A noteworthy courtship, p.1
A Noteworthy Courtship, page 1
Copyright © 2008 Laura Sanchez
Cover design © 2009 Laura Sanchez, incorporated cover image © Matthew Hartsock | Dreamstime.com
All rights reserved.
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Some characters herein are adapted from Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice and loosely inspired by the film You’ve Got Mail.
www.anoteworthycourtship.com
A Noteworthy Courtship
by
Laura Sanchez
Chapter 1
Fitzwilliam Darcy paced his bedchamber, finally coming to rest in a large armchair by the fire. His mind was in turmoil. For eight and twenty years he had survived on the foundation of duty and honor under society’s dictates. Each hardship cast his way had been conquered by maintaining a standard set by duty to his family. The death of his mother followed by the death of his father, running the family estate and supporting his young sister – he had held his head high through them all. He was renowned for his superior estate management and greatly respected for the fair and honest treatment of his tenants. He was fully prepared to seek a bride of wealth and connection, a woman who would further his own position in society and that of his young sister. All of these things ruled his existence, gave him purpose and direction – until he met her. Elizabeth.
She had driven him to distraction. With every moment, he thought of her sharp wit and playful manner. He saw her eyes sparkling with merriment, questioning the very rules of society with which he had been ingrained since infancy. She challenged him and teased him without pause or regard for his position in society. Images of her from hours earlier as they danced at the Netherfield ball replayed over and over in his mind. Oh, how he loved to hear her laugh, even if he was merely hearing it from across the room. His eyes had never left her throughout the evening, so entranced was he by her lively disposition – so opposite from his own. Even her confrontation about Wickham during their dance enticed him. In the moment, she had sparked his ire; yet now he was haunted by the fire in her eyes, revealing a passionate nature never displayed by women of his circle. In short, she was the polar opposite of the society women clamoring to be the next Mistress of Pemberley.
“How is this possible?” he muttered to himself, “Of all the circumstances I have endured, is this…is she to distract me? It cannot be!”
He needed advice. Confident he may be with estate matters, affairs of the heart were different. He longed for his father’s advice, knowing that with his support, he would have the strength to either forget her or face society’s approbation with his father by his side. But which path would his father advise? His parent’s marriage did not seem to be one of convenience, but his mother’s family was of no comparison to the Bennets. He needed someone to help him clear his mind, to justify the conflict he felt. At this point he simply needed assurance he hadn’t gone mad! Bingley’s advice, though easily accessible, would be highly predictable. How could Bingley object to his friend’s pursuit when he was also clearly besotted by a Bennet? His cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam’s advice was equally objectionable, unless of course he wished to be ridiculed until the end of his days because “staid and fastidious Darcy” had gone completely soft over a woman. Being a reserved man with a small circle of friends, and an even smaller circle he could rely upon, he decided to fall into old habits and rely upon himself. Darcy rose from his chair and paced along the foot of his bed.
“Get a hold of yourself man!” he chastised himself, “You are a Darcy! At this rate you are no better than Beaumont!”
Andrew Beaumont, son of the Earl of Norfolk, had been a great friend to Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley during their Cambridge years. He had impressed Mr. Darcy with his logic until he did the completely illogical. After spending the summer months after Cambridge in Essex, he announced his engagement to Miss Evelyn Howard, an acquaintance of his younger sister. Though the Howard family had some favorable connections, most were through Miss Howard’s friendship with Miss Beaumont. The Howards had recently lost what little fortune they had and Miss Howard would have been forced to seek employment. It was rumored amongst the ton that she had joined the Beaumont siblings in Essex as Miss Beaumont’s companion. The Earl had refused his consent and adamantly demanded that his son give up the connection. Upon Andrew’s persistence with the match, the Earl disinherited him in favor of his younger brother. Fortunately, Andrew had already inherited a small estate from his maternal grandfather, allowing the new Mr. and Mrs. Beaumont to live comfortably. Mr. Darcy, along with the rest of London society, had dropped the acquaintance with little remorse.
Mr. Darcy resolved to uphold the standards he had been taught since infancy. His cousin, the eldest son of Lord Matlock, had done his duty by marrying the well dowried daughter of a Duke, and he would do the same. There was no hurry for him to wed, but he must avoid the senselessness of making a poor match while on holiday in a remote country town. Mr. Darcy devised a course of action to avoid weakening his determination. The first and most necessary step would be to avoid meeting with Miss Elizabeth. Second would be to limit his interaction with Miss Bingley as far as civility would allow. A reminder of what type of wife he could expect to find amongst the ton would hardly be helpful. Third, he would attempt to keep himself as busy as possible. If delving head-first into estate business had proven ample distraction to overcome the grief of losing his father, it should in turn distract him from thinking of Elizabeth.
Finally satisfied with his resolve, he retired for the night, thinking of his father and all of the Darcys and Fitzwilliams that had gone before him. As he slept, however, his mind was no longer able to suppress the visions of the woman he truly desired – Elizabeth.
_____
The next morning dawned clear and bright. As Mr. Darcy awoke, he banished any lingering memories of the night’s alluring dreams and strode to his writing desk. He seated himself and dipped a fresh quill into the inkwell. Lifting his pen, he squared his shoulders and committed a few short words to paper, the words he had repeated to himself as he drifted off to sleep the night before. His determination had not diminished overnight and the finality of these words on paper would reflect the finality of his decision. He would not allow infatuation to overcome him, and he would not dare to describe this infatuation as love.
Mr. Darcy rang for his valet and prepared for the day ahead. Glancing towards his desk, he walked over and placed the note into his coat pocket. As one component of his plan was to keep himself occupied, he decided to lengthen his morning ride. He would head into town and peruse the local bookshop. Surely their selection would be inferior to that of any bookseller in London or his own collection in town or at Pemberley, however Netherfield’s library shelves were sparsely filled and surely anything available in Meryton would be an improvement. As an added incentive, he may even chance upon some of the younger Bennet sisters in town. What better way to strengthen his resolve than to encounter the extraordinary lack of propriety displayed by her squealing and flirtatious sisters?
At Longbourn, Miss Elizabeth rose later than was her usual custom. She and Jane had stayed up after arriving home from the ball discussing Mr. Bingley. Elizabeth was thrilled to see her sister feeling all the happiness she rightly deserved. If only Mr. Bingley would propose, perhaps Mrs. Bennet would see some semblance of reason and give up her constant attempts to match Elizabeth with Mr. Collins. She knew she could hardly accept such a man as her husband, but her mother’s encouragement of her suitor continued unabated.
Miss Elizabeth threw a wistful glance out the window, sorry to have missed the chance to walk out and enjoy the serenity of such a beautiful day before breakfast. As she descended the stairs, she became increasingly aware of her mother’s voice, and then alarmed as she overheard the words being spoken to Mr. Collins. “She will be honored sir, to be the next mistress of Longbourn! Of course you and Elizabeth shall take care of us after the two of you inherit!”
As unfortunate as it was to be the intended recipient of Mr. Collins’ imminent proposal, she was lucky enough to escape the house through the still room before her presence was known. As she darted through the back gardens, she could hear a shrill voice calling from her bedroom. “Lizzy! Lizzy?! Where is that girl? Jane, Jane! You assured me Lizzy was here preparing herself, and of course she should prepare with Mr. Collins awaiting her! Oh, if she could have but the slightest compassion for my nerves! Oh, Hill, Hill!” Elizabeth could not help feeling remorseful at leaving the rest of the household to bear the brunt of her mother’s frustrations; however, staying home to reject a most unwanted proposal from Mr. Collins would only increase her mother’s vexation.
Mr. Darcy spent the early morning exploring the countryside before turning his horse towards Meryton. After leaving his mount to be cooled down and watered, he headed through the village square, thankful that few of the gentry were in town at this hour, given the late closing of the ball the night before. Upon reaching the bookshop, he leisurely searched for familiar titles he might enjoy during the remainder of his stay in Hertfordshire. Finding a section of the shop containing used copies and many first editions, he decided to peruse these books more thoroughly. He was impressed to find A Political Romance and pulled the book from its shelf for closer inspection. He had read Sterne at Cambridge, but not since, as satire was not one of his favorite genres. He quickly thumbed through the first section, thinking that Miss Elizabeth Bennet would be able to appreciate Sterne’s mocker
“Be strong, man,” Mr. Darcy muttered under his breath. Embarrassed that someone may have overheard him, he glanced over his shoulder to see the shopkeeper approaching him. Snapping the book closed, he turned around to receive his greeting.
“Mr. Awdry at your service sir, may I be of assistance?”
“Thank you, sir. I was just browsing after making my selections here,” answered Mr. Darcy, gesturing to the books he had selected.
“Excellent choices, sir. If there is nothing else you need, would you allow me to package those for you?”
After taking the three titles handed to him, Mr. Awdry hesitated. “And the Sterne, sir?”
“Not today, thank you,” answered Mr. Darcy as he returned A Political Romance to its place on the shelf. Reaching for his money clip as he walked to the counter, he looked up to observe a breathtaking yet horrifying sight.
Elizabeth Bennet had entered the village square and was meandering past shop windows across the street. She turned into the bakery just as Mr. Awdry handed Mr. Darcy a brown parcel containing his purchases. Thankful for the opportunity to escape without greeting Miss Bennet, Mr. Darcy left the bookshop and headed directly to the stables. Thanking the stable boy and handing him a sixpence, he mounted his horse and urged the stallion into a quick trot.
Just as Netherfield Park came into sight, he straightened in his saddle as a startling thought came to mind.
“Blast!”
Placing his hand over the empty pocket of his jacket, he remembered the note so carelessly left behind. “I really have gone distracted,” he grumbled as he turned his horse and galloped back towards Meryton.
Miss Elizabeth left the bakery in good spirits, allowing the pleasant taste of Mr. Harland’s sweet rolls to ease the morning’s troubles from her mind. She decided to visit Mr. Awdry’s shop and inquire as to whether he had received any new merchandise from town. Hearing Mr. Awdry reply to the negative, but that he expected a small shipment the next day, she wandered through his collection of used books. Mr. Bennet’s birthday was nearly three months away, but Elizabeth enjoyed seeking out unusual titles for her father. Noticing a book that was slightly askew, she reached to push it into place when the title caught her eye. She smiled softly as she pulled Sterne’s book from the shelf. She recalled her father’s pride in owning one of very few original copies of the work. Her grandfather had acquired the copy before the book was edited by the publisher to half its original length. Gently leafing through the yellowing pages, she was surprised to find a small fresh sheet folded and tucked within. Never one to deprive her curiosity of its satisfaction, she discreetly removed the sheet and unfolded it. In admirably neat and distinctly masculine handwriting, she read the following:
November 27, 18__
Be warned heart, my mind shall conquer you!
Miss Elizabeth stifled a scoff at the absurdity of the words before her. She did not doubt that many people made decisions that followed their minds and not their hearts; however, if a man needed a written note to convince himself not to follow his heart, surely he was fighting a losing battle! Glancing over her shoulder and seeing no one to observe her actions, she pocketed the note. While she knew not the author of the pilfered note, being dated – quite fastidiously she might add, who would date a note to themselves? – as written today, there was a fair chance he may return for it. Sharing her father’s amusement in exploiting the follies of others, she could not resist the temptation to replace the note as soon as possible with a response of her own. She returned the old book to its shelf and bid Mr. Awdry good day, promising to return on the morrow in case the shipment from London had arrived.
As she made her way to the door, she narrowly avoided colliding with a tall figure practically running into the shop.
“Mr. Darcy,” she curtsied, vainly attempting to restrain her smile at his decidedly flustered countenance.
“I…..” he faltered slightly. Then with a curt bow, he replied evenly, “Miss Bennet….I beg your pardon, I was not attending.”
“Do not trouble yourself sir, I was able to perceive your stampeding approach and prevented the inevitable. I hope there is no unfortunate matter causing your haste.”
“Nothing of import, excuse me.” With that, Mr. Darcy turned on his heel and continued into the shop.
Not surprised in the least at such a lack of civility from Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth merely shrugged and continued on her way. She headed home, wondering who had written the note now hidden in her pocket. Perhaps young Mr. Goulding or one of the Lucas boys would be the recipient of her teasing. After all, it could not possibly be Mr. Bingley, as he seemed perfectly happy to allow his heart to lead him to Jane. As for Mr. Darcy, that gentleman would first need to be in possession of a heart in order to lose his control over it.
Relieved to have his encounter with Miss Elizabeth at an end, Mr. Darcy turned his attention to the same shelf he had perused only an hour earlier. Taking Sterne’s title, he quickly opened it to remove the note he had so carelessly misplaced. Looking at two unaltered pages of text where his note should have been, he furrowed his brow and returned to the front page of the book to search more carefully. A less-than-manly gasp was heard from the back corner of the Meryton bookshop as Mr. Darcy reached the last page of the book. The note was gone.
Leaving the shop nearly as quickly as he had entered it, Mr. Darcy mounted his horse and headed back towards Netherfield Park. If he had hoped to be calmed by the monotony of time spent with Miss Bingley and the Hursts, he was sorely mistaken.
Chapter 2
Though the acclamation was typically used to describe another house in the neighborhood, on the twenty-seventh of November, Netherfield Park was in uproar. After the astonishing behavior she had witnessed at the previous night’s ball, Miss Bingley was determined to quit Hertfordshire as soon as may be. Mr. Bingley had positively mooned over Miss Jane Bennet the entire evening while the remainder of the Bennet family made a complete spectacle of themselves. She had planned to enlist Mr. Darcy’s aid in confronting her brother during breakfast, but that gentleman had yet to return from his morning ride.
In the breakfast room with Miss Bingley and the Hursts, Mr. Bingley had announced that he would postpone his trip to London in favor of paying a call at Longbourn. Try as she may, Miss Bingley was unable to dissuade him. She had bemoaned the unsuitability of mixing with the inferior local gentry each day since their arrival, and to her brother, the rant sounded no different than it had each day previous. Mrs. Hurst did point out the impropriety of calling so shortly after the ball, but her brother simply responded that propriety be hanged – he wanted to see Miss Bennet, and he could not imagine the Bennets would object to his company. Mr. Bingley left the breakfast room and headed for the stables, wishing he had been wise enough to leave the house before breakfast as Darcy had.
Naturally this turn of events threw Miss Bingley into a vengeful fit of nerves. Her bitter monologue was immediately audible as Mr. Darcy entered the house before luncheon. Seeing that she was addressing the Hursts as they all moved away from him, he lightened his steps, hoping to reach the staircase unnoticed.
Unfortunately it was at this moment that Mr. Hurst turned around and bellowed, “Ah, Darcy, there you are. My wife and sister have been lamenting your absence. Do join us for luncheon!”
Having no means of politely excusing himself, Mr. Darcy fell into step behind the group, pondering how convenient it was that Mr. Hurst chose this particular day to be sober and sociable.
_____
“Surely you see the danger in this, Mr. Darcy?” implored Miss Bingley from across the dining table. “To be paying call the morning immediately following the ball. Such a thing would never be attempted in town. The country manners here in Hertfordshire are such a poor influence on Charles!”
“I doubt the likelihood that anyone will begrudge your brother’s attentions, though it may be a slight breach of propriety,” Mr. Darcy replied evenly, reaching for his glass.
