Page 53 of Her Affections and Wishes

“Miss Bennet’s good name is safe amongst her friends here.” Lady Metcalfe’s voice rose in pitch. “Marrying her is not⁠—”

“And I am taking Miss Bennet home in the morning.”

“You are?” Elizabeth said in a monotone. “I thought we were leaving on Monday.”

She was displeased with him. Regardless of the vase or the carriage, Julia was behind their being tricked and he wanted Elizabeth away from any further schemes or danger.

“Have you spoken to her parents?” asked Mrs Tessier. “I cannot let you leave together unless they approve.”

“We have both written to her father, and they expect us. I daresay a letter came from him today.”

The room was silent until Henry crossed the room with an outstretched hand. “Congratulations.” Darcy shook it gladly, and then he bowed to Elizabeth with wishes for her future happiness.

“What an exciting day,” cried Sir John, clapping his hands once. “Travers won it all on Manuella on the Oaks, and Darcy is getting married. Gentlemen, shall we play billiards until dinner?” asked Sir John. “Darcy, if your betrothed can spare you, join us.”

He turned to Elizabeth, about to decline and say they needed to talk, but she said, “By all means, play. Apparently, I must pack. Mrs Tessier, please forgive me for declining whatever entertainments you have arranged for us tonight. And for parting from your hospitality so suddenly.”

“Of course, my dear,” said their hostess. “I wish you every happiness.”

From the tight smile Elizabeth gave him as she left, she might be happy to marry him, but she was not happy with him at this moment.

Chapter Eleven

Someone’s high-handed manner sent her to Woodcote, and now someone else’s high-handed manner was removing her from it. Though she was indisputably happier having come here, for it united her with Darcy, there was nothing about this escapade that pleased her. Darcy had announced their engagement, announced they were leaving in the morning, and she had not even read the letter from her father.

There was no point in reading it now, for at any moment her peace would be destroyed. Besides, Darcy had decreed she would leave with him in the morning regardless of her inclination or her father’s. She may little like it, but she had best start packing before she was interrupted. She had only lifted her trunk lid when her door was thrown open without so much as a knock.

“You absolute whore,” cried Julia, slamming the door behind her. She looked hot and disconcerted, her face reddened with anger.

Elizabeth bit back an epithet of her own to throw at Julia. “That is a vile thing to say to a fellow woman.”

“What sort of vulgar arts did you perform to get Mr Darcy to propose to you?”

“Is that not what you intended to do?” she asked mildly, turning her back to resume her packing.

“I would have gained his attentions if I had the chance! And I would have performed them better than you.”

“You have formed very high and presumptuous ideas of your own powers over Mr Darcy,” said Elizabeth with a disdainful smile, “but my knowledge and experience prove more useful than your theories.”

“And now he flies to you, worships you, will marry you?” Julia sneered. “When the gratification of whatever you did to him has worn off, he will renege. He will remember what he owes to his rank, and throw you off. And I will be there waiting, and with better than whatever you offered him behind that door.”

As irritated as she was with Darcy’s arrogance in announcing their engagement after she had asked him not to, she was confident in his affections. “I promise you, us being behind that door had nothing at all to do with Darcy wanting to marry me.”

“Of course you would say that. Only by a clandestine manner could you secure a man like him.”

“He told me that was what you attempted,” she said, spinning round. “You offered to give him anything he wanted for an evening. But you failed to kindle any flame in his heart.”

“You stupid whore!” Julia cried. “You cannot think he is over head and ears in love with you because you unbuttoned his⁠—”

“All your advantages of fortune and birth are nothing,” she interrupted, going back to her packing. “Whatever Darcy thinks of me, he will not marry you. Your existence is nothing to him. And you do not even have any affection for him. You don’t want to listen to him, to learn of him, to love him. He is just a means to an end for you.”

Julia screeched, and Elizabeth lifted her eyes. Not even Lydia or Kitty would be so ill-tempered in the face of disappointment.

“I could still have him,” she cried. “He is by no means irreparably bound to you until you leave the church door.”

Elizabeth spun round to fire back, but her retort fell from her lips. One could not tell by looking if Julia was pregnant, for she was a tall and full-figured woman. The possibility of it pulled on her sympathy. Whoever the father was would bear no blame, but Julia’s life would be over if she had a child but no husband.

“Miss Metcalfe, why is it urgent you marry Mr Darcy, and marry him now? It cannot be because you have pretty, younger sisters about to come out.”