Page 51 of Mr. Darcy’s Forgotten Heir (Pride and Prejudice Variations #1)
“Only to say that she is a remarkable young woman who has weathered considerable hardship with admirable strength,” Georgiana replied. “I believe Aunt Eleanor sees great potential for happiness in this attachment.”
Darcy nodded thoughtfully, encouraged by the prospect of his aunt’s approval. Lady Eleanor’s judgment in matters of character was unerring, and her support would be invaluable in establishing Elizabeth’s position in society.
“I envision bringing them both to Pemberley after a suitable interval,” he mused. “William would benefit from the estate’s resources—the library, the grounds for exploration, proper tutors to develop his obvious intelligence.”
“And Elizabeth?” Georgiana prompted with a knowing smile.
“Elizabeth belongs wherever brings her happiness,” Darcy said quietly. “I hope that might someday be at my side, as my wife.”
“Oh, Fitzwilliam!” Georgiana embraced him warmly. “I am so happy for you and Elizabeth, and dear William, too. Please make haste and speak to her soon as I shall be so happy I will explode, and she will ask me why. You know, Brother, how I cannot keep a secret.”
“Then you are perhaps hastening me to my demise,” Darcy remarked, although his heart was giddy at the thought of her acceptance. “I am no means assured that I have cleared all the obstacles to such a felicitous union.”
“I believe there are no obstacles, Brother,” Georgian observed in a teasing manner. “Only your fears, and perhaps your legendary reserve.”
A comfortable silence settled between them as both contemplated the pleasant domestic future that seemed to beckon.
Darcy imagined Elizabeth presiding over Pemberley’s breakfast table, William racing through the halls with the same joyful energy he brought to every activity, perhaps other children joining them in time.
The fantasy was interrupted by footsteps in the corridor, followed by Graham Pullen’s distinctive knock.
“Enter,” Darcy called, reluctantly returning his attention to sheep farm concerns.
Mr. Darcy,” the steward greeted him with a bow. “I’ve brought the accounts for the northern pastures as you requested.”
“Thank you, Pullen,” Darcy replied, accepting the ledger with a nod. “Has the post arrived?”
“Not yet, sir. Though it should be here within the hour, if the roads are passable after yesterday’s celebrations.”
Darcy nodded, trying to mask his impatience.
The letters he had sent to Bingley and the Hertfordshire magistrate should have garnered responses by now.
While his feelings for Elizabeth had grown independent of her past, he still desired clarity regarding William’s parentage before formalizing his intentions.
“Very good,” he said, returning his attention to the ledger. “Please inform me when it arrives.”
“Of course, sir.” Pullen hesitated, then added, “If I may say so, the harvest festival was a great success. The tenants were most appreciative of your participation.”
“It was a pleasant evening,” Darcy agreed, his tone deliberately neutral, though the memory of Elizabeth in his arms was more alluring than ledger columns swimming amongst the crop reports.
The sound of carriage wheels on the gravel drew his attention from Elizabeth’s fine attributes.
“We weren’t expecting visitors, were we? ”
Pullen went to the window. “A hackney coach, sir. Rather shabby looking. I cannot imagine who might arrive in such a conveyance.”
Darcy joined his steward at the window, frowning at the sight of the bedraggled vehicle that had come to a halt before the main entrance.
The paint was faded, the wheels caked with mud from the journey, and the overall appearance suggested either poverty or extreme haste on the part of the passenger.
“Most peculiar,” he murmured, watching as the coachman climbed down to open the door.
The passenger who emerged caused Darcy’s blood to freeze in his veins.
Even disheveled and travel-stained, there could be no mistaking the pompous bearing and clerical dress of Mr. William Collins.
He’d met the buffoon at Rosings Park when Lady Catherine had announced her selection for the advowson she owned.
“Good God,” Darcy breathed, his hands clenching involuntarily. “It cannot be.”
“Sir?” Graham inquired, noting his master’s sudden rigidity.
“The gentleman alighting from the coach,” Darcy said through gritted teeth. “Do you recognize him?”
Graham squinted through the glass. “I cannot say that I do, sir. Though he appears to be a clergyman, judging by his dress.”
“Indeed he is,” Darcy replied grimly, watching as Collins straightened his wrinkled coat and surveyed the house with obvious desperation. “Mr. William Collins of Hunsford parish. His presence here can mean only one thing—he has finally worked up the courage to face the consequences of his actions.”
“Shall I refuse him admittance, sir?” Graham asked, clearly sensing his master’s displeasure.
“No,” Darcy said decisively, moving toward the door. “I shall receive Mr. Collins myself. It is past time he and I had a frank discussion about his treatment of Miss Bennet.”
Georgiana caught his arm as he passed. “Fitzwilliam, what does this mean? Who is Mr. Collins?”
“He is,” Darcy said with cold precision, “the man responsible for Elizabeth’s current circumstances. The father of her child, who abandoned them both rather than face his obligations like a gentleman.”
Georgiana’s gasp followed him as he strode from the library, his earlier contentment replaced by a fury that had been simmering to a full boil. Finally, he would have the opportunity to confront the coward who had ruined Elizabeth and left her to bear the shame alone.
“Show Mr. Collins to my study,” Darcy commanded the footman who appeared in response to the bell. “I shall receive him there directly.”
“You must have received intelligence I did not possess,” Georgiana mumbled, her hands fluttering like panicked butterflies. “I shall, perhaps go to the music room.”
Darcy strode to the study, positioning himself behind the desk in a position of authority.
“Mr. Darcy! Thank Providence I have found you at last!” Collins rushed into the study, his words tumbling over themselves.
“I have traveled day and night to reach you, sir. The most terrible accusations have been made against my character, and I must—that is, I hope to clear my name of these calumnies.”
“Mr. Collins,” Darcy acknowledged with icy formality, not offering his hand or any other gesture of welcome. “State your business. I have limited time and less patience for pleasantries.”
Collins blinked rapidly. “Yes, of course. Most direct. You, Mr. Darcy, are Lady Catherine’s esteemed nephew.
A word from you might facilitate my restoration to the most generous living that was promised to me at Hunsford Parsonage.
For you see, I have been the victim of the most foul and unfounded accusations that have been leveled against my character and moral standing. ”
“Indeed, and what might those accusations be?”
“A grievous misunderstanding, no doubt.” Mr Collins swallowed, his complexion paling.
“That I am involved with the scandal befalling a Miss Elizabeth Bennet, a woman your aunts have taken to protect out of a surfeit of Christian charity, I daresay. A falsehood so thoroughly repugnant to my principles and sacred calling that I cannot comprehend how such a slander gained credence among respectable society.”
“You dare deny your role in Miss Bennet’s downfall?” Darcy’s voice lowered dangerously. “That you sought to correct it by offering for her hand, and that when she rejected it, no doubt out of capriciousness, that you never rectified it, not even when she became heavily with child?”
The color drained completely from Collins’s face, leaving him pale as parchment. “Sir, I swear before Almighty God, I have never… that is, I would never… the very suggestion is abhorrent to every principle I hold sacred!”
“Your principles,” Darcy spat, “appear to be as flexible as your courage. You compromised a gentlewoman and abandoned her to bear the consequences alone. You destroyed her reputation, forced her family to cast her out, and left an innocent child to grow up without his father’s name or protection.”
“No!” Collins’s voice cracked with desperation. “Mr. Darcy, I implore you to believe me—I have never touched Miss Elizabeth Bennet or any other woman inappropriately. I am a man of God, bound by sacred vows of moral conduct. The very accusation you make is a crime against everything I represent!”
“Yet your own actions betray you,” Darcy countered relentlessly. “The timing is unmistakable, the child bears your name, and your sudden departure from your parish suggests a consciousness of guilt. ”
“My departure was precipitated by your aunt. Lady Catherine, upon hearing these slanderous reports concerning my conduct with Miss Elizabeth, withdrew her patronage. Without her support, I could not maintain my position at Hunsford.” His voice cracked slightly.
“I was shunned by Hertfordshire society entirely. Even the Bennets, my own relations, refused to receive me. All for an offense I never committed!”
“Your denials ring hollow, Mr. Collins,” he said with cold finality. “However, I am prepared to offer you an opportunity to make amends for your past failings.”
“Amends?” Collins seized upon the word with pathetic eagerness. “Yes, sir, anything! What would you have me do?”
“The boy—William—requires legitimacy and social standing. I am prepared to adopt him as my ward, to provide him with every advantage of education and position that his natural intelligence deserves.” Darcy fixed Collins with a steely gaze.
“In exchange, you will sign legal documents renouncing any claim to paternal rights, thereby clearing the way for his advancement.”
Collins stared at him with uncomprehending horror. “Paternal rights? Sir, you speak as if I have acknowledged this child, when I maintain my complete innocence in his creation!”