Page 1 of Darcy’s Redemption (Holidays with Darcy and Elizabeth)

Chapter One

F itzwilliam Darcy’s arrival at Rosings the Wednesday before Easter took Elizabeth Bennet by surprise. She was visiting her cousin, Mr. Collins, and his new wife Charlotte, her closest friend. Elizabeth would never have come solely for Mr. Collins’ sake, but when Charlotte—then still Miss Lucas—had invited her to visit when her father, Sir William Lucas, would come later in the spring, she had agreed to join the family without hesitation. Only afterward did she consider how awkward the stay might be, given that she had rejected Mr. Collins’ proposal just days before he had offered for Charlotte. Even so, that had not been reason enough to refuse the invitation.

What she had not anticipated was encountering Mr. Darcy there.

Upon reflection, she realised she should not have been surprised. After all, Mr. Darcy was related to Lady Catherine de Bourgh, the mistress of Rosings Park and Mr. Collins’ esteemed patroness . Still, she had not expected to see him often during her stay .

To her astonishment, however, Darcy and his cousin called at the Parsonage soon after their arrival. Darcy claimed he had come because he was acquainted with both Mr. and Mrs. Collins—and, of course, with Elizabeth herself—but she could not understand such civility so soon after his arrival.

However, Darcy soon exhibited what Elizabeth believed was his usual behaviour, speaking little and far from cordially. His cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, was left to carry the conversation. The colonel was everything Darcy was not—lively, friendly, and an engaging conversationalist. As he had done at Netherfield, Darcy retained his disconcerting habit of staring at her.

This unsettled Elizabeth because she could not explain his purpose. She still believed he did so only to find fault with her, which naturally deepened her dislike. After all, who could like a man who spent most of his time staring in what she presumed to be disdain?

The day after their first visit, she encountered both Darcy and his cousin on her morning walk through the groves of Rosings. Perhaps to say she encountered them was an overstatement, for in truth, she heard them on the path nearby and immediately turned around.

However, just as she began to make her way in the opposite direction, she overheard a name that made her stop in her tracks.

“…you say Wickham has been in Meryton all this time, and you have done nothing to warn the people of that town about his proclivities?” she heard the colonel’s voice demand, his tone sharp with disbelief.

“What was I to do, Richard?” Darcy bit out, his voice tense with frustration. “I saw him one afternoon in town, speaking with several young women of my acquaintance. I was barely able to restrain myself and certainly did not speak to him since all I wished to do was call him out for his disgraceful treatment of my sister. However, I could not and rode away instead. Perhaps I might have whispered a warning in a few ears before I left, but before I could think to do so, a message arrived at Netherfield from him. He threatened if word of my ‘interference’ reached him, he would claim that he had taken liberties with Georgiana, ruining her reputation entirely. I was unwilling to risk her in this way.”

Elizabeth barely stopped the gasp that threatened to escape her lips. Her breath caught as she tried to make sense of it. This went beyond Wickham’s denied inheritance. He had always painted himself as the victim, a wronged man with no recourse but to rely on the generosity of others. But if Mr. Darcy was telling the truth—and the urgency in his voice suggested he was—then Wickham was not merely a man cheated of his due. He was a blackmailer, a man who wielded threats as weapons.

Her heart pounded as the implications settled over her. What kind of information did Mr. Wickham possess that would drive Mr. Darcy to such lengths? And what had transpired between him and Miss Darcy that could so easily be twisted into scandal?

She had believed Wickham without question, had allowed his easy manner and charming words to colour her perception of Darcy. But now… now she was no longer certain. Mr. Darcy may be proud, distant, and often insufferable, but there was an undeniable sincerity in his words. He had borne Wickham’s presence in silence rather than endanger his sister .

A chill ran through her as she recalled how quickly the officers, and indeed most of Meryton, had welcomed Wickham. How readily she herself had believed his tale. If he was half as dangerous as Darcy’s words suggested, then how many young women had unknowingly placed their trust in him?

Elizabeth’s pulse quickened, her feet frozen in place. She longed to move, to slip away before she was discovered, yet she could not tear herself from the conversation unfolding before her.

She was forced to ask herself a question she had never considered: had she been entirely, devastatingly wrong in her understanding of the two men?

She must have made a noise, for the conversation between the two men, which had continued while Elizabeth’s mind wandered, suddenly broke off.

“Is someone there?” came the sharp voice of the colonel.

Elizabeth tentatively stepped forward. “It is just me,” she said, her voice tentative and unsteady, betraying her unease. Too late, it occurred to her she might have pretended she had just come upon them, but her tremulous voice likely gave her away.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward confidently, hoping to make it appear she had not heard their conversation. However, the moment her eyes met Mr. Darcy’s, she knew. He knew she had heard it all.

"You heard us," he said, his voice soft but firm. Elizabeth hesitated, unsure if he was upset with her, and waited for him to continue.

Instead of answering, she nodded her agreement.

Darcy sighed. “I realise that what I said to you that night at the ball left much unsaid, but I could not risk my sister’s reputation. He told you about the denied living,” he asked, again phrasing it in such a way that Elizabeth could not tell if it was a question or a statement.

“He did,” she confirmed.

Scoffing, Darcy glared at her. “He did not mention that he was given the value of the living after my father died and that it was his subsequent application for the living that was denied, did he?”

Elizabeth returned the glare. “He did not,” she answered in a tone that did not quite match the ferocity of her gaze. Nearly as soon as she said it, the foolishness of believing Mr. Wickham dawned on her and she realised that her determination to see only the worst in the man standing in front of her had caused her to swallow the tale without question. Elizabeth’s cheeks flushed with heat as she finally understood her mistake.

Her eyes slid shut in realisation. “Forgive me for assuming the worst and believing his lies,” she said, her voice soft and hesitant. Although she now recognised her error, it did not change the mortification she was feeling at that moment.

To her surprise, Darcy’s voice was gentle. “There is nothing to forgive, Miss Elizabeth. Others with far more experience than you have been taken in by him,” he said. “I… as you heard, there was a reason I could not say more. In a way, I… I did attempt to warn you, but I could not be too direct. My intention was to put you on your guard.”

“It would not have worked,” she admitted ruefully. “He flattered me, and I was vain enough to allow his—I suppose the only word is charm—I allowed his charm to sway my thinking. I should have recognised the impropriety of his revealing such intimate details about his life to a stranger, but I—,” she paused and sighed heavily, unwilling and perhaps unable to continue.

However, Darcy took it up. “Because I had insulted you instead of flattering you,” he finished.

Elizabeth stared at him in surprise.

Darcy sighed, taking his hat off with one hand and running his fingers through his hair with the other. “I had forgotten about my words until something Bingley said after we left the area recalled them to my memory. It startled me to remember what I said then, and when Bingley pointed out that it was likely that you had heard my words…,” he paused again, unsure how much he should say. “My words that evening were patently false and meant only to make my friend leave me alone. I suppose I also meant to warn you off since I was in no mood to inflict my company on any stranger that night. I would ask for your forgiveness..”

He closed his eyes for a moment, running his hands through his hair again, while Elizabeth stood there mute. The two had nearly forgotten about the colonel’s presence entirely, until he cleared his throat, startling them both.

“Darcy, you might as well tell her the whole of the story,” Fitzwilliam said, his voice rough with anger from his earlier confrontation with his cousin. “Wickham can be persuasive, and once she returns to Meryton, perhaps she can do something to rein in some of his more dishonourable behaviour.”

He nearly snarled the last, his fury barely contained. Elizabeth, unsettled by the intensity of his emotion, instinctively stepped closer to Darcy. Although she had always believed she disliked Darcy, his steady presence was oddly reassuring in the face of the colonel’s tightly leashed rage.

“If Wickham learns that she has spoken in my defence, he will target her,” Darcy protested. “He knows that I often visit my aunt at Easter and will know that I have spoken to her. Elizabeth has four sisters, and Wickham would not hesitate to use one of them to get back at her. Not to mention, he would also speak against Georgiana.”

“Why did you not speak sooner?” Fitzwilliam demanded. “You have held onto debts of his for years and could have had him thrown into Newgate or Marshalsea right after that incident at Ramsgate—or you could have acted years ago, not long after your father died when the bastard ran up debts in your name from Lambton to London.”

“Richard!” Darcy barked.

The colonel shot him a sharp look at the reprimand in his tone, but understanding dawned a moment later. He exhaled heavily, closing his eyes briefly before murmuring a quick apology to Elizabeth.

Elizabeth waved it off. “I do not know what I might do, but I should like to hear the whole story. I have heard enough by now to piece some of it together, but I would rather not rely on fragments; that is, if you believe I ought to know it.”

Exhaling slowly, Darcy removed his overcoat, laying it on the ground. “Might we sit, Miss Elizabeth?” he said. “It is a long story, and I would prefer to tell it sitting down.”

It was Elizabeth’s turn to look at him in surprise. “I cannot sit,” she stammered. “If someone were to see the three of us together, simply standing here, it could be bad enough, but if we were seen sitting on the ground together, people would assume far worse.”

“What if another lady were present?” the colonel asked. “Anne knows the whole tale, and if we can sneak her out, a meeting would appear more innocent. Lady Catherine will assume that Miss Bennet and I are chaperoning you and Anne if she hears of it, and she will ensure no one speaks against her daughter’s reputation.”

Darcy scowled at his cousin. “Richard,” he grumped, “you know that Anne and I are not engaged, nor will we ever be. Neither of us wishes to marry the other, regardless of what Lady Catherine believes.”

Fitzwilliam’s mood had obviously lightened, since he only laughed at the look on his cousin’s face. “Yes, but her belief that you will one day acquiesce is entertaining. Our aunt will be delighted if Anne and you are walking out and will not even think to scold our poor cousin about exerting herself.”

“Richard,” Darcy scolded again. “I am so glad that my pain amuses you, but I hardly wish to give your aunt further fodder for her ambitions. However, I think your idea of a chaperone is a good one, and perhaps Mrs. Collins could be persuaded to join you. She is a married lady, after all, and a far better chaperone than our unmarried cousin.”

“ My cousin is likely at Rosings keeping your aunt company right now,” Elizabeth jested. “Come, you might tell me the beginning while we walk towards the parsonage. We will have to find an excuse to keep Maria from accompanying us, otherwise you will have to speak softly so she does not overhear. While my friend knows how to be discreet, her younger sister does not.”

That said, the three began to wend their way towards the parsonage. Darcy offered Elizabeth his arm, which she took hesitantly, believing he meant to keep her close so he could speak quietly.

Yet, for his part, the light touch of her hand on his arm grounded him in a way he had never experienced before. Although he had tried to forget Elizabeth while he wasin London, he had been unable to completely erase her from his mind. Now, more than ever, he wished to make her his own. However, he remained torn about doing so, uncertain as to how she would be received amongst the ton and particularly by his aunt and uncle. Would he fulfil his parents’ wishes for him if he married a penniless country miss?

Regardless, it might be difficult to reveal the full extent of Wickham’s depravities, but with her steadying touch, he felt strong enough to speak of it—fully and for the first time. Although his cousin knew the whole truth, they seldom spoke of it, for Fitzwilliam had witnessed much of it firsthand.