The Poisoned Proposal Read online

  The Poisoned Proposal

  Dark Darcy series ~ Book 3

  A Pride and Prejudice Variation

  PENELOPE SWAN

  Copyright © 2015 H.Y. Hanna

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-13: 97809942942-1-4

  www.penelopeswan.com

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  Dedication

  For my lovely mother-in-law who has made me feel so welcome in the family, and been amazing in encouraging and supporting me.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  This book follows British English spelling, grammar and word usage.

  BOOKS IN THIS SERIES:

  The Netherfield Affair (Book 1)

  Intrigue at the Ball (Book 2)

  The Poisoned Proposal (Book 3)

  Secrets at Pemberley (Book 4)

  OTHER BOOKS BY PENELOPE SWAN:

  Darcy’s Wager

  Darcy Revealed

  CONTENTS:

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Secrets at Pemberley (Book 4) - read an excerpt

  OTHER BOOKS BY THIS AUTHOR:

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Acknowledgements

  CHAPTER ONE

  The carriage lurched and swayed as it bumped over a rut in the road. Elizabeth Bennet sighed and shifted in her seat, trying to stretch her cramped legs. The journey from Hertfordshire to Kent had been more arduous than she had anticipated. The recent rains had made the roads muddy and treacherous, and the grey skies had done little to brighten the journey. If it were not for the great affection she held for her friend, Charlotte, whose new home she was visiting, she would have sought any excuse to avoid this trip.

  Particularly as she had no wish to spend any more time in the company of Charlotte’s new husband, Mr Collins. Elizabeth grimaced to herself. Mr Collins was her cousin and she should have endeavoured to harbour more charitable feelings towards him, but his pompous manner and ridiculous self-conceit were singularly unappealing. Even one such as her—who normally derived great amusement from observing the folly of others—found it difficult to be entertained in his company. Once again, Elizabeth wondered how Charlotte—so sensible and intelligent herself—could marry such a silly man! Oh, to be sure, it was a prudent match. Mr Collins’s position as the rector at Hunsford Parsonage assured a comfortable income for life and, as his wife, Charlotte would enjoy security and respectability.

  But was that really enough? Elizabeth wondered despairingly. What about respect, admiration, and attraction for your partner in life? What about love? She sighed as she looked out of the window at the gloomy landscape again. Perhaps she was simply succumbing to foolish notions of romance. Charlotte had seemed satisfied with her choice, pointing out that life with Mr Collins was a practical and more pleasing alternative than life as a poor spinster. Perhaps her friend was right… and yet… Elizabeth felt that she could never contemplate sacrificing her better feelings for material gain. She would rather die an old maid than marry someone she could neither love nor respect.

  “Is it much farther, Papa?”

  Elizabeth glanced up at the sound of Maria Lucas’s voice. Charlotte’s younger sister was sitting next to her in the carriage and facing them was Sir William Lucas. A simple, empty-headed, but kindly man, he mopped his brow now with a large handkerchief and shifted in his seat, his paunch straining against the buttons of his waistcoat.

  “No, Maria, I believe not. In fact…” He leaned over and looked out of the carriage window. “I believe those woods on our right belong to Rosings Park.”

  “Rosings Park! Do you mean all of this is Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s estate?” asked Maria in awe, leaning forwards to peer at the expanse of dark forest that lined the side of the road. “Why, I don’t believe I have ever seen a property so vast!”

  “Aye, your sister is fortunate to have made a clever alliance with a man under the patronage of one such as Lady Catherine de Bourgh,” said Sir William with smug satisfaction. He coloured slightly as his gaze caught Elizabeth’s and he remembered that the Bennet family had been expecting Mr Collins to offer for her. “Er… that is to say…”

  Elizabeth smiled at him. “Indeed, it is a most advantageous situation for Charlotte and I am very happy for her,” she said. She meant every word. She did not begrudge her friend for stealing the match by attracting Mr Collins’s attentions and securing his proposal of marriage—indeed, she had welcomed it. Their unexpected courtship had saved her from the unpleasant prospect of having to refuse her cousin and incur her mother’s displeasure. Mrs Bennet would never have been able to sympathise with Elizabeth’s revulsion for a loveless marriage and it would have caused a great deal of unpleasantness within the family.

  The carriage followed a turn in the road and the grey tiled roof of Hunsford parsonage came into view. It was a modest country house, built along severe lines, with dark green climbing ivy across the front façade which did little to relieve the austerity of the stone walls. As the carriage pulled up in front of the house, Elizabeth saw two figures come out of the front door and hurry towards them across the gravel driveway. It was Mr Collins, dressed in his habitual clergyman’s black, and Charlotte, looking very matronly in a white lace mob cap and sprigged muslin gown.

  “Sir William! Cousin Elizabeth! Miss Maria!” gushed Mr Collins as they alighted from the carriage. “It is my very great pleasure to welcome you to my humble abode!”

  They were escorted with great pomp and ceremony into the house and directed by Mr Collins to admire every cornice and balustrade, every hook and shelf displayed within its interior.

  “Observe this door, Cousin Elizabeth,” said Mr Collins, indicating the entry to his study. “What do you say?”

  “Er…” Elizabeth stared at the plain wooden door before her, uncertain how to respond.

  “Are the hinges not mounted in the most superlative manner? Lady Catherine herself supervised the fittings and ensured that the door would swing neither too slow nor too fast.”

  “Uh… indeed? How comforting it must be to have a perfectly swinging door,” said Elizabeth, hiding a smile.

  Mr Collins beamed. “Yes, you cannot believe the depths of Lady Catherine’s generosity. Nothing is beneath her condescension. She has cast her eye over every corner of this house and directed us in the best manner to conduct every activity. Why, she has even guided me in the clipping of my fingernails!” He held up five stumpy fingers for admiration.

  Elizabeth felt Charlotte flush and cringe slightly beside her, but her friend made no comment. Instead, she led the way upstairs to show the guests to their bedchambers. Elizabeth’s room was small but cosy, with a window that gave out onto a view of the church graveyard at the back of the parsonage.

  “I hope you do not mind looking out onto the graveyard,” said Charlotte.

  “No, of course not,” said Elizabeth quickly. “You know I have little patience with superstitious beliefs and ghostly tales, and the proximity to the dead does not bother me.”

  Nevertheless—as she walked over to look out of the window—Eliza
beth had to admit that the sight of all those grave markers, stark and desolate, presented a grim prospect. A black crow sat on one tombstone and cawed harshly, then flapped its wings and flew into the copse of woods beyond the church. Elizabeth saw her friend eyeing her anxiously and hastily smiled. “I am sure the view would look very different in the sunshine.”

  “This is nothing, of course, compared to the views from the windows of Rosings Park,” Mr Collins declared, coming to join Elizabeth at the window. “The vistas from Lady Catherine’s residence—of which there are several for the manor has over sixty windows—are the most remarkable you will ever see; indeed I wager they are the finest in the whole of England!” He leaned slightly to the right and pointed to the side of the window. “Behold, Cousin Elizabeth, you are also provided with a glimpse of the lane. You may be able to see Lady Catherine or her daughter, Miss Anne de Bourgh, should they drive by. My study downstairs affords me a perfect view of the road and thus I am able to demean myself to Lady Catherine each time she passes in her carriage, which I am gratified to say occurs almost daily. If you are very fortunate, you may yet experience her passing later today!”

  Elizabeth wondered how to suitably express her enthusiasm for this great honour, but was thankfully spared as Mr Collins turned his attention to the bed in the centre of the room.

  “Lady Catherine herself has seen to the furnishings of this room,” said Mr Collins proudly. “When she learnt that we were to have visitors, nothing would satisfy her but to come and oversee the preparation of the guestrooms herself.”

  Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. “She is a most attentive neighbour.”

  “Indeed, she is!” Mr Collins agreed. “Her ladyship advised us on everything from the length of the candlesticks to the placement of your pillows.”

  “I shall sleep much more soundly knowing that Lady Catherine has given her personal attention to the placement of my pillows,” said Elizabeth dryly.

  She saw Charlotte suppress a smile, but the irony was lost on Mr Collins who turned eagerly away to show Sir William and Maria to their rooms. Elizabeth took the opportunity to follow Charlotte downstairs to the rear drawing room, which had been decorated as a comfortable parlour for her personal use. Mr Collins’s sonorous voice faded into the background and Elizabeth drew a breath of relief as they entered the peace and quiet of the pretty drawing room. She noticed, however, that there were faint lines of strain around Charlotte’s eyes and mouth.

  “Charlotte?” Elizabeth looked at her friend in concern. “Is aught the matter?” She glanced at the open door behind them, through which she could still hear her cousin’s voice drifting down from upstairs, then lowered her own voice and said, “Are you regretting your decision to marry Mr Collins?”

  Charlotte gave a tired smile. “No, no, Eliza, nothing like that, I assure you. I own, it is not perhaps the easiest of unions, but I find myself quite content. And the community here at Hunsford is a pleasant one—they have mostly welcomed me very hospitably.”

  “Mostly?” Elizabeth said.

  Charlotte gave another weary smile. “There are a few at Rosings who perhaps resent my coming… but do not worry, all is well,” she said, seeing Elizabeth’s look. “Such social slights do not trouble me. No, it is something else…”

  Elizabeth waited curiously as Charlotte hesitated and then said in an uneasy voice:

  “There was an unpleasant incident at Rosings Park recently. I found it most disturbing. Lady Catherine was taken ill quite suddenly and it would appear that it was no normal sickness—indeed, it is suspected that she may have been poisoned.”

  “Poisoned?” exclaimed Elizabeth. “Is it certain?”

  Charlotte sighed and shook her head. “No, it is not certain, though there are strong suspicions. But the possibility has unleashed great unease within the community and cast a sinister pall over Rosings Park and even Hunsford village. Indeed, I confess I find the thought of such sly attacks far more sinister than outright attempts at murder.”

  “When did the poisoning occur? Was Lady Catherine greatly affected?”

  “It was the night before last. And no, thankfully, Lady Catherine appears to be of a strong constitution. She suffered some dizziness, muscle spasms, and nausea, but made a full recovery the next day.”

  “It seems incredible,” said Elizabeth, shaking her head. “Poison is the realm of medieval novels and gothic legends. It has no place in such surroundings as Lady Catherine’s respectable circle.” She gave her friend a mischievous smile. “Perhaps there are those who resent her advice on how to clip their toenails.”

  “’Tis no laughing matter, Eliza,” said Charlotte severely.

  Elizabeth sobered. “You are right, Charlotte; I apologise. Poison is certainly no trifling affair. But I persist—are there those who may wish Lady Catherine harm? Perhaps some do not relish her interference in their lives as readily as Mr Collins.”

  “She is an active magistrate in this parish,” admitted Charlotte. “And takes great pleasure in entering the homes in the village to settle disputes and quarrels, scolding her tenants into silence, if not harmony. She also spends a large portion of her time supervising the local families, looking over the men’s work and advising them to do it differently, whilst giving her opinion on every aspect of the women’s household management.”

  “She sounds like a veritable busybody,” said Elizabeth, wrinkling her nose. “And too full of her own self-importance.”

  “Eliza!” said Charlotte, slightly shocked. “Do not let Mr Collins hear you speak thus!”

  Elizabeth laughed. “Do not fear, Charlotte. I shall preserve my peace when Mr Collins is about. But I confess, I am filled with lively curiosity now regarding your grand patroness and look forward to meeting her in person.”

  “You will have that pleasure soon,” said Charlotte. “We have already been sent an invitation, which includes you and my father and sister, for dinner at Rosings Park tomorrow evening. Lady Catherine is delighted to have two of her nephews visiting and is keen to preside over a dinner party. She takes great pride in her younger relatives, particularly Mr Darcy—”

  “Mr Darcy!” said Elizabeth. Her heart began to beat faster for some unaccountable reason. An image of the tall, handsome gentleman came to her mind. “Is he here?”

  “Yes, he arrived yesterday,” said Charlotte, looking at Elizabeth curiously. “Lady Catherine has talked of his coming with the greatest satisfaction and seems convinced that his visit indicates a growing affection for her daughter, Miss Anne. You know, she and Mr Darcy were intended for each other from the cradle.”

  “Are they betrothed?” asked Elizabeth, with a slight lurch of her heart. She knew not why she should care so much. After all, Mr Darcy’s personal affairs were none of her concern and she could certainly have no part in them. There had been a few times in the past when she had wondered about his feelings for her… but no, those were simply fanciful imaginings, Elizabeth chided herself.

  “It is not an official betrothal,” said Charlotte. “Merely the wishes of their mothers, who were affectionate sisters. But it is certainly Lady Catherine’s expectation that Mr Darcy should be destined for his cousin and you know she is not a lady to be gainsaid.”

  Elizabeth did not reply, but she wondered at Mr Darcy’s compliance in the matter. She had spent enough time in his company back in Hertfordshire to know that here was a man who did not let anyone decide his destiny. She noticed that Charlotte was still watching her shrewdly and she hoped her friend was not indulging in romantic speculation. Where her feelings for Mr Darcy were concerned, she was hardly ready to face them herself—she was not even sure what they were. She was certainly not ready to discuss them with anyone else. She turned briskly away and changed the topic of conversation.

  “If you do not mind, my dear Charlotte, I think I may take the opportunity to have a short walk before dinner. The journey in the carriage was long and I would welcome the chance to stretch my legs.”

  “Cer
tainly,” said Charlotte. “And if I may suggest, you would do well to cross the lane into Rosings Park and follow the line of trees to the east until you come to an open grove which edges that side of the park. There is a nice sheltered path there, with a pleasant prospect of the house and surrounding countryside.”

  “It sounds delightful,” said Elizabeth with enthusiasm. “I shall take your suggestion and go there directly.”

  Twilight was starting to fall as Elizabeth made her way along the grove, but there was still ample illumination to light her way. The leaves on the trees and bushes were wet from recent rain and dripped moisture on her as she walked between them, causing her to shiver slightly. But despite this, she enjoyed the peace and solitude. She breathed deeply of the forest air, savouring the scent of pine needles and damp earth. Ah, it was wonderful to take some exercise after the long carriage journey! Even back home in Longbourn, Elizabeth had always treasured her solitary walks around the countryside. They provided an escape from the drama and hysterics that often surrounded her mother and younger sisters, and also a chance to enjoy the country scenery. Elizabeth had always been a great walker and, aside from reading, there was no other activity that gave her greater pleasure.

  As she reached the side of a particularly large beech, she heard a sound behind her and turned curiously. Hoof beats. She looked around the side of the tree trunk, back along the grove and towards a small glade visible through the trees in the distance.

  A rider came into view. A tall man astride a glossy black stallion. Elizabeth’s heart skipped a beat as she recognised that handsome countenance.

  It was Mr Darcy.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Elizabeth jerked back and pressed herself against the tree trunk, feeling its rough bark dig into her skin. She was almost certain that Darcy had not seen her—she was far enough away and well sheltered by the surrounding foliage—but she did not want to take any chances.