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How dare he venture to tell me how to act? Does he even realize how much he and his aunt are alike? Self-important, arrogant, and all knowing. Elizabeth commenced wondering about the gentleman’s sister, Miss Georgiana Darcy. This was not the first time her ladyship had boasted of her niece’s accomplishments.

No doubt, she remains under her brother’s protection. He must enjoy having someone he can rightfully instruct in how to think and how to feel. Elizabeth was in no need of such guidance. Even her own father did not tell her what she could and could not do.

I have my own opinion on how I ought to comport myself, of whom I should be wary and whom I should trust. My judgment has not failed me yet.

When Darcy and his aunt were alone in the foyer, Lady Catherine said, “If it were not for the fact that Miss Bennet is so far beneath you in consequence as to be laughable, I might take umbrage at your being here. However, I would ask that you do not interrupt the young woman. Her time is much better employed practicing, and yours is much better employed attending my daughter, Anne.”

Deciding it would be pointless to argue with his aunt on this point, Darcy held his tongue. Indeed, that was a battle that he had successfully dodged countless times in the past and he could wait a while longer until the moment was right. For the time being, he could hardly wait to escape his aunt. Besides, the last thing he needed was to be reminded of his obligation to his so-called intended. If his time alone with Elizabeth had taught him anything, it was that he would not let family demands dictate his decisions for his own future. Marrying his cousin Anne had never been an option.

Still, his struggle over his feelings for Elizabeth was far from over. A man of his station could not reasonably entertain ideas of marriage without some attention to his bride’s standing in society—especially a gentleman of his consequence. For so long as he could recall, he had been a target of eager matchmaking mamas and young ladies from the best families in the ton. He knew nothing about Miss Bennet’s family, aside from the fact that her father was a country gentleman whose estate was entailed away from the female line to that ridiculous Mr. Collins.

If that is the worst of it, her circumstances are hardly untenable. Derbyshire is a long way from Kent—even from Hertfordshire for that matter.

CHAPTER 6

JUST AS HE PLEASES

This was the first Sunday since Elizabeth’s arrival that did not entail tea at Rosings after the sermon. She looked forward to the liberty of an afternoon away from not only Lady Catherine but from her cousin Mr. Collins as well, for he and Charlotte were invited to one of the parishioners’ homes. Elizabeth was not inclined to go with them, and hence, she chose not to—a feat that was infinitely easier to accomplish than eschewing an invitation from Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

Trying as hard as she did, Elizabeth continued to endure the overbearing aristocrat with measured civility and the requisite impertinence when the woman’s curiosity, veiled insults, and derisive innuendos would not otherwise be repressed. Her situation was not entirely bad, for she could rightly say her exhibition skills had improved significantly what with all her practicing of late.

Mr. Darcy seems to enjoy listening to me play well enough, she thought. However, Lady Catherine complained that Elizabeth needed more practice else she would never be considered accomplished, even for a young woman of Elizabeth’s station as someone whom her ladyship had surmised by now might just as well be a governess or a companion.

Elizabeth thought of the irony of Lady Catherine’s disparagement. She laments my chances of finding a husband owing to my age as well as my station when I wager I am more likely to marry one of her nephews before her daughter does.

For a while, Elizabeth allowed herself to engage in fanciful notions of what it would be like to be married to Mr. Darcy. Though she would admit it to no one, she was beginning to look forward to time in his company. She had hardly made a start of imagining herself as Mr. Darcy’s wife before she banished the thought.

Her ladyship would suffer a fit of apoplexy if she were to suppose for one instance that I might be the means of ruining her hopes for a union between her nephew and her daughter. The makings of a great financial dynasty would be at stake—one too tempting for even Mr. Darcy to renounce. Of that Elizabeth had no doubt. In her limited experience, men of Mr. Darcy’s ilk wanted nothing more than to expand their wealth and power. She further suspected that it mattered not one bit to such ambitious men the required means of accomplishing their goals.

On the other hand, Lady Catherine’s nephew Colonel Fitzwilliam was worthy of serious consideration on Elizabeth’s part. In all the ways that mattered most, he satisfied her notion of everything a true gentleman ought to be. Of the two of her ladyship’s nephews, he was by far the more amiable. Elizabeth liked him very much. She was confident that she would be just as happy with him as she would with anyone else.

A feeling deep down inside of her suggested otherwise. It had been a while since any gentleman’s presence wreaked such havoc on her sensibilities and made her tremble inside with a look or a word or a touch. Mr. Darcy. What was this power he had over her? She was not afraid of him; of that she was certain. If only her mind could persuade her heart not to skip a beat whenever he walked in the room.

Deciding her time was better spent perusing Jane’s latest letter than deliberating what in all likelihood would never be, Elizabeth commenced doing just that. Walking along with her mind full of all Jane had to say about those matters pertaining to Lydia’s Brighton adventure and Kitty’s unrelenting protests, Elizabeth was surprised upon looking up that Colonel Fitzwilliam was meeting her.

What a fortunate coincidence for her. She tucked her letter away and smiled. “I did not know that you ever walked this way, sir.”

“I generally like to make a tour of the park every now and again. I intend to call on the parsonage. Are you planning to go much farther? If not, it will be my great pleasure if you would turn and accompany me on this fine day.”

“I shall be delighted to walk with you, sir,” Elizabeth said, turning. They commenced walking to the parsonage together.

“How much longer can we expect the pleasure of your company before you return to town?”

“That, Miss Bennet, is entirely at my cousin’s discretion. He arranges things just as he pleases.”

“I am not surprised. Mr. Darcy, as far as I can tell, likes to have his own way.” Elizabeth spoke from experience. He had, after all, taken up the task of accompanying her from Rosings to Kent, and all because she had turned down the offer of his carriage.

“Indeed, he does, as do we all. He simply has the better means of accomplishing it than others because he is rich. Money is power, as they say. As a younger son I speak feelingly, as I must be inured to self-denial and dependence.”

She laughed a little at this picture he painted of himself. “Surely you jest, sir. I am given to believe the younger son of an earl must know very little of either.”

“That is where you are mistaken, Miss Bennet. The coincidence of one’s order of birth can mean the difference between inheriting all of a family’s wealth and having to take up the law or some other respectable livelihood, as in my case, becoming an officer.”

The colonel sighed. “Indeed, as the second son of an earl, I am not even at liberty to marry where I like. Our rather expensive habits make us far too dependent. That in conjunction with our families’ rank effectively prevents us from marrying without some attention to money. My excellent father, for one, would be most displeased were I to fail in securing an alliance that would alleviate him of my financial burden and possibly bolster even further our family’s noble status.”

Thinking the colonel’s lengthy speech was in some way directed at her, Elizabeth colored a little. She did not intend to have him think she was affected, and she quickly recovered. She playfully teased, “Pray what is the usual price for an earl’s second son?”

He answered in the same tone as the question was asked, and soon that particular subject was dropped. Directing their intercourse back to where it had started, she inquired of Mr. Darcy. “I wonder he did not join you to call at the parsonage. On the other hand, I suppose he might have found such an occasion rather tedious in light of his taciturn nature.”