. Darcy shot his cousin a quick look, but said nothing.

***

At the parsonage, Elizabeth had finally decided on a simple green gown for dinner at Rosings.

There was no point in enhancing her appearance in order to attract Mr. Darcy; indeed, she would show her lack of interest by wearing this rather plain gown.

She had more elegant gowns that she might have chosen, but she felt it was important to demonstrate – to herself, at least – that she need not impress anyone.

Mary raised her eyebrows when Elizabeth descended the stairs, but said nothing.

The three of them walked to the big house, Mr. Collins exclaiming excitedly as they walked.

Cousin Elizabeth must observe the great number of windows!

And the grounds, were they not exquisite?

She must take care to observe every courtesy to the great lady, of course.

She must not expect conversation from Miss de Bourgh, as she rarely condescended to speak.

Elizabeth simply murmured in response to these various instructions.

Her mind was wholly occupied with the idea of seeing Mr. Darcy again, and cautioning herself to behave with appropriate coolness.

A solemn-faced butler greeted them and led them into the drawing room.

Elizabeth went in behind Mr. and Mrs. Collins, which gave her a moment to assess the situation.

Lady Catherine was sitting in a rather large and ornate chair; a young lady who must be Miss de Bourgh sat on the sofa nearest the fire with an older lady beside her.

The Colonel was already on his feet, smiling widely, and Mr. Darcy was also standing, but behind the Colonel.

Elizabeth was presented to Lady Catherine; she stepped forward and made a deep curtsey.

She curtsied again to Miss de Bourgh and the older lady, who was introduced as Mrs. Jenkinson, Miss de Bourgh’s companion.

Elizabeth then turned to Colonel Fitzwilliam and gave him her warmest smile. “Colonel! What an unexpected pleasure!”

“The pleasure must be entirely mine, Miss Elizabeth! I beg your pardon, I should say Miss Bennet. Darcy told me that your sister, Miss Mary, had married Mr. Collins, but I had no idea we were to have the additional pleasure of seeing you here. Come, Darcy, say something.”

It was well that the Colonel had spoken his name, for Mr. Darcy had frozen upon seeing her.

Had he forgotten how utterly lovely she was?

How thick and rich her hair, how her dark eyes sparkled in the candlelight?

How even the simplest of gowns hugged her gentle curves, curves that he longed to explore?

It was over. He could resist her no longer. He must have her for his own or he would die. As his Cousin Anne said, it was the only rational thing to do.

Now resolved, Mr. Darcy stepped forward and bowed deeply. Speaking for her ears only, he murmured, “Miss Bennet, I am frankly overjoyed to see you again.”

Elizabeth almost gasped at such a very warm welcome, but she remembered her resolution and gave Mr. Darcy only a quick glance, saying, “It is good to see you again, Mr. Darcy. At some point, you shall have to tell me how your London quest fared.” She turned back to Colonel Fitzwilliam.

“But tell me, Colonel, how have you been? Have you been to the Continent?”

The Colonel led Elizabeth to a pair of chairs, but before they could sit, Lady Catherine said, “Miss Bennet, I understand that you had met Mr. Darcy, but I was not told that you also know the Colonel.”

Elizabeth replied, calmly, “Doubtless you know that Mr. Darcy spent some time visiting his friend, Mr. Bingley, who leased the estate bordering ours. We had the pleasure of meeting the Colonel when he visited Mr. Darcy there for a brief time.”