A Convenient Marriage Volume 1 Read online

  “Oh, yes! My two younger daughters, you know, Mr Darcy, Catherine and Lydia, do you remember them from the Meryton assembly? Such happy, jolly creatures!”

  Mr Darcy intimated that he did, and Lizzy found herself watching him so closely that she could hardly miss the brief flash of irritation that crossed his features at the memory of her sisters. Lizzy bristled in annoyance. It was one thing for her to admit privately that Lydia and Kitty could be rowdy and unladylike, but to see Mr Darcy silently possessing such an opinion merely made him still more obnoxious in her estimation.

  “Well, they were determined to walk all the way to Meryton and visit the regiment! Is that not a jolly occupation for them?”

  “I wonder that you are so fond of them spending time with such people, Mrs Bennet,” Caroline's voice was smooth, but Lizzy could detect the danger. Mrs Bennet was less perceptive and laughed off any suggestion of impropriety.

  “On the contrary, I envy them their youth and vitality!” She laughed. “I do think the soldiers such amiable, handsome young men. Do not you agree, Mr Darcy?”

  “Not all soldiers,” Darcy grumbled. He cleared his throat, glancing up and noticing Elizabeth's eyes on his. “That is, I cannot speak of all soldiers. Those I am acquainted with I consider to be fine, upstanding men.”

  “That’s right!” Caroline trilled. “Your cousin is a colonel, is not he?” She turned a triumphant smile towards Elizabeth. “Colonel Fitzwilliam is due to stay with us a few days this week. When did he say he was to arrive, Mr Darcy?”

  “Soon,” Mr Darcy said, vaguely. “Charles, I wonder if I might ask a question about one of your horses. I noticed it limping a little last time we went out and it occurs to me that perhaps it has a touch of laminitis...”

  Charles, unhappily taken away from the quiet conversation he had been having with Jane, turned a pained look towards his friend.

  “You had better take it up with Hodges, in that case, Darcy. You know I am hardly an expert in horses. I can ride ‘em and appreciate ‘em as well as any other gentleman but beyond that...!” he shrugged, comically, and the party laughed.

  Jane has done well to find such a happy, well-meaning gentleman to fall in love with, Lizzy thought, watching the pair return to their conversation with a soft smile. A sharp sigh from Mr Darcy drew her attention, and she noticed he did not regard the couple with anything matching her affection. His perpetual scowl was back in place, with such ferocity that Lizzy almost laughed to see it, for he did look such a comical version of himself. What a pity Mr Bingley’s friend has not one-tenth of his amiability, she thought, with a wistful sigh of her own. Certainly, Mr Darcy offered much to be admired. He was handsome, and wealthy, and utterly too aware of the fact, and of his position in society relative to others. Lizzy lifted her chin. She had never admired pride in a person, and Mr Darcy possessed it in spades.

  Well, it is not for my own sake or Mr Darcy’s that I am here, she reminded herself. I wish only to see dear Jane happy, and if Mr Bingley is the man who will make her so, then I will bear whoever he happens to surround himself with. His sister Caroline might be unavoidable, but Lizzy could not help but wish he had better taste in friends than Mr Darcy.

  As if her thoughts had taken wings, Mr Darcy looked up at this moment, meeting her eyes with his own, and looking away just as quickly. Well, Lizzy, she thought. It seems the feeling is mutual: Mr Darcy is precisely as fond of you as you are of him. What a pity we must be forced into proximity because of the affection we have for those who would choose one another!

  MR FITZWILLIAM DARCY propped his elbow on the corner of a table, and rested his chin on his hand, hoping to disguise his tiredness. He need not have worried over disguising it, for Mr Collins was oblivious to any discomfort in his companions, merely continuing on with his tale as if he were giving a sermon and not engaged in conversation.

  Darcy's eyes travelled over his friends. Jane and Mr Bingley were sitting with every impression of rapt attention, although Darcy fancied they were rather more concerned with observing, whilst not appearing to observe, one another. Mrs Bennet dozed contentedly in a corner, making no sound apart from the occasional snore which went unremarked upon by anybody present. Caroline Bingley made no effort to conceal her dislike of Mr Collins, affecting a snide smile whenever he happened to glance in her direction, and trying, whenever he paused for breath, to interrupt and recapture the conversation for her own ends. Mr Collins, for his part, was oblivious to her attempts and continued talking as if she had made no sound. Only Elizabeth Bennet seemed to share Darcy's predicament. She was, like her sister, giving an impression of rapt attention, but Darcy could tell from the way her eyes strayed first to the bookshelves, and then to the window, that her mind was actively seeking alternative engagement. Their eyes met, momentarily, and where Darcy hurried to glance away again, he got the impression that Elizabeth herself was prompted to laugh. She made a curious sound, disguised it as a cough, and when Mr Collins paused in his sermonizing to enquire after her health, assured him that she was “very well, thank you, only wondering if her cousin would be very much offended if she took a turn about the garden, in order to get some fresh air.” This request was leapt upon by Mr Bingley, who offered to escort both Miss Bennets on a tour of the property, and it was soon decided that the whole party would take a turn about the gardens, much to Caroline Bingley's muttered irritation.

  “I would much rather they take a turn about the property in the direction of Longbourn,” she whispered, close enough to Darcy that he would be the only one to hear it. “What on earth do they mean, bringing that wretched man here?”

  “I do not believe they had a great deal of choice,” Darcy remarked, drily.

  “In any case, I don’t doubt he was almost as eager to see you as Miss Eliza was,” Caroline said, with a sly smile. Darcy tried to ignore her. She had made three such mentions of Elizabeth Bennet in the past few days, ever since his innocent comment about her eyes had been taken entirely out of context. He might admire a woman for her appearance without pledging himself heart and soul to her, yet Caroline Bingley appeared to take the comment as a personal slight and was still exacting revenge upon him for it. And upon poor, unsuspecting Elizabeth, who had borne the brunt of Caroline’s sarcasm to her face, and criticism behind her back.

  “It is hardly my fault that Mr Collins views me as a link to my aunt,” he said, deciding not to acknowledge Caroline’s comments about Elizabeth at all, and confine his response solely to Mr Collins and Lady Catherine de Bourgh. “She is his patroness, and he is apparently eager to please her.”

  Caroline said nothing, but sniffed.

  “Well, of course, I am sure Lady Catherine is well worthy of his esteem, only -” Darcy did not listen any longer, for Charles let out a shout that caught his attention.

  “I say, Darcy, look who comes up the driveway! Is that not your cousin?”

  Darcy looked, and sure enough he detected the tall, broad-shouldered figure of Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam.

  “Good man!” he cried, shrugging off Caroline’s company, and striding forward to welcome his cousin with a hearty embrace. “I did not expect you so soon! Did you ride all the way from London?”

  “Almost,” Richard said, with an unreadable grin. “Only a slight detour once I reached Hertfordshire.” He glanced past Darcy to where Charles and Caroline stood with Mrs Bennet, Jane, Elizabeth and Mr Collins. “Now I must make my greatest thanks to Mr and Miss Bingley for allowing a wayward soldier to join their ranks for a few days.” He bowed low, which made Charles laugh with embarrassment, and Caroline nod, regally, as if such deference were the very least she expected from a visiting guest of Mr Darcy's, and one who had made his career in the army, rather than standing to inherit, as Darcy did. He was embarrassed on her behalf, but his cousin was such a good sort he doubted Richard would take any offence from such a haughty acknowledgement.

  “These are our neighbours, Colonel Fitzwilliam,” Mr Bingley said, remembering his role as h
ost. “Mrs Bennet, Miss Jane and Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and their cousin Mr Collins, from -”

  “Longbourn?” Richard offered, his eyes twinkling.

  Everyone glanced at him in surprise, and he permitted himself a moment of laughter, before offering his explanation.

  “Forgive me, I could not help but tease. I have come directly from Longbourn myself. You see, despite my cousin’s faultless directions, it appears I left my navigational brains behind me with my uniform. In short: I lost my way, and stumbled upon a fine looking house, where I stopped to enquire of the way to Netherfield. This house was called Longbourn, and a very kind gentleman - your father - directed me here with all welcome and goodwill. I am delighted to meet his wife, two more of his daughters, and his cousin, in such fine company.”

  “Two more?” Caroline asked, with unmistakable interest. Her ear for gossip was surely burning, for she arched an eyebrow and leaned closer in order that she might press Captain Fitzwilliam for details. “Which of the others did you meet already?”

  “A Miss Mary Bennet,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said, with a brief smile towards Elizabeth and Jane. “She is musical, I believe, or rather, she would be, were it not for uncultured oafs such as myself disturbing her peace and practice by clattering in unannounced.” He laughed, as if remembering some funny adventure that nobody else present was privy to.

  “Well!” Mrs Bennet breathed, pushing herself forward as if she had determined to know this new arrival better. “I am very pleased to hear that you have already met my husband, Mr -”

  “Colonel,” Darcy replied automatically.

  “Colonel Fitzwilliam.” Mrs Bennet beamed at him, but even Darcy could see the wheels turning in her head. Another eligible bachelor, and one already acquainted with half her family...

  “Come, Richard, no doubt you are tired and eager to rest after your journey,” Darcy said, eager to save his cousin from the same fate he and his friend had already suffered. “Even if you came by way of Longbourn it would have been a walk for you. Let’s go inside and we might speak for a moment or two while the party finishes their walk.”

  He escorted his cousin indoors before anybody - in particular Mrs Bennet or Caroline Bingley - could protest the idea.

  Chapter Three

  “It is good to see you, cousin!” Richard said, as he and Darcy were seated in a small study, both armed with brandies, and the door closed against the outside world. Darcy had ushered him into the small room, forgoing the parlour almost entirely. Had it been any other person but Darcy, Richard might have made some question about a surprising desire for privacy, but he knew his cousin well and felt certain this was to guard against the rest of their party hurrying back to join them too soon.

  “And I, you! I half feared you still suffering, from the contents of your last letter,” Darcy commented.

  “Only for such vivacious company as yours, William.” Richard saluted him with his brandy glass, and grinned toothily at the scowl his cousin sent in his direction. “You see? In London, I am greeted with smiles and good-humour. I have to come all the way out to the Hertfordshire countryside for a true Fitzwilliam Darcy welcome.”

  “Indeed,” Darcy grumbled, fixing his gaze on the contents of his glass, and watching the surface of the amber liquid ripple and reflect the light.

  “No, in all honesty, I needed the fortification of your company before I press on to Kent.” Richard grimaced. “Aunt Catherine has invited me to visit -”

  “Invited?”

  “Commanded.” Richard amended. “There was little option of my refusing. I could delay her only, and she was content enough to hear I would be stopping to visit you.” He took a sip of his drink. “I rather think she intends me to convince you to come on to Rosings with me, so that we might all be together for Christmas.” He grinned. “What a happy occasion that might be!”

  Darcy snorted, and Richard returned to his drink. He knew his cousin felt as uncomfortable as he did at Rosings - if not less so. Aunt Catherine had been fixing to match Darcy and her daughter Anne since the two were babies, and with every year that passed her hints became less and less nuanced. Poor Darcy had no interest in his cousin, beyond what was proper as his relation and friend, and Anne, too, had no love for Darcy, although Richard knew that she valued his friendship. It made for awkward conversation and even more awkward company, and he had often been forced to hone his good humour in an attempt to lighten the mood over a particularly dour dining table, or sitting around the piano.

  “And how is Georgiana?” he asked, his memory of the piano sparking another memory of his cousin, Darcy's sister, who was the most musical of the family. “Is she not here with you?”

  “No.” Darcy looked shocked at the notion. “She is quite content, and busy with her studies, her music, her...” he waved his hand, as if to encapsulate the mysterious world inhabited by young ladies, and which their elder brothers took less than little interest in.

  The cousins lapsed into companionable silence for a few moments, before Darcy cleared his throat and spoke again.

  “You visited Longbourn on your way here?”

  “I did,” Richard smiled. “It was not my intention, but it seems providence had other ideas. Mr Bennet seems a good fellow.”

  Darcy snorted.

  “Is not he?”

  “He is perhaps the most sensible member of the family,” Darcy conceded. “Except for -” he hesitated. “No, I wager him to be the most sensible, although he appears to be surrounded by enough women to make that count for little.”

  “How many daughters?” Richard grinned. “Four? No, five. I have met three now, I believe.” He shrugged his shoulders. “And fine ladies they seem, too. It is clear your friend Charles is somewhat smitten with the fair one - what was her name, Jane?”

  Darcy rolled his eyes skywards.

  “Ah, you disapprove!” Richard laughed. “But of course. When has Fitzwilliam Darcy ever approved of true love?”

  “I have no problem with true love,” Darcy countered. “I question that this is anything other than opportunity and taking advantage of my friend’s ability to develop affection at the first smile from a pretty face.”

  “Nothing wrong with a pretty face,” Richard said, cheerfully, recalling a certain unusually striking face that might even be called such, when it was adorned with the smile that had only fleetingly been upon it when they met. “Provided it does not conceal an ugly character.”

  “When did you become a philosopher?” Darcy said, grumpily.

  “Around the same time you became a misery, I expect.” Richard stood, striding over to Charles’ brandy decanter and pouring himself another healthy measure. “Come, William. There’s nothing wrong with falling in love. We all wish to do it sometime, surely?” He glanced out of the corner of his eye at his cousin, and was gratified to see him shift uncomfortably in his seat. Aha! So I have struck a nerve. “Take you, for example,”

  “Me, for example?” Darcy sighed, extravagantly. “What insights do our five minutes’ reacquaintance afford you on the state of my heart?”

  To any other man, Darcy’s tone might have sounded entirely oppositional, and full of foreboding. To Richard, this was the same boy he had fought with and bantered with all his life. He would not be so easily deterred.

  “You do not wish to marry our cousin, and so you avoid visiting Rosings, fearing Lady Catherine’s less-than-subtle attempts to engineer it, when there remains an altogether easier solution.”

  “Yes?” Darcy lifted his gaze. “And what might that be, for surely you have puzzled out an answer and wish to deliver it as a missive from heaven. Come, cousin. How shall I avoid a marriage I do not wish, without offending the family I value?”

  “Marry someone else.” Richard uttered the phrase with the utmost simplicity and straightforwardness.

  “So easy!” Darcy said, downing the last of his drink and returning his glass to the table top with a thump. “And who, pray, am I to marry?”

  �
�Well,” Richard leaned back against the bookshelves and folded his arms across his chest, eyeing his cousin with a merry expression upon his face. “There appears to be a house full of eligible young ladies just three miles yonder. Even discounting Jane - or perhaps one or two others that do not meet your particularly high standards, I can see that leaves you at least one other lady to choose from. Elizabeth Bennet, perhaps.” He was watching his cousin carefully, and did not miss the tiny muscle that tensed in Darcy's jaw at the mention of this particular young lady. Understanding his cousin perhaps better than he did himself, however, he did not pursue the matter, reckoning it would serve him better to circle back to the suggestion at a later time. Sensing Darcy was growing weary of the discussion he determined to resolve it quickly, and humorously.

  “Or, if not Elizabeth Bennet, then perhaps another lady closer to home.” His eyes twinkled with humour. “I am quite sure Caroline Bingley would not be averse to any interest you might show her.”

  “WELL, HERE WE ARE, home again,” Jane Bennet said, as she and Elizabeth crossed the threshold of Longbourn.

  “Mary!” Elizabeth cried, spotting her sister in the corridor. “What on earth are you doing lurking in the shadows like that, you scared us half to death!”