Page 7 of Blessed Interference (Pride and Prejudice Variations #1)

Kent

Fitzwilliam Darcy looked out of the open window of the carriage, his eyes fixed on the fields to his right.

It was a warm day for March, and the wheat was sprouting in the fields, and he could see a flock of sheep in the distance, their white coats like so much cotton in a green field.

It was lambing season, and since his eyes were sharp, he was able to spy a fair number of lambs clinging close to their mothers.

He sighed deeply. He did not truly wish to be here in Kent on a visit to his tiresome aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. He would far rather be in Derbyshire, at Pemberley, overseeing his own flock of lambs.

No, that was not true. Pemberley was preferable to Rosings, certainly, but better than both would be Netherfield Hall, in Hertfordshire. Because Netherfield Hall was near Longbourn, and Miss Elizabeth Bennet lived at Longbourn, and he loved her.

It was painful to confess to himself this truth, that he genuinely loved Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn, but he had fought it for so long, and so hard, and failed again and again to banish the lady from his mind.

It had taken every iota of self-will to come to Rosings now, to look over the books with the help of the steward of the estate, and to listen to Lady Catherine’s demands that he marry his cousin, Anne de Bourgh.

His friend Bingley would, of course, leap at the chance of hosting his friend at Netherfield Hall and would allow Darcy to spend time in the intoxicating presence of Miss Elizabeth Bennet…

“Whatever is wrong, Darcy?”

The master of Pemberley looked up in surprise to observe his cousin Richard staring at him intently. He realized he was scowling hideously and forced his face to relax.

“I am not looking forward to visiting Lady Catherine and Anne,” he admitted. That was true enough, though not all of the truth.

“I daresay it will be dreadfully tedious,” Richard agreed, “but at least the food will be good, and you can always hide in the library.”

“I suppose,” Darcy said glumly.

Silence fell for another minute, and then his cousin said, “It is more than our tiresome aunt, Darcy. Are you perhaps distressed about putting Wickham in debtors’ prison?”

The younger man jerked in surprise and said, “Absolutely not!”

“Good,” Richard said with obvious relief. “I know that he was a favorite of my uncle Darcy’s, and you were reluctant to move against him on that account.”

“I was also worried about Georgiana’s reputation after that near disaster at Ramsgate,” Darcy said, “but in many ways, I was merely being lazy. If I could go back in time, I would have dealt with Wickham far sooner. I regret that it took an actual physical attack against an innocent girl for me to move against the man.”

“You have had a great deal on your shoulders for many years,” the colonel said sympathetically. “It is no easy thing to become master of a great estate as a young man, nor to take the responsibility for a much younger sister.”

“You have helped me with that,” Darcy said.

“A little,” his cousin agreed, “but my service in the army has restricted my ability to care for Georgiana. In any case, I am glad you do not feel guilty about Wickham’s current location, and I urge you not to scold yourself for not acting sooner.

I am confident neither of us had any idea that he would act violently. ”

“Thank you, Richard,” Darcy said gratefully, turning toward the window again as the lodge for Rosings appeared on the left. “I will try not to…”

He trailed off and leaned his forehead against the window, his eyes flaring wide as he drew in a sharp breath. He must be imagining things! It could not be!

“Whatever is wrong?” the colonel demanded.

“I thought I saw someone I know walking by the side of the road,” he said, forcing himself to lean back against the squabs. “But it is impossible. She lives in Hertfordshire.”

***

Dining Room

Rosings

That Evening

Lady Catherine de Bourgh was tall, full-figured, and dictatorial.

She was rich, of course, as the mistress of the great estate of Rosings, and she liked to garb herself in expensive velvets and silks, and eat extravagant foods, and direct the conversation of all those around her.

She had been speaking at some length on a wide range of thoroughly boring topics and was now holding forth about the recent marriage of the rector of Hunsford.

“She is quite a sensible woman, Mrs. Collins,” the lady said grandly. “Young, of course, but willing to listen to the wisdom of those with far more experience in life.”

Richard Fitzwilliam, who was eating steadily, was surprised when there was an actual pause in the conversation.

He looked up to observe his aunt looking back and forth between her silent daughter and younger nephew with a gleam in her eye, and he realized that she intended to speak of the supposed engagement between Anne and Darcy.

He nobly and hastily said, “Where did Mr. Collins meet his wife?”

Lady Catherine turned back to him and said, “In Hertfordshire, in a little town called Meryton. Indeed, I believe you know the lady, Darcy. She is the eldest daughter of a family there named Lucas.”

Darcy, who had been inattentive throughout the meal, tilted his head in thought and then nodded. “The former Miss Lucas. Yes, I remember her and her family.”

“She has a pretty young friend with her,” Lady Catherine continued, “a Miss Bennet, who is one of the daughters of Longbourn. Mr. Collins is the heir of that estate, you see, and Mrs. Collins is a close friend to Miss Elizabeth Bennet and invited her here for a few weeks.”

Richard nodded politely and happened to look at Darcy. The master of Pemberley apparently had seen a ghost, as he was pale, and his mouth was drooping slightly, and his eyes were wide.

“Whatever is the matter, Darcy?” Lady Catherine demanded.

Richard, who had experienced a sudden, dazzling understanding of Darcy’s absentmindedness on the journey, said, “Lady Catherine, are you quite certain that this cheese is not spoiled?”

This naturally drew his aunt’s attention, and she cried out, “Spoiled? Certainly not! Everything served at my table is fresh and good. Really, it seems your months overseas have ruined your ability to appreciate good food!”

“My apologies, Lady Catherine,” Richard said in a contrite tone. “You are correct, of course. The cheese is excellent.”

“Of course it is, as is the meat. I always require the very best at my table, which is only appropriate given our situation in life. Now, Colonel, I have been thinking over your situation, and am of the view that it is high time for you to marry. You are thirty years old!”

Richard suppressed a groan and shot a pleading look at Darcy. He had intervened on behalf of his cousin, and he hoped that Darcy would do the same for him.

But Darcy was off in his own little world, his eyes glazed as he mechanically nibbled at a roll. There was no hope from that quarter.

“I would be pleased to wed, Lady Catherine,” he said, turning back towards his aunt, “but I have not been fortunate enough to find a lady who would be a good bride, who is equally interested in me.”

“Nonsense!” his hostess replied. “You are the son of an earl!”

“But a younger son.”

Lady Catherine waved this off with one extravagant gesture and said, “My dear Richard, if I had known you were having trouble, I would have intervened before. Now, let me see, I assume you would wish for a dowry of at least twenty thousand pounds, but there must be...”

The lady of the house continued in this vein for some minutes, and by the time she had discussed some six young ladies of the ton, none of whom sounded interesting at all to Richard, Darcy had recovered sufficiently to mutter his thanks for dinner when the ladies rose from the table.

Richard waited until the door to the dining room was closed and the rather loud sound of his aunt’s shoes had died away and then leaned toward his cousin and murmured, “Tell me about Elizabeth Bennet, Darcy.”

***

On the Lane to the Hunsford Parsonage

Kent

The Next Morning

“This is a bad idea, Richard,” Fitzwilliam Darcy stated, though the rapidity of his gait suggested that he did not, in fact, believe that to be true.

“It is an excellent idea,” Richard replied, speeding up slightly to keep up with his cousin’s longer legs. “Miss Elizabeth has obviously dazzled you in a way that no other woman has. You can keep fighting it, or you can spend more time with her and either decide to marry her or lose interest.”

“It is true that I tried forgetting her,” Darcy agreed morosely, “and it did not work at all. But I still do not think I can marry her. Her mother is vulgar, her younger sisters are boisterous, and she has an uncle in trade.”

Richard reached out an arm, grabbed his cousin, and pulled him to a halt, causing Darcy to stumble briefly before catching himself.

“If that is your attitude,” the colonel said sternly, “then you had best not even think about offering for Miss Elizabeth. I have never met her family.”

Darcy, who was looking pugnacious, interrupted, “If you had, you would know what I mean!”

“But,” Richard continued determinedly, “I assume she loves her parents and sisters.”

Darcy blinked. “I suppose she does, but that does not change the fact that they are most unsatisfactory. Indeed, it will be shocking if the youngest girl does not run off with some handsome ne'er-do-well and ruin herself.”

“As Georgiana almost did?” Richard demanded, glaring up into his cousin’s face.

Darcy looked angry for a few seconds and then, to his credit, thoughtful.

A minute passed in silence, and Richard waited patiently until Darcy said, “I still do not think that Miss Elizabeth is … but you are right that my sister also…”

“Mr. Darcy!” a male voice cried out.

The mildly irritated pair turned courteous faces toward a plump gentleman of some five and twenty years, who was rushing forward with a beaming face.

“Mr. Darcy, it is such an honor to see you this morning,” he warbled.

Darcy looked annoyed, but he merely said, “Richard, may I please introduce you to Mr. Collins, rector here at Hunsford? Mr. Collins, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam.”

The parson bowed and then said, “It is such a great honor to meet another nephew of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, sir! Would you both care to visit my wife and guests in my humble parsonage? I am certain Mrs. Collins, her sister, and Miss Bennet would be honored.”

“Yes, that would be very pleasant, thank you,” the colonel said blandly and turned toward his cousin. “Come along, Darcy.”