A Hasty Decision Read online

  A Hasty Decision

  By

  Wynne Mabry

  Copyright © 2019 Wynne Mabry

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or any portion thereof, in all forms whatsoever without permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual events or persons living or dead is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  PART ONE

  Mr. Darcy Makes Some Unfortunate Assumptions

  Colonel Fitzwilliam Makes His Feelings Known

  Elizabeth is Utterly Astonished

  A Futile Hope

  An Error is Corrected

  The Joy of a Love Match

  The Astonishment of Mr. Bingley’s Sisters

  Much to Communicate and More to Conceal

  Back at Longbourn

  A Lovely Day for a Wedding

  A Catastrophic Failure

  PART TWO

  Settling Down

  A Truly Lovely Day for a Wedding

  Anguish Amidst Happiness

  A Culmination of Bitterness

  Mr. Darcy Finds Some Peace

  A Trying Time

  Gratitude and Quietude

  A Fresh Beginning

  Meddling and Quarreling

  An Abundance of Discontented Ladies

  A Great Deal of Change, and Some Things Still the Same

  Mired in Marital Misery

  An Awkward Conversation

  The End of the Bed

  PART THREE

  A Very Convenient Situation

  Peace at an End

  A Few Enemies but Many More Friends

  A Shocking Revelation

  A Short-Lived Truce is Followed by Another Skirmish

  Forever in a Moment

  Pomp and Pettiness

  Reckless Moves and Cautious Ones

  New Prospects

  An Eligible Offer

  A Line is Crossed

  An Ultimatum Is Delivered

  Insulted in the Worst Possible Way

  A Trouble Shared

  The End of Hope

  PART FOUR

  No Light at the End of the Tunnel

  A Necessary Separation

  An Arrangement is Made

  A Heartfelt Conversation

  An Astonishing Discovery

  The Beginning of the End

  Another Storm to Weather

  Standing Together

  For All the World To See

  An Irrefutable Case

  Recriminations and Threats

  Without a Scratch

  What is Due to Family

  Free at Last

  The Greatest Joy of All

  EPILOGUE

  Of Ships and Sense and Settlements

  Of Marriages and Things

  And Why There Can Always Be More Perfection

  PART ONE

  Mr. Darcy Makes Some Unfortunate Assumptions

  “You are very quiet this morning,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said.

  “I was thinking about something,” Mr. Darcy replied.

  “Something of great importance, apparently. Here we are at the parsonage, and you have not said more than a dozen words to me while we were walking.”

  “It was nothing important,” Mr. Darcy said quite untruthfully. His proposal had been a matter of great significance. Elizabeth Bennet’s refusal had been even more significant.

  He had been quiet on the walk to Hunsford Parsonage because he was wondering about the effect his letter might have had upon her. Had she believed him? Did she regret having been so insulting toward him last night?

  He would see her again in a moment. Would she apologise? Or at least look regretful? It would not be possible for her to speak openly in the presence of others, but he would settle for a remorseful expression and a penitent tone.

  It was not that he wanted her to change her mind and accept his proposal. He just wanted her to give some sign of acknowledgement that he had never wronged Mr. Wickham or intentionally caused her sister pain. That his concerns had been valid and his efforts to protect his friend had been reasonable. That was all. He accepted that all his hopes were at an end.

  As his cousin knocked at the door, Mr. Darcy felt nervous about the imminent encounter. Had his letter been enough? Was she still angry that he had been so honest about the inferiority of her connections?

  A maid let them in, and he steeled himself to see Elizabeth again, hoping that his explanation had changed her opinion of him. Perhaps she could see him differently now that she understood the situation better. Maybe his hopes were not impossible.

  Everything he had been telling himself was a lie, he now admitted to himself. He had not accepted defeat. He had not stopped wishing that she could be his wife. He was longing to see a change of heart in her eyes.

  They entered the parlour, and all he saw was Mrs. Collins and her sister. Elizabeth was not there.

  This possibility had not occurred to him. He had given her his letter of explanation over an hour ago. That was plenty of time in which to read a letter, even one as lengthy as his had necessarily been. It was plenty of time to make up one’s mind about its contents. Time in which to realise that an apology was owed for some unfair accusations.

  Had she read it at all? Or had she disposed of it without looking at any of the words which had been so painful for him to write? Either way, it was clear that she did not feel any regret. There would be no apology. No change of heart.

  Obviously, she was avoiding him. She would not still be out walking after so long. No, she had anticipated that he would call to take his leave of them and had decided to stay away from the parsonage until he had gone.

  Making a great effort to be polite, he said a few formal words of farewell to Mrs. Collins and Miss Lucas, and then excused himself.

  “I shall stay a little longer,” his cousin said. “I would like to say goodbye to Miss Bennet in person.”

  “Give her my regards if you are so fortunate as to see her.” Mr. Darcy said this for the sake of form, but he was not feeling any regard. How could one have regard for a lady who refused to accept the truth? She was in love with Wickham and stubbornly set against hearing any presentation of the facts other than the false one which she had already accepted.

  With the weather being so fine, the front windows were open, and he heard laughter as he was walking back down the path. No doubt his cousin had said something amusing, as he so often did. Richard had no difficulty in making friends with all sorts of people, as he had lately done with the three ladies at the parsonage. They were very much at ease in talking with him.

  But not with me, Mr. Darcy thought. It was all formality when they addressed him. Mrs. Collins treated him with great respect, and her sister seemed almost terrified of him. Perhaps Miss Lucas really was terrified. Miss Bennet had made it sound as though he was a dreadful person.

  While crossing the park on his way back to Rosings, he wondered where she was concealing herself. Was she observing him, waiting for his departure and her opportunity to hurry back to the parsonage and join her friends in being amused by his cousin?

  In fact, Elizabeth had not been hiding. The contents of Mr. Darcy’s letter, which he had pressed into her hand that morning, had been of such import as to keep her walking for a long time. He had been wrong to think that an hour was sufficient time for contemplating the things he had revealed. She had read, and reread the letter, and been greatly occupied with thoughts which would have gratified Mr. Darcy if he could have known them.

  She did believe him. After considering his information and recollecting details of the past
, she had arrived at the conclusion that Mr. Wickham, whom she had thought so agreeable, had falsely represented himself and his quarrel with Mr. Darcy. Even worse, she realised that she had been biased by her dislike for that gentleman. She still thought Mr. Darcy proud and disagreeable, but his honesty and integrity were not in question.

  After all, he had openly admitted to separating Mr. Bingley from her sister. And as far as that was concerned, he had some understandable reasons. Although still annoyed with him for doing it, she was able to understand his position better since reading his letter. He was right that some members of her family did not behave with propriety. Most of its members, actually. Having often been ashamed of them herself, she could not deny that his opinion was justified.

  While Elizabeth was feeling the mortification of certain memories from the past, Mr. Darcy was believing her to be irreversibly under the sway of Mr. Wickham. If only they had chanced to meet at this moment, these feelings would have been apparent in her manner and her expression. A little difference in his route or her timing would have made all the difference in the world. He would have known her to be regretful, which would have kept him from the path he was about to choose.

  It was unfortunate that he returned to Rosings without having any idea of her feelings. It was more unfortunate that his cousin was not with him, and his aunt was sitting on her own in the morning room, with the door left open so that she could hear her nephews return.

  “Is that you, Fitzwilliam?” Lady Catherine called out as he walked past the door.

  Mr. Darcy had been hoping to go and sit in the library on his own, but now he did his best to disguise his bad mood and went to join her.

  “Is Richard not with you?” she asked.

  “No, he stayed longer at the parsonage.”

  “He has been spending an extraordinary amount of time there,” she observed. “I am beginning to worry that he has formed some foolish attachment to Miss Bennet.”

  “Richard is never foolish,” Mr. Darcy said. “He is just being friendly.”

  “I hope that is all. He cannot afford to make a reckless match.”

  “He knows that very well. There is no reason to worry about his choices.” Mr. Darcy thought how blind his aunt was. Some evidence of the real danger had been under her nose these past few weeks, but she had guessed nothing of his feelings.

  “On the subject of matches,” she said, delving into something which he had known she would bring up sooner later, “I really think it is high time that you and Anne were married. You will be eight-and-twenty this year. That is not too young for settling down and starting a family.”

  He could not dispute that point. Settling down was just what he had been wanting to do. He would like a family of his own, but he had dreamed of those children having Elizabeth as their mother. An image came to his mind of her body rounded with his child.

  “I take it from your silence that you have no objections.”

  He was wrenched from his beautiful vision by this harsh word. The lady he desired had objected to him. He had laid his love before her and been violently rejected. She would never share his life or bear his children.

  “Perhaps we might finally set a date,” Lady Catherine said.

  Why not, Mr. Darcy thought. If he could not have the woman he loved, then he did not much care whom he married. He might as well make his family happy, and at least the marriage would offer him one source of satisfaction. He had often wished to see the tenants at Rosings treated better, and as Anne’s husband, he would have the power to improve their lot in life.

  “A month from now?” he suggested in reckless abandon.

  She smiled, which was a rare thing for Lady Catherine de Bourgh. “A month will do very well. It is a little hasty, but I am pleased to see that you are so enthusiastic. This is indeed a wonderful day. I shall go and tell Anne the good news straight away. She was just having her rest, but for such an important reason, I can wake her a little early.”

  She hurried away, leaving Mr. Darcy feeling the shock of what he had just done. On a moment’s impulse, he had tied himself to a lady he had never meant to marry. He was almost tempted to run after his aunt and say that he had changed his mind, but it was too late for that. She would not allow him any change of mind.

  But there really was no reason to panic, he told himself. This was the most logical choice for him. A lady who would be happy to receive the news of their engagement from her mother, instead of a proper proposal, was a very suitable bride for a man who had decided upon a loveless marriage.

  Colonel Fitzwilliam Makes His Feelings Known

  Naturally Lady Catherine was eager to share the news with Colonel Fitzwilliam when he returned from the parsonage. Mr. Darcy saw the shock in his cousin’s eyes, which were turned sharply upon him, but the feelings which lay behind that expression could not be voiced in their aunt’s presence.

  It was some time before they could excuse themselves from her company. She was enthusiastic to talk about the culmination of her hopes and the joy which her dear sister would have felt if only Lady Anne Darcy could have been with them. “And your father, too,” she said. “He was just as eager as we were for the union of Rosings and Pemberley.”

  It was as though there were no people involved, Mr. Darcy thought as she talked on and on. It was to be a marriage of estates. Purely a business matter. Well, he had an aptitude for managing business affairs competently, so he should be able to make a success of this endeavor.

  His future wife had come downstairs and was sitting with them, but she contributed nothing to the conversation. Other than looking slightly less bored than usual, she appeared to be little affected by all of this. Her absence of emotion was just what Mr. Darcy desired. She would not be difficult to live with, he thought. All she required was comfort, and a few simple diversions, both of which he could easily provide. They would never argue. Anne did not raise her voice for any purpose. She was quiet and docile, which were ideal qualities in a wife. It would not be an inspiring marriage, but it would be a reasonable one.

  When at last Lady Catherine ran out of things to say, and all her ideas had been repeated at least twice, Colonel Fitzwilliam suggested a game of billiards to his cousin. Their aunt graciously excused them and began to talk of wedding clothes with her daughter. It was the moment of reckoning, Mr. Darcy thought as he went to the billiards room.

  “What on earth were you thinking?” the colonel cried the second he had shut the door behind them.

  “I was thinking that I need a wife, and Anne will do as well as anybody.”

  “But you have always said that you would never marry her.”

  “I changed my mind.”

  “I do not believe you. Tell me the truth, Darcy. Has our aunt somehow forced you to do this?”

  “No. It was all my own idea.”

  “Impossible!”

  “I assure you that it was. There was no compulsion. Not by Lady Catherine, at least.”

  “Aha! That is as good as an admission that somebody compelled you to do it. Not my father, I hope.”

  “No, nothing like that. What I meant is that I feel compelled to marry.”

  “Because you are so old?”

  “Well, it is time that I took a wife and set about the business of having a family.”

  “I was being sarcastic,” the colonel cried. “You are not even thirty yet. There is plenty of time for you to make a better choice. At least there was before you went and committed yourself. I cannot understand this sudden decision of yours.”

  “I am never going to be able to marry for love, so I thought that I might as well marry to oblige my family.”

  “That is a terrible basis upon which to choose a wife. A man should think only of pleasing himself. I do not understand this notion of yours either. How can you be so convinced that a love match is not possible?”

  “I have excellent reasons, but I do not want to talk about them.”

  “I could almost believe that you have of
fered your heart to somebody who rejected it. It is highly unlikely that anybody would reject you though, so I have to conclude that what you are trying to say is that you do not have any value for love.”

  It was impossible to avoid being honest. “Guess again,” Mr. Darcy said bitterly.

  “Somebody really did reject you?”

  “Yes. In the harshest possible manner. She left no doubt of her hatred for me.”

  “You proposed to somebody who dislikes you? How could you even manage to fall in love with such a person? How could you propose without receiving some sign of encouragement?”

  “I did not realise that she disliked me so much.”

  “So much? A man should not propose at all if there is any reason for him to think himself even a little disliked.”

  “I did not think that her dislike was greater than the advantages I was offering.”

  “You thought that any lady would accept you for your money and position alone?”

  “Most ladies would,” Mr. Darcy pointed out.

  “I suppose they would,” Colonel Fitzwilliam conceded, “yet you managed to propose to one of the few women in the world who are not swayed by wealth and consequence. That was unfortunate.”

  “Yes, it was.”

  “Who is this astounding person? I would very much like to meet her.”

  “You already have. She is Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”

  Colonel Fitzwilliam’s eyes opened wide and he looked very much taken aback. “I would never have guessed that,” he cried. “It was obvious to me from the moment of meeting her that the two of you did not get along very well. How on earth could you be in love with her? You have to explain this. From the beginning.”

  “The beginning of our acquaintance, or the beginning of falling in love with her?”

  “The very beginning.”

  “We met at an assembly.”

  “Ah, yes. The one at which you did not dance.”

  “Unfortunately, there is more to it,” Mr. Darcy confessed. “Bingley suggested that I should dance with her, but I thought it a dreadful idea.”

  “Was she aware of that?”

  “I believe so. Even worse, I may have been somewhat insulting.”