Page 43 of Her Affections and Wishes

The maid helped her carry her workbasket to the library, insisting that Elizabeth manage the stairs carefully. The coachman had carried her up yesterday, even though she had insisted she could walk on her own. Nothing was broken; she was only sore, and rather embarrassed by all the fuss.

She tried to read, but her mind went back to Darcy creeping into her room last night. Could she have convinced him to stay a little longer? Whatever fevered, curious imagining she had of him stretched out atop her paled to actually lying beside him and feeling his hands on her.

A few days with Darcy, seeing his improved behaviour, and seeing him for what he had always been, was sufficient for making her acquainted with her own heart. She made rapid progress, her parents might say, but she had acknowledged the whole truth of it in her letter to them. Her own declarations of love for Darcy and all of his own merits would make it impossible for her father to refuse. Only a few more days until she could bring Darcy to Longbourn to await their wedding, when they could finally show one another all the raptures and fondness they were capable of.

Elizabeth was on a sofa with her book and breakfast, lost in reveries, when Julia Metcalfe marched in. She hoped she gave every outward appearance of reading and not enjoying a daydream about Darcy satisfying a very base desire that had been building for days.

“What hold do you have over Mr Darcy?” she demanded.

It was only ten. She had never seen Julia awake this early. She was dressed as finely as always, but Elizabeth thought she looked a little wan. Perhaps that was from never seeing the sun so early in the day.

Julia stormed up to her, hands on her hips. “He is fixed on you,” she said, pointing, “but a man with his connexions and wealth would never marry so far beneath himself.”

Julia was right to doubt. Darcy had even fought against his own feelings and inclinations, but now he would say they were equals. He had a cherished opinion of her worth, and his affection for her had nothing to do with things like the rank, money, and beauty like Julia possessed.

“If you are certain Mr Darcy could never marry me, why are you concerned?”

She hesitated for a moment, and Elizabeth held back her smile at Julia’s frustration. “I am here to find a husband, Miss Bennet, and for some reason, that man is more concerned that you lost your balance than in anything I have to offer.”

“Perhaps you ought to consider some of the other men here for the races. There is no want of options⁠—”

“I have chosen Mr Darcy,” she insisted, as though she was ordering an item from a shopkeeper and expected it to be handed to her.

It was not a little that would have satisfied her, for Julia wanted to find respectable birth, distinguished talents, lofty fortune, and accomplished manners united in one young single man. And someone residing in the same house to make late-night encounters more likely. Darcy suited all her objectives, but he could never care a whit about Julia Metcalfe.

“If Mr Darcy is not as…willing as you are, why pursue him?”

“I need to marry, Miss Bennet,” she said, with a little stamp of her foot that must be a leftover habit from her younger days of getting what she wanted. “Mr Darcy has all I require, and it does not hurt that he is handsome. And my other option is Sir John,” she said with a sneer, “and he is a rogue.”

Should she tell her that Sir John had admitted to “Bennet” that he wanted a wealthier and less noble woman than Julia? Staying silent might shift Julia’s attention from Darcy to Sir John, but it would be unkind. It would be something Julia would do.

“You would not like the things Sir John said about us,” she said gently. “He would bed either of us if we were interested, but we are both too poor for him to marry. He wants to marry a little lower to someone with a grand fortune.”

Julia’s eyes blazed. She would use any means to secure a quick match with a rich man, yet she was indignant that Sir John intended to marry for money and did not want her at all? Julia was a woman who had to be first with any man she desired. “Then I need to try harder with Mr Darcy, so you had better not encourage him.”

Elizabeth huffed as a door opened and Lady Metcalfe strode in. “There you are. I am glad to see you up and about, my dear.”

It took Elizabeth a moment to realise she meant Julia for being up before noon and not Elizabeth after being tossed off a carriage.

“I am well enough to go to the ordinary with the others,” said Julia. “Mr Darcy will be there, and then they will all go to the races. If I join the meal, I have more of a chance to convince him he wants to marry a tall blonde with five thousand pounds and respectable connexions.”

The implication being Darcy could never want a woman of middling height with fifty pounds and uncles in trade. Elizabeth busied herself with putting a ribbon in her book and straightened her blanket, hiding a smile. Now would not be a good time to mention Darcy’s plans for the day.

“You had best make progress with him,” insisted her mother. “You did not cast your net wide as I suggested, so you had better be certain you can pull this one in.” Lady Metcalfe sat and sighed. “I wish you would consider other options, Julia. Mr Darcy hardly speaks. I do not think he can be pleased.”

“I do not need him to speak! I need his name.”

“He does not want abilities,” said Elizabeth, hating to hear him spoken of in such a way. “He can be a conversable companion—if he thinks it is worth his while.”

Julia turned to her mother. “Why could she not be confined to her room? You should never have brought her, Mamma!”

“My time and talents are considered Lady Catherine’s property,” she said wearily.

“You could do more to help me secure him, since you agreed to bring her. Do you even want to see me married to Mr Darcy?”

Lady Metcalfe returned this with a stony look of her own. “It is in my best interest to see you wed, young lady. If Mr Darcy takes you, I will fall on his neck with gratitude. And I will have to remove to Pemberley with you because I could never face Lady Catherine again.” After another glare at her daughter, who crossed her arms, she said to Elizabeth, “Rest, Miss Bennet, and we will see you this evening.”

She left, and when the door closed behind her, Julia said, “If I had my way, I would better leave you to find your own level! Whatever he might do with you in the dark, he would never marry a woman like you.”