Page 18 of Mr Darcy Gets Angry

“I am growing older,” Lady Matlock had said, almost in apology. Though he tried to protest, she silenced him with a gesture. “In other times, I would have moved mountains to defend one of my children; now I have remained behind, allowing Arthur to go alone to Southampton.”

“You acted wisely, dear Aunt. I regret to say it, but the journey is without sense; I doubt he will obtain any intelligence there.”

“He may be in danger!”

“No. He will only be fatigued; the road is wretched.”

“Yes—now it seems a childish measure.”

Darcy studied her with concern; she seemed indeed older, her noble bearing diminished by anxiety.

“I know not what I should have done without their company,” she said softly.

And for him, their company meant Elizabeth was only a few steps away.

When he turned towards the door, she was there—just as beautiful as he remembered, with only a shadow of sleep lingering in her eyes.

The surprise, the delight, the unguarded joy that she allowed him to see were beyond anything he had dared to hope; yet all she could read in his face was care.

He longed to tell her that he was wonderstruck to find her there, but before he could speak, she was gone.

They both hastened after her.

“Why has she fled?” Lady Matlock asked in astonishment.

“Because I am a fool,” he said.

Scenes from Pemberley returned to her ladyship’s mind; she looked from him to Elizabeth, who had now turned back towards them. Between these two, there is more than friendship , she thought, regretting that she could not, for the present, give voice to her satisfaction.

“Come, my children,” she said, “let us go to breakfast—and pray, behave yourselves. I can bear no further excitement.” Her voice was kindly, with a trace of amusement, as though she understood far more than she expressed.

It was so simple that he could hardly believe it. The unfortunate matter concerning his cousin had brought his aunt to a tacit approval of his choice—or perhaps she might have approved in any event. The truth would remain a mystery.

“Why were you so angry?” Elizabeth asked in a low tone as they followed Lady Matlock into the dining room.

“I am anxious—grievously troubled for Richard—and happy to see you.”

“Then you failed in the last part. I believed you hated me for being here.”

He smiled faintly and kissed her hand without a word.

∞∞∞

When Mary joined them, Elizabeth used those moments to compose herself. He was not angry with her—and that was all that mattered. He had kissed her hand, and she could not help but recall how such a gesture, at Pemberley, had stirred her more than she cared to confess.

His astonishment at Mary’s entrance was genuine; Elizabeth almost laughed. Her heart, freed from doubt, was full of love once more. Feel remorse, Mr Darcy, she thought, for having judged my family so unkindly.

And remorse there was. Mary was a perfect young lady, with the proper smile and the right words of introduction. Elizabeth wondered where this sister had been concealed. She had flourished in these last days.

“I must know everything,” Darcy said, and Lady Matlock nodded to Mary, inviting her to speak.

For the next hour, Mary commanded their attention. Elizabeth observed, with pride, her sister’s growing self-possession; and her recital was so articulate and judicious that Darcy had only a few questions at its close.

“Everything accords,” he said gravely, and all agreed. “What I ponder is how so intricate a scheme, with all its strange coincidences, should have reached us.”

“Colonel Fitzwilliam is too worthy a man to deserve such a fate,” Elizabeth said warmly, earning a look of gratitude from Lady Matlock.

When his aunt left the room, Darcy turned to Elizabeth. “I am profoundly worried.”

“I know. It was our feeling from the first hour, even before we knew for certain that she was the Frenchman’s daughter.”

Before they could say more, Lady Matlock returned.

“Where is the letter?” he asked.

“Your uncle took it,” she replied, with a look of regret, obviously realising it had been a mistake.

“I cannot depart for Eastbourne without it. It is the only tangible proof we possess.”

Elizabeth, seeing her ladyship’s distress, moved closer. “We shall find a way, my lady—I promise.”

“Yes, Miss Elizabeth, we shall indeed find a way,” Darcy added. His voice, meant to reassure, could not conceal his doubt. “Send at once to my uncle, and request his immediate return to London.”

Lady Matlock did not delay. In the drawing-room, and under their gaze, she wrote the message and summoned Stevenson. “We depend upon his returning with all speed,” she said.

“I shall bring him back, my lady,” the butler replied, and they all felt a measure of relief. The effort to save the colonel had begun.

∞∞∞

“How long is Richard to remain in Eastbourne?” Darcy asked.

“At least a month,” Lady Matlock replied, then, after a moment’s pause, she added, “What do you suppose she can want of him?”

The answer had been given more than once by either Mary or Elizabeth. Yet, the anxious mother could not bring herself to accept it.

“Richard is in Eastbourne with a mission…” Darcy began, but hesitated. The purpose of Miss Henry was plain to him, yet he dreaded to inflict further alarm upon his aunt.

“Speak, nephew; I can bear anything. I must know the truth, for only thus shall we be able to form a plan for his rescue.”

“She is likely seeking to obtain from Richard some intelligence concerning the war.”

At this, they heard Lady Matlock draw a long breath, and tears gathered in her eyes. She remained motionless, so that the stillness rendered those tears the more alarming.

“You must go to Eastbourne!” she exclaimed at last. Her voice, grown firm once more, betrayed the resolve that had swept away her moment of weakness.

The noblewoman stood ready to fight, and in her bearing there was the unmistakable presence of those forebears who had served their sovereign in times of peril.

“He is your closest friend—more a brother than by blood—you must save him. Only tell me how I may assist!” Elizabeth said earnestly.

To their astonishment, Darcy’s countenance became a mask of anger. “I will kill her,” he muttered.

Elizabeth, caring no longer for appearances, placed her hand upon his, which trembled with rage. “Stop—pray stop—and tell us what is happening,” she said in a whisper.

Mary’s eyes opened wide in surprise. She was still discovering this sister who, at every turn, astonished her.

For the first time that morning, she ventured to examine Mr Darcy; earlier, when he had spoken, she had scarcely looked at him.

In the past, she had never studied men; they had held no interest for her, chiefly because her sisters seemed absorbed by the subject.

Yet with this gentleman, she began to comprehend what Elizabeth or Jane might value.

Whether or not he could be called handsome, she could not decide; but there was in him a presence that commanded the room.

Even in anxiety or in anger, he appeared as a force of nature, and her sister’s influence upon him was undeniable.

“You know what has happened,” he said to Elizabeth. “Richard will not listen to me.”

Lady Matlock regarded them with bewilderment. “What are you saying, Fitzwilliam? He is your closest friend. You are to him more of a brother than his own brother is. Am I mistaken?”

“No, you are right. But this time—” Darcy’s voice bore the weight of his pain. His eyes sought Elizabeth’s, and at last she understood.

“My God!” she exclaimed, and the apprehension in her tone filled the room. “My God!”

“Speak, my children; you drive me to distraction,” Lady Matlock urged.

And me as well , Mary thought. She was now prepared for any revelation, even when her sister began to speak.

“In Hunsford, I discussed many matters with Colonel Fitzwilliam,” Elizabeth said.

“Yes, he told me that you were an excellent friend,” Lady Matlock nodded.

“But he did not tell you that I was then angry with Mr Darcy.”

Elizabeth exchanged a silent look with him, choosing not to reveal the particulars of the Parsonage. That was their secret, and it must remain so. She read in his eyes that he agreed.

“Why?” Lady Matlock asked in surprise. She could scarcely imagine her nephew—the very model of a gentleman—capable of provoking such a sentiment.

Elizabeth shook her head, as if to signify that the explanation was not easily given. “Mr Darcy advised a friend not to marry…my sister Jane.”

“What friend?”

“Mr Bingley. He suggested to Mr Bingley that Jane’s affection was insufficient.”

“Fitzwilliam—is this true?” Lady Matlock asked, not in disbelief, but in the manner of a mother reproving her son.

“Yes, it is true. It was a mistaken decision, born of arrogance…of insufficiently or inadequately observing the people around me.”

“And what part had Richard?” she asked, turning to Elizabeth.

“The colonel told me a story, without naming the persons concerned. I believe at first he did not know them himself; yet it was clear to me who they were. In time, we spoke of it often—he and I—and we concluded that Mr Darcy had been in error, and that it was an ill-judged action which blighted the happiness of two people.”

“Is it true—do they have no hope together?” Lady Matlock wanted to know.

“For months they suffered—both of them—and I am certain that the colonel advised Mr Bingley to follow his heart rather than the counsel of others.”

“My dear Richard—” Lady Matlock inclined her head. “I see: Fitzwilliam would be the last man Richard would heed in a matter of heart, ladies or intentions.”

The pain in her voice was such that Mary moved to sit beside her upon the settee, offering what comfort she could, while Elizabeth went to Darcy, who stood at the window. The gesture was one of unmistakable forgiveness.

“What are we to do?” Lady Matlock asked, and a silence fell. “So this is why you have been so angered—you knew that Richard would refuse your advice.”

“Yes. I am angry with myself for interfering in Bingley’s life. It caused so much misery, and now, in this present matter, I am powerless. I am his closest friend, yet he would not believe me—not even with the letter in hand.”

“But he would believe me!” Elizabeth suddenly said, with such conviction that all turned towards her. “Yes—he would believe me. He knows me, and our understanding is strong enough for him to accept the proofs and to consider them.”

“But how can you reach him? He is two days away, and in a month it may be too late.” Lady Matlock’s tone held doubt, yet also the spark of a new hope.

“I shall go to Eastbourne with my uncle Gardiner, if need be.”

“Bless you, child!” Lady Matlock rose and embraced her warmly.

“Marry me,” Darcy said, and the three ladies turned to him in astonishment. “Yes—marry me, and we shall go together.”

“Fitzwilliam!” cried her ladyship. “This is neither the place—in public—nor the motive to propose to a lady.”

“It is not so very public,” Darcy replied, with a pale smile, his eyes fixed on Elizabeth. “As for the motive—there is only one: I love her beyond reason.”

“It is most improper. I trust Miss Elizabeth will forgive you in time. Come, Miss Mary, let us take a walk.”

“No, pray remain. I require your assistance,” Darcy said, at last turning from Elizabeth to his aunt.

“You require me? And for what? To persuade the lady?”

“I am already persuaded, your ladyship,” Elizabeth answered, and she saw Darcy’s breath escape in quiet relief.

“Then what is it you ask of me?”

“I would have you go to the Archbishop of Canterbury at Lambeth Palace and obtain an extraordinary licence. I wish to marry Elizabeth before Lord Matlock returns, and travel to Eastbourne as husband and wife.”

“You are quite unwell in your reasoning, my boy. Have you ever known His Grace Charles Manners-Sutton to grant such a licence in a single day?”

“In fact, I have—to the Duke of Cambridge.”

“Yes—years ago, when the duke was dying of his wounds, and his final wish was to marry Lady Margaret Watsonville.”

“Then tell him the truth. He is a clergyman and must keep the matter secret. Say that only Miss Elizabeth Bennet can preserve the country from defeat at the hands of Napoleon.”

Despite the seriousness of their discourse, Lady Matlock smiled.

“I can go to our own parish and ask Mr Rawson to marry you within a fortnight; in the meantime, I shall accompany Miss Elizabeth and you to Eastbourne. As for now, Miss Mary and I shall retire and give you ten minutes in which to make your proposal with propriety.”