Page 53 of Mr. Darcy’s Forgotten Heir (Pride and Prejudice Variations #1)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

MORAL RECKONING

Elizabeth assessed the assembly placed before her.

One moment, she and her son, along with Mary had enjoyed a brisk autumn walk through the sheep fields, peaceful and pastoral.

Now, as if stepping onto a stage, she surveyed the actors staring at her.

Mr. Collins—that obsequious, pompous man who had once proposed to her with all the sensitivity of a farmyard rooster—faced Darcy with a hostility unbefitting a man of the cloth.

Lady Eleanor had just arrived and was still in her traveling clothes and Georgiana had descended the staircase, her eyes darting between her brother and Elizabeth.

But it was William who truly stopped her heart. Her son, oblivious to the tension crackling through the air, had spotted Darcy and was running toward him with outstretched arms.

“Da-see! Da-see!” he called happily. “Up! Up!”

She caught Mary’s arm, steadying herself from the storm of emotions raging within. The venomous words Mr. Collins uttered set her heart in a tumble. Whatever gentleman fathered Miss Elizabeth’s child, it was not I .

Of course, it was not the toad, Collins, but who had accused him? Darcy?

Mr. Collins recovered first.

“Cousin Elizabeth!” he exclaimed, his voice carrying that familiar tone of false solicitude that had always set her teeth on edge. “So it is true! You are here, and with a… a child?”

William had reached Darcy, who automatically lifted him into his arms while glaring at Collins as if he were a beetle to be squashed.

“Mr. Collins,” Elizabeth acknowledged with the barest civility politeness demanded. “I confess I am surprised to encounter you at Bellfield Grange. I understood you to be settled at Hunsford.”

“Cousin Elizabeth, I cannot express the relief I feel at finding you in good health. When I learned of your… unfortunate circumstances… I was most grievously concerned for your welfare. When I learned that Lady Eleanor Blackmore had taken you under her protection, I felt compelled by Christian duty to offer what assistance I could in clarifying certain misunderstandings.”

Lady Eleanor raised an elegant eyebrow. “Misunderstandings, Mr. Collins? I was not aware there were any requiring clarification.”

Collins straightened, apparently recognizing an opportunity to address someone of consequence.

“Your ladyship, I am deeply honored by your attention. I have come to seek the intervention of Mr. Darcy in clearing my name of the most heinous slanders. It seems I have been accused of… of improper conduct toward Miss Elizabeth here, resulting in…” His gaze darted toward William with theatrical horror.

“Circumstances which any gentleman of moral character would find abhorrent to contemplate.”

Elizabeth felt rather than saw Darcy’s gaze upon her, searching her face for reaction. She maintained a placid expression, feeling as if she were on trial.

“Perhaps,” Lady Eleanor suggested smoothly, “this conversation would be better conducted inside the drawing room, away from servants’ ears and young children’s understanding. ”

“An excellent suggestion,” Darcy agreed. His hand had settled protectively on William’s back, a gesture so natural that Elizabeth’s throat constricted.

Mary stepped forward. “I shall take William to the nursery. He has had a long walk and should rest.”

“No!” William protested, tightening his grip on Darcy’s coat. “Stay Da-see!”

Elizabeth saw Darcy flinch at the child’s insistence.

“William,” she said gently, “go with Aunt Mary for now. You may see Mr. Darcy again at dinner.”

After a brief negotiation involving promises of sweets and stories, William reluctantly transferred to Mary’s arms. As her sister carried him away, Elizabeth whispered, “Remain with him, please.” Mary’s slight nod confirmed her understanding—keep William safely away from whatever storm was about to break.

“Mr. Collins,” Lady Eleanor said with the perfect blend of authority and politeness that only the truly well-bred could achieve, “you will accompany us to the drawing room. Georgiana, perhaps you would ask Mrs. Honywood to send refreshments?”

Georgiana, still hovering anxiously at the top of the steps, nodded and disappeared inside, though not before casting a pleading glance at Elizabeth, almost as if she believed her brother were in danger.

Once seated in the drawing room—Elizabeth and Lady Eleanor on the settee, Darcy standing near the fireplace, and Collins perched uncomfortably on the edge of a chair—a tense silence fell.

Elizabeth couldn’t comprehend how she had offended Mr. Collins, other than refusing his very odious request for her hand in marriage.

“Now, Mr. Collins,” Lady Eleanor began, her tone making it clear who controlled this conversation, “you mentioned misunderstandings that required clarification. Pray, what precisely did you mean?”

Collins drew himself up, his chest puffing like a pigeon preparing to strut. “Lady Eleanor, I fear you have been most grievously deceived by this enterprising young woman. ”

Elizabeth caught a gasp from Darcy before she felt her own cheeks heating.

“I fail to see how refusing your proposal is deceiving you, Cousin Collins,” Elizabeth corrected calmly. “I rejected you because we would have made each other miserable. Your presence here today suggests the same.”

Collins’s lips thinned at the interruption.

“Perhaps. But what followed, Cousin Elizabeth, is where the true misunderstanding lies. Rumors have recently began to circulate that I had… compromised you. That after your rejection, I had behaved in a manner inconsistent with my sacred calling.” His voice rose in indignation.

“I, who have always conducted myself with the utmost propriety, especially toward young ladies under my spiritual guidance!”

“And you believe Miss Bennet is the source of these rumors?” Lady Eleanor asked, her tone betraying nothing of her thoughts.

“Who else would benefit from such calumny?” Collins replied, gaining confidence as he warmed to his theme.

“When I learned that she had secured a position in your household—one of the most respected families in England, connected to Lady Catherine de Bourgh herself—I could not help but wonder at the coincidence.”

Elizabeth could remain silent no longer. “Mr. Collins, are you suggesting that I fabricated a tale of impropriety, abandoned my family home, endured social exile, and subjected myself and my son to the judgment of strangers… merely to secure patronage?”

“Merely that a young woman of… shall we say, flexible moral standards… might find it advantageous to claim victimization rather than acknowledge her own role in her downfall. The protection of such distinguished families as the Fitzwilliams naturally provides considerable security for one in need of shelter from the consequences of her choices.”

“How thoughtful of you to consider my welfare so carefully,” Elizabeth replied, taking on a cutting tone.

“How reassuring to know that spreading unfounded speculation about young women under the protection of noble families falls within your pastoral duties. I confess my understanding of clerical conduct must be sadly deficient.”

Collins had the grace to look momentarily discomfited, though he rallied quickly. “I suggest only that desperate circumstances sometimes lead to desperate measures. The unmarried female with limited prospects?—”

“Has significantly more integrity than you credit her with,” Lady Eleanor interjected smoothly. “Mr. Collins, I have known Miss Bennet for over a year now. I find her to be a young woman of exceptional character and principle. Your insinuations border on slander.”

Elizabeth felt a rush of gratitude toward Lady Eleanor, though she kept her expression neutral. Collins’s accusations were not unexpected—indeed, they were precisely what she had anticipated from a man who had never understood her character in the slightest.

“I mean no disrespect, Lady Blackmore,” Collins backpedaled hastily.

“Your Christian charity in sheltering Cousin Elizabeth is most admirable. I merely wished to clear my name of false accusations that have destroyed my livelihood and standing in society. Lady Catherine was most distressed by the rumors?—”

“I am well acquainted with my sister’s opinions,” Lady Eleanor said dryly. “And I form my own judgments based on observation rather than gossip.”

Darcy, who had remained silent throughout the exchange, finally spoke.

His voice carried that precise, measured quality Elizabeth remembered from their earliest acquaintance—when he had been determined to maintain control in every situation.

“Mr. Collins, you have stated your case. Is there anything else you wished to add before taking your leave?”

“I… that is… I merely sought to ensure that the full circumstances were understood,” he stammered.

“The full circumstances,” Darcy’s voice cut through the exchange with arctic precision, “appear to include your own consciousness of guilt driving you to desperate measures. Your attempt to deflect suspicion onto Miss Bennet’s character is as transparent as it is contemptible.”

Collins straightened with the sort of wounded dignity that only the thoroughly exposed could muster.

“I see that reason will not prevail in this household. Very well. But mark my words, Mr. Darcy—Cousin Elizabeth has always possessed a talent for securing the admiration of gentlemen far above her station. First Lieutenant Wickham, and now yourself.”

The name hung in the air like an unwashed chamberpot, though Elizabeth noted with detached interest that it seemed to affect Darcy more than herself. A spasm twitched beneath one eye and the furrows between his brows deepened into chasms.

“Your insinuations are unwelcome and unwarranted,” Darcy said coldly. “I suggest you depart immediately, Mr. Collins, before you further damage what remains of your reputation.”

The parson gathered his battered traveling bag with what remained of his dignity and stalked toward the door, pausing only to deliver a final, venomous glance toward Elizabeth. “Cousin, I pray that your current circumstances prove as… permanent… as you clearly hope them to be.”

“Good day, Mr. Collins,” Lady Eleanor said with finality, ringing the bell for a footman. “Vernon will show you out.”

As Collins was escorted from the room, the tension that had been holding Elizabeth upright seemed to evaporate, leaving her knees disconcertingly weak. She sank back onto the settee, drawing a deep breath to steady herself.

“Miss Bennet,” Lady Eleanor said gently, “perhaps you would care to refresh yourself after your walk? The morning has proved… eventful.”

Elizabeth recognized the diplomatic suggestion for what it was—an opportunity to withdraw gracefully after the distressing scene. She nodded and ran her hand over her forehead where her curls had loosened from their pins. If she hadn’t spread rumors implicating Collins, that toad, then who did ?

“I apologize, Lady Eleanor,” Elizabeth pushed herself from the settee, “that you had to witness my father’s cousin’s theatrics.

His appearance today was surprising. I would be the last person to spread vicious lies about him, and I can assure you, although I don’t suppose I need to, that man would be the last person I would ever endure a conversation with, much less… ”

She dropped off, glancing at Darcy whose demeanor had darkened to a fierce scowl. Not for the first time did she wonder whether Darcy had corresponded with his aunt Catherine about Collins.

As she moved to the drawing room door, Darcy moved to her side. “I believe, Miss Bennet, that you and I have matters to discuss.”

The request was politely phrased, but Elizabeth recognized the underlying command. She inclined her head with as much dignity as she could muster. “As you wish, Mr. Darcy.”

Lady Eleanor’s sharp eyes moved between them. “Fitzwilliam, perhaps this conversation might be better postponed until?—”

“No, Aunt Eleanor,” Darcy replied with quiet finality. “I believe the time for postponement has passed.”

“Very well,” Lady Eleanor rose with her customary grace. “I believe I shall speak with Mrs. Honywood about dinner arrangements. The day has been quite eventful already, and we must ensure proper nourishment for recovery.”