Page 53 of Mr. Darcy's Complex Courtship

“Ah…show them…um…” He coughed. “Bring them here, please.”

“Yes, sir.”

Mr. Miles’s hand betrayed a quiver as he set his brush on the ledge of his easel. After a pause, he sent me an absent-minded glance. “You may relax now, Miss Bennet.”

How odd. I had never observed him to be so flustered before, not even in company with his titled relations. I stood from the chair. “Are you well?”

“Yes, perfectly so, thank you.” Yet a slight tremor beset his lower lip.

Rather than press him further with the arrival of guests imminent, I retreated to the far table, poured a cup of tea, and took a sip; the brew had grown lukewarm.

At the sound of approaching footsteps, Mr. Miles tottered towards the doorway.

Slade entered with two handsome and well-dressed ladies. “Mrs. and Miss Hawkins.” I guessed the dark-haired Miss Hawkins to be near my age, while the sandy-haired Mrs. Hawkins appeared to be in her fifth decade.

In a halting, wooden gait, Mr. Miles went to the newcomers, stopping before the younger one. For a long moment, he goggled as though confronted with an apparition. “Did the butler misspeak, or are you truly still Miss Hawkins?”

Lines formed between her brows as she held her hand out to him. “I am unmarried. And I understand you are now Mr. Darcy. The name suits you.”

His hand lifted in a faltering motion to grip hers. “But I…I heard of your betrothment to your father’s friend Mr. Lovell.”

Miss Hawkins’s free hand rose to her throat. “You believed I had married him? That must mean…you could not have received my…letter.” Her last utterance, though whispered, fell within my hearing.

Every element of this fascinating scene consumed me. Upon my word, Mr. Miles and this lady must have been in a star-crossed romance—the impassioned looks between the pair left no room for doubt!

“No, I did not.” He pushed back a wayward lock of hair at his temple. “When did you write to me?”

“A month after we returned to Somersetshire—the same day I broke my engagement.” Miss Hawkins gasped. “My father must have intercepted the letter! I ought to have considered that possibility. He had pressured me to accept Mr. Lovell’s offer, and in a weak moment I agreed.”

“Did you…care for this man?”

“No, not at all. But I felt defeated and hopeless. For a short time, I lost my will to fight my father. But I soon realised I could not go through with the marriage. Papa never forgave me for jilting Mr. Lovell. In effect, he disowned me. Although he didnot go so far as to eject me from the house, life at home became unbearable. Thankfully, my dear aunt offered to take me in.” She smiled at the older lady. “I have resided with her in Canterbury ever since.” Miss Hawkins took the other lady’s arm. “Aunt Hawkins, I should like to introduce Mr. Miles Darcy.”

“It is an honour to meet you, Mrs. Hawkins.” Mr. Miles released Miss Hawkins’s hand and bowed.

Mrs. Hawkins curtsied and held him in a penetrating gaze. “Likewise, Mr. Darcy. My niece has told me much about you.” Her sight wandered to me, and she started.

A moment later, Miss Hawkins marked her acknowledgement of my presence with a sharp intake of breath, and her complexion blanched.

Mrs. Hawkins made an unobtrusive movement closer to her niece and placed a supportive hand upon Miss Hawkins’s back. “Mr. Darcy, will you not introduce your friend to Amelia and me?”

“Yes, of course.” Mr. Miles motioned me closer. “I should like you to meet Miss Elizabeth Bennet of…um…”—his fingers dug into his forehead—“Longbourn estate in Hertfordshire. She is…um…” His mouth tarried in an open position.

I advanced to a place opposite the ladies and curtsied. “It is a pleasure to meet you both. I am a friend of the Darcys. My sister has lately married a close friend of Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy’s. I am here today to sit for a painting. Miss Darcy has been delayed upstairs, but I expect her to join us soon.” By the end of my explanation, Miss Hawkins had recovered her poise. She bore a superficial resemblance to me since we shared the same hair colour and had similar frames. Otherwise, though, we differed; in particular, her long, narrow countenance, very dark, almost black, eyes, ivory complexion, and prominent Roman nose set her apart.

“Ah, I see.” Miss Hawkins shared a quick look with her aunt. “I am glad to meet you, Miss Bennet.”

“Indeed, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” said Mrs. Hawkins.

We all took seats. Since Mr. Miles had not yet recovered his usual composure, I took the liberty of ordering a fresh pot of tea and refreshments; when the food and drink arrived, I acted as host. At Mrs. Hawkins’s enquiry, I described Longbourn and Meryton. In turn, she provided a depiction of her small estate near Canterbury; she had inherited the property from her husband, who had perished from influenza five years earlier. Mr. Miles and Miss Hawkins—perhaps overwhelmed with emotion from their happy reunion—remained mute and exchanged longing gazes.

“I wonder, Miss Bennet…” Mrs. Hawkins shifted closer to me. “Would you be kind enough to indulge me in a whim? I fancy my niece and Mr. Darcy have matters of import to discuss. I suggest the two of us remove to the other end of the room so we may preserve decorum whilst providing them a modicum of privacy.”

Mr. Miles stirred to the edge of his chair. “That is a splendid and generous suggestion.” He turned to me. “As long as Miss Bennet does not mind.”

“Not at all.” I took my cup of tea and stood. Mrs. Hawkins followed me to a pair of chairs on the other side of the room.

“I appreciate your indulgence.” Mrs. Hawkins placed her tea on the table between us. “My niece and Mr. Wood formed an attachment two years ago, but my brother-in-law denied Mr. Wood’s suit. Even worse, the brute coerced my niece into accepting the hand of a man she did not love. I am glad Amelia ended the engagement, for she deserves better. She has been despondent for too long. I dearly hope it is not too late for her to find happiness.”

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