He nodded his thanks, and Fitzwilliam clapped him on the back, then removed downstairs. Darcy pulled on his clothes and made his way out to the waiting carriage, thinking that the joke was on the men who had killed his uncle. Had they waited six hours more, they would have been paid in full. But then, had Theophilus Darcy not been ruled by his pride and waited so long to ask for help, he would not be dead.
Darcy mumbled a brief prayer for the soul of Theophilus Darcy, and before he said amen, he asked something for himself. He prayed for the courage to live an honest life, to not to succumb to pain and pride as had his great-uncle Theophilus. That should he one day, God forbid, lose Elizabeth before he himself was called home, he would be brave enough to live on as she would wish, and as Horatio Darcy had done—with hope and honour and love.
Elizabeth smiled brightly at Mr. Darcy as he handed her out of the carriage at Longbourn. Her intended had been badly affected by how his great-uncle Theophilus had met his end, but he struggled to maintain his good cheer. She had insisted that he and Mr. Fitzwilliam join them in Hertfordshire and return to London in ten days’ time, when Lady Matlock and Miss Darcy would join the earl in town. She did not want him to have too much time to brood.
Their welcome inside was cheerful and warm. Papa wished them all well and disappeared to his book room. Mr. Bingley was visiting Jane, Mrs. Quimby perched on her chair in the corner, smiling as she worked on her embroidery. Mary, Kitty, and Lydia were sitting around a table, several pages of garden plans spread out before them. They all stood to greet the travellers.
“Lizzy,” Mary said, “I would have written, but there seemed no point as you were to return today.”
“Written about what, Mary?” Elizabeth inquired, anxious that there might be yet more problems to solve or dangers to avoid.
“That,” Mary whispered, nodding behind Elizabeth.
Charlotte stood just outside the room, staring in at Mr. Fitzwilliam.
“Oh, no,” Elizabeth whispered back. “Mr. Collins made an offer?”
Mary nodded. “He drove up from Kent to ask. Charlotte believes he first visited Lady Catherine and sought her approval before he changed his intentions from Jane or you to her. She thanked him but declined. He could not accept it and declared that he would ask again. Which he did.”
Elizabeth could well imagine. “Lady Lucas must have been terribly disappointed. Is Mr. Collins still at Lucas Lodge?”
Her sister shook her head. “He left the following day for Kent, vowing he would never again set foot in this terrible place until he inherited. Charlotte’s mother has been haranguing her ever since. Eventually she begged her father to send her here, where, of course, we received her. Thank you for mentioning it might be necessary.”
Poor Charlotte. Would nothing work out for her as it should? Elizabeth stepped away from Mary to comfort her friend, but found her path blocked by Mr. Darcy.
“Allow my cousin to do the honours, Miss Elizabeth,” he told her, the smooth deep tones of his voice like silk against her skin.
Elizabeth peeked around him to see Mr. Fitzwilliam approaching Charlotte. “Does he mean to . . .” She squelched a squeal when Mr. Fitzwilliam led her friend from the room.
“The townhouse will be rather crowded this season, I expect,” Mr. Darcy told her teasingly. “Will you mind having your friend so close?”
“La, Lizzy,” Lydia called from where she was spying on Charlotte and Mr. Fitzwilliam from the window. “Do you think Lady Lucas will pretend she knew about Mr. Fitzwilliam all along?”
“There is no point to her remaining angry now,” Kitty added.
“I do not know,” Elizabeth replied, and then leaned into Mr. Darcy’s ear. “I do not care. How wonderful! Did you know?”
“Highly suspected.”
“Why did you not tell me?”
He tipped his head down to her. “It was not my story to tell. He was concerned that he had left it too late. I presume he did not wish for anyone to know he had been refused, should that have been the outcome of the interview.”
“Charlotte admires your cousin. I do not think she will deny him.”
“That is good news for him.”
The couple in question reappeared a quarter of an hour later, all smiles and bashful glances. Elizabeth embraced her friend. “Congratulations, my dear friend,” she said. “I am so happy for you.”
Charlotte did not pretend that Elizabeth was mistaken in her assumption. “One privilege of being twenty-seven years of age,” she said happily, “is that I need not ask for permission. Tomorrow will be soon enough to inform my parents of our engagement.”
“To the son of an earl,” Elizabeth responded. “Your mother will not know what to do with herself.”
“She can spend one more night lamenting what she believes I have lost,” Charlotte said. “I am sorry to say it of any of my family, but she deserves to feel the foolishness of her behaviour. She was certain I would accept Mr. Collins despite my direct statement that I would not, and she has never stopped attempting to persuade me to change my mind.”
“You are now rewarded for your integrity,” Elizabeth said. “Well done, Charlotte.”
“Had I not had your invitation to retreat here to Longbourn, I might not have been so certain in my response.”