Page 30 of He Taught Me to Hope (Darcy and the Young Knight’s Quest #1)

D arcy was well on the road to London before he could completely disregard his cousin’s odd behaviour.

Never before had she accompanied his cousin Richard and him to their carriage when they took their leave of Rosings Park.

Her ominous last words, spoken for his ears alone caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand.

Applying a bit of pressure to his proffered hand, her hushed tone prompted him to lean in closer, “This is not over until I say it is over.”

Nearer to town, haunting thoughts of Anne were pushed aside by thoughts of the two people he had learnt to care about, uppermost in his mind.

The two people he had left behind. Will I ever see them again?

If ever again, should Elizabeth choose to go ahead with the marriage, will I even recognise her, or will she have lost her spirit and liveliness pursuant to her marriage to Geoffrey Collins?

Darcy endeavoured to shake off such thoughts.

He picked up his neglected book and tried to recall where he had left off in the text.

I must not think like that. Surely, she will not yield to the man’s strong rule.

In spite of himself, Darcy recalled some of his most heated exchanges with Elizabeth, where he might have made mistakes, and what he might do differently, if given a chance.

He persuaded himself he had done the right thing by her in leaving Kent.

She needs to see for herself how her life would be, how Ben’s life would be.

I have faith in her judgement. Even if she is not in love with me, even if she feels duty bound, a sensible, lively, and passionate woman such as she, will not settle for a life of submissiveness.

The manner in which she railed against any act of officiousness on my part is proof enough of that. It is but one of the less than amiable qualities that particular gentleman possesses in spades. He gives the term officiousness an entirely new meaning.

Less than a fortnight later, Colonel Fitzwilliam must surely have congratulated himself on successfully persuading his cousin Darcy to join him for a late-night ball at Almack’s.

On the heels of their arrival, the former was besieged by a flock of young ladies eager to garner his attention.

This suited the latter just fine. In keeping with his usual order of things when attending the highly sought-out establishment among those of his sphere, Darcy quickly slipped away to the consolation of the card room where he determined to pass the next hour or so at the gaming tables.

He had seen many a fortune won and lost in such endeavours, causing him to be very studied, as well as prudent.

Having had his fill of games of chance, Darcy made his way to a far corner of the ballroom where he was content to enjoy the orchestra and watch the many couples on the dance floor take part in the gaieties such occasions generally afforded.

After a time, the colonel came from the dance to press his friend to join it. “Come, Darcy,” said he. “There are far too many ladies in want of partners for you to be standing about by yourself in such a stupid manner. I must have you dance.”

“You seem to have the situation completely under control. Besides, there is no one here with whom I would wish to partner.”

The colonel shrugged. “Indeed. No doubt the only woman of our acquaintance with whom you would wish to partner is miles away in Kent, with her betrothed if I recall correctly,” he concluded with an arch of his brow.

Despite the blow to his already wounded spirits, Darcy said nothing. His silence merely encouraged his cousin to continue his rebuke.

“Do you not think it is time that you release your unrequited affections?”

Perturbed by his cousin’s easy dismissal of his feelings, Darcy replied, “I have fallen in love with Elizabeth for what I believe will be forever. She is the woman I have been waiting for all my life.”

“I posit you would be much better off were you simply to forget her. She is engaged to another. She will never be yours. I believe it is far better that you reconcile yourself to that truth, however unpleasant you may find the prospect, and allow yourself to go on with life. You need not commit to marriage just yet. Perhaps you might take a mistress. I can think of any number of desirable women who will suit admirably until you meet the woman who is worthy of being the next mistress of Pemberley.” The colonel subtly nodded in the direction of a striking beauty dressed in an emerald coloured gown.

Half annoyed, half obliging, Darcy gazed in the woman’s direction—the same woman who had been gawking at him from across the room for the past half hour: a Lady Bolton. Sensing the inherent danger if caught looking, he darted his eyes away just as quickly.

The colonel rambled on, but Darcy did not hear a word he spoke.

His busy mind was otherwise engaged. As much as Darcy believed he had already met the one woman in the world worthy of being Pemberley’s next mistress, he wasn’t so na?ve as to presume his heart would never recover.

Although he was sure Elizabeth would hold a special place in his heart forever, he also knew the pain of losing her would not last permanently.

Time has a way of taking away all manner of suffering.

“I owe it to myself to honour the love I feel for her and to cherish the memories of the time we spent together by not rushing into a trifling affair with another.” Here, he looked at his cousin in real earnest. “I do not expect you to understand, but I do expect—nay demand—that you respect my wishes in this regard.”

In the ensuing weeks, the Hunsford party fell into a rather comfortable, though sometimes awkward routine. Regular invitations to Rosings resumed as Lady Catherine sought to overcome the sense of loneliness brought on by her nephews’ departure.

It was a beautiful day for a picnic and in keeping with her promise to the girls the day before, that is just what Elizabeth and the girls set out to do.

They found a lovely spot that offered a splendid view of Rosings Park.

After an hour or so, their delightful party of three was interrupted by the addition of a fourth, Mr. Collins.

The girls were eager for the chance to spend time with their father, especially in their future stepmother’s company, for he displayed signs of light heartedness and gaiety theretofore not attributable to him.

After a moment or two, he glanced about to survey the environs. “Where is Ben?”

“He was eager to go out after breakfast,” responded Elizabeth. “I reminded him he was not to venture too far,” she quickly added, reminded of his earlier rebukes against Ben’s wont of scampering about on his own.

“I shall look for him, then. I thought we might take a ride in the country this afternoon,” Collins replied, before rising to his feet .

Ben was off planning a surprise. He had often recalled old tales of lore as recounted to him by his mother, who as a child likely heard it from her own mother, who heard it from her mother, no doubt altered in translation through the generations; tales of princes, and princesses, and far-away kingdoms and the like.

His soon-to-be sisters, rather stepsisters, as he was always known to voice aloud, were the closest approximation of princesses he could imagine.

What with the way they sat around at leisure, wasting away the day in one frivolous pursuit or another, having tea, fussing over each other’s hair, dressing up, and staring into looking glasses.

The only time they even deigned to allow him in their court was when they needed a jester or a servant, or so it seemed to him.

Imagine Sir Lancelot standing attendance to two haughty princesses, when there were wars to be waged and fierce battles to be won.

On the other hand, two haughty princesses were far better companions than the loneliness that beset him in the wake of King Arthur’s leave-taking.

“Princess Gillian, Princess Emily!” he shouted eagerly as he joined them on their outing.

Ben had blessed them with that regal appellation as a means of teasing them.

Alas, addressing them so had become the only way they would recognise his presence.

“I have a wonderful surprise for the two of you! Come see what it is.”

The girls had no doubt he had something for them. The excited look reflected on his face was proof enough of that. In addition, he had both hands tucked behind his back. The glances that passed between them were confirmation of their opinion of the status of the youngest as compared to their own.

Gillian, the older of the two by at least thirty minutes commanded, “If you have come bearing gifts, then you must step forward and produce them.” Emily confirmed her sister’s decree with a slight nod of her head.

“Very well, ma’ ladies,” Ben humbly replied as he approached. Without further ado, he removed his hands from behind his back and brought his offerings forth. “Your princes have arrived!”

The girls let out two deafening screams, surprising Ben as much as he had surprised them. How could they not be pleased with his gifts? It had taken him most of the morning to capture the two toads!

Elizabeth, it seemed, was the least surprised. Masking her amusement as best she could muster, she managed to say, “Ben!” only to be interrupted by the ferociousness of Geoffrey Collins’s voice.

Appearing from nowhere, he grabbed young Ben by his upper arm forcefully.

Ben broke away from the man’s grip and backed away, stumbling over in the process, shock clearly registering on his young face.

Before Ben could right himself, Collins reached for him again.

He took him by the shoulder and positioned him before the girls, who by then were just as confused as young Ben, any thoughts of a possible catalyst for the scene that occurred before them, completely erased.