CHAPTER NINE
The Gardiners had included an excursion to the village of Matlock and the nearby spa of Matlock Bath on their original itinerary for the next day. This was one of the principal attractions of Derbyshire and they had been greatly looking forward to the visit. Though they were now residing at Pemberley, they saw no reason to change their plans—and when Darcy heard of their scheme, he proposed that his whole party should join them.
The others eagerly agreed, keen perhaps to quit the house for a while. There had been no further explanation put forward for the eerie music from the night before and though a supernatural cause seemed ridiculous now in the light of day, nevertheless, there remained a sense of unease and everyone was glad of the proposed trip as a pleasant distraction.
Everyone save one, perhaps. Elizabeth could see that Caroline Bingley was not best pleased to be spending a day in this fashion with such companions from “Cheapside”, but in the face of Darcy’s enthusiasm for the outing, the lady clearly decided that it was best to keep her thoughts to herself. She took care, however, to organise the carriages so as to ensure that Elizabeth and her relatives rode separately to Darcy and herself.
They set off directly after breakfast and Elizabeth was delighted to be met with the most spectacular vista through the carriage window as they approached Matlock. The village sat on the eastern bank of the river Derwent, with vast ramparts of limestone rock rising around it, clad with yew and elm trees, and the other foliage of the Dales. Most imposing of all was High Tor, a huge mass of almost naked perpendicular rock which reared up to a height of over 350 feet and towered over the surrounding landscape.
They crossed the charming stone bridge which spanned the river and entered the village, finding it filled with many visitors who had come with the same intention of taking the waters and enjoying the picturesque beauty of the surrounding countryside. Elizabeth was gratified to see that Darcy’s amiable behaviour towards her aunt and uncle continued from the night before: he made frequent attempts to engage her uncle in conversation and, upon learning of her aunt’s interest in church architecture, made a special stop at the village church for her to admire the ancient tower with its whimsical pinnacles decorated with figures of grotesque animals.
From the church, they travelled on to Matlock Bath, a mile and a half from the village, which had gained celebrity for its warm springs that boasted enviable medicinal qualities. The waters were believed to be of benefit to several diseases, including glandular diseases, rheumatism, gout, nervous disorders, and even consumption in its early stages. Thus, they stopped at the Old Bath to take a glass of the waters and test its curative properties for themselves.
The water was cloudy and milky, and Elizabeth could not help making a face as she sipped from the glass. It had a strange, slightly metallic taste. She saw Darcy watching her in amusement, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“I see the waters are not quite to your liking, Miss Bennet,” he said. “Perhaps you would wish to wash away their taste with an ice cream.”
“Ice cream?” Elizabeth looked at him in surprise, for while cream ices were becoming all the rage in London and regular visits to specialty confectioner’s shops were almost de rigeur for one of the fashionable set, it was rare to see these delicious concoctions in towns and villages outside the capital.
“Certainly, for Matlock Bath boasts a new confectioner’s shop which has begun offering ice creams and fruit ices in all shapes and flavours. It seems that the influx of visitors to the area has inspired some enterprising confectioner to make the most of his skills in creating sweet refreshments to tempt the palate.”
“Oh yes, I should dearly love an ice cream,” said Caroline Bingley quickly, stepping between Darcy and Elizabeth. “Mr Darcy, pray do escort me to the shop without delay for I declare, I am quite parched from all this walking and a fruit ice would be the very thing.”
A look of annoyance flashed across Darcy’s face, but he bowed politely and offered Miss Bingley his arm. The entire party followed them down the cobbled streets until they arrived outside a small confectioner’s shop by the village square. It was a tiny premises, little more than a counter facing the street, but it was doing a roaring trade by the look of things. There was a queue of people forming in front of the shop sign and a crowd of local children swarmed around the doorway, wistfully eyeing the ice creams carried out by the shop patrons.
“Shoo! Leave! Be gone with you!” Miss Bingley said, waving her arms irritably at several small children and shoving them out of her way as she attempted to enter the store.
Darcy frowned as one little boy tripped and fell to the ground. Elizabeth bent to help him to his feet. He was a peasant child of about six years old, with bare legs and a dirt-streaked face, but she found his cheeky grin very appealing. She set him right, dusted him off, and gave him a pat on the head, then followed the others into the store.
There was a smorgasbord of flavours to choose from: bergamot, chocolate, orangeflower, coconut, burnt filbert, parmesan, jasmine, white coffee, tea, pineapple, barberries, and more. After much deliberation, Elizabeth selected a lemon water ice, scented with elderflowers, and was delighted when her fruit glacé came moulded in the shape of a pineapple.
The taste was wonderfully refreshing, tingling and tart at first, then melting into lingering sweetness on the tongue. The only thing which spoilt her enjoyment was glancing up to see the wistful face of the little peasant boy pressed against the glass of the shop window. She knew that the children of country farmers could never afford such treats and felt slightly guilty at her easy pleasure.
At length, they quitted the shop and made their way slowly back towards the carriage. A few dozen yards into their walk, Elizabeth noticed that Darcy was missing from their party. She turned and was surprised to see him disappearing around the corner from which they had just come. Puzzled and curious, she left the group and hurried in his wake. She rounded the corner to see him standing once more in front of the confectioner’s store, but this time the ice creams he purchased were being passed into eager young hands.
Elizabeth watched, a lump in her throat, as Darcy bought ice creams for every peasant child in the village, and smiled affably as they surrounded him with eager thanks, reaching out with their grubby hands and leaving stains on his fine clothes. How could she have ever thought him cold and conceited? He was full of nobility and kindness, though he hid it well behind a taciturn façade.
She was careful not to let him see her observing the scene and quickly rejoined the others before he returned to them. There was one more pleasure for the itinerary before they returned to Pemberley: a walk in the woods on the other side of the river, a place renowned for its picturesque views of Matlock Dale. The party strolled to the opposite bank and then followed the paths meandering through the woodland. One followed the edge of the winding river and was particularly romantic, with the trees on either side spreading their branches over the path to form an archway of soft greenery.
“It is known as the Lovers’ Walk,” said Darcy, as they paused at its start and he turned to offer Elizabeth his arm, ignoring Caroline Bingley on his other side.
Elizabeth glanced at him quickly, but could detect nothing significant in his tone. Attempting to match his cool demeanour, she placed her hand on his arm and they fell into step together. The others followed in pairs and trios behind them, but the setting was such that it was almost as if they were walking alone.
Elizabeth sighed happily, overcome by the peace and beauty of her surroundings. She was very aware of the man by her side and could not help her mind yearning towards a future where she could always walk thus, arm in arm with Darcy, through beautiful woodland groves and riverside promenades…
She shook her head, slightly disconcerted at where her thoughts had led her. What was she thinking? She stole a quick glance at the gentleman beside her, hoping that no hint of her fantasies had shown on her face. Darcy may have been an amiable and welcoming ho
st, but that did not mean that he was ready or willing to renew his proposal to her. And yet—as she turned her head and their eyes met—she found a softness in his dark gaze which set her heart racing.
Could there be a second chance for them after all?
CHAPTER TEN
Elizabeth found herself awake with the sunrise the following morning. The previous day had been one of unimagined joy and delight. Even after their return from Matlock, Darcy had been sweetly attentive all through the evening, and she had gone to bed with her head full of him. She did not know what to think—did not dare dream that she could expect a renewal of his affections—and yet she could not help a fervent hope growing in her heart.
She lay in bed for a further hour, attempting in vain to return to slumber, before finally giving up. She rose, dressed, and quietly left her room. The household seemed to be mostly still asleep—the corridors and hallways were empty save for a few servants who were going about their daily duties. Elizabeth made her way out to the rear courtyard and then along the route which led into the extensive grounds of Pemberley.
She soon found herself walking along an unfamiliar path which she had not explored with her aunt and uncle during their prior visit. It led to the stable block which was situated on rising ground to the north-east of the main house. The soft whickering of the horses and the warm smells of hay and feed gave a wonderfully earthy feel to the place and Elizabeth breathed deeply in appreciation.
She wandered past the elegant carriage house erected at the side of the stable block and was about to enter the walled stable courtyard when she was brought short by the sight of a man slipping out of the carriage house door. It was his scarlet coat that caught her attention, and she realised with a start that it was George Wickham.
He had seen her too and paused in his tracks, turning towards her with that familiar brash grin. “Why… good morning, Miss Bennet! If I did not know better, I would suspect you of shadowing me, so frequently do we meet!”
“How dare you!” said Elizabeth angrily. “What are you doing on this property? If you do not leave at once, I shall summon the servants to apprehend you.”
Wickham laughed and swept her a flamboyant bow. “Until next time, my sweet,” he said, catching hold of her hand and pressing a kiss to her fingers before she could stop him.
Elizabeth snatched her hand away and stepped back from him, but Wickham had already turned and disappeared around the side of the carriage house. She took a deep breath, attempting to calm her agitation, but as she turned back towards the stable courtyard, her heart lurched uncomfortably.
Darcy was stepping out of the courtyard entrance. He was wearing a riding jacket and breeches, and had obviously just returned from a ride. A thunderous expression overcame his face. He rushed forwards just as Wickham sprang out of the undergrowth behind the carriage house on horseback. The highwayman turned his head, saw Darcy, and hastily lashed his horse, spurring it into a full gallop.
Darcy made an urgent movement forwards, but it was apparent that chase was futile. He stopped and watched in frustration as Wickham disappeared rapidly into the surrounding woods.
He rounded on Elizabeth, his face dark with anger. “What was that man doing on my estate?” he asked, his voice dangerously quiet.
“I do not know,” said Elizabeth. “I was as greatly surprised to encounter him as you are.”
“He must have told you his business.”
“Why should you think that?”
Darcy’s face was cold and remote. “Your encounter did not look like one between strangers.” It was evident that he had witnessed that saucy kiss Wickham had placed on her hand.
Elizabeth felt a flash of impatience and vexation. Why was he so quick to doubt her? After their closeness yesterday, she had thought them beyond such abrupt misgivings.
“I cannot help what others think,” she said tartly. “I know the truth, whatever may be their misinterpretation.”
“It was no misinterpretation when I witnessed your lone encounter with Wickham in the night at Netherfield Park,” Darcy snapped.
“That was a most unfortunate coincidence!” Elizabeth retorted angrily. “It was certainly not my intent to meet him when I sought some fresh air to cure a headache.”
“Just as it was the same unlucky coincidence that led you to encounter him today?” said Darcy sarcastically. “Do you think that I—”
He broke off suddenly as the door to the carriage house creaked open. Elizabeth turned to see a young woman step out. She realised that it was Tilly the maid and in her arms was a smiling babe. The maid flushed, obviously embarrassed at witnessing their altercation. She bobbed a quick curtsy, keeping her eyes downcast.
“Good mornin’, sir, miss… Beggin’ your pardon…”
Darcy’s face froze into a mask of icy hauteur. He gave the maid a nod, Elizabeth a curt bow, then turned and strode away.
“Oh… I’m… I’m ever so sorry, miss…” stammered Tilly.
Elizabeth sighed. “’Tis not your fault, Tilly.” She smiled, attempting to lighten the atmosphere. “Is this your child? I had not realised that you were a mother.”
The maid beamed. “Yes, miss, this five months past.” She hesitated, flushing slightly and dropping her gaze. “I were with child when I left Netherfield Park.”
Elizabeth looked at her in surprise. Most employers would have turned an unmarried, pregnant servant away. That Darcy should have looked after Tilly and given her a respectable position in such a noble household was a testament to his decency and chivalry. She felt her anger at him lessen slightly.
“He is a beautiful babe,” she complimented Tilly, who flushed with pleasure.
The baby gurgled and stuck his finger into his mouth, grinning widely. As she looked at his dark curls and laughing eyes, Elizabeth was struck by the resemblance and realised who the father must be. Was this what Wickham had meant when he talked of visiting “family”? Did this explain his presence on the Pemberley estate?
“Tilly, is Wickham the father of this child?” she asked gently.
The maid hesitated, then nodded, an expression of shame overcoming her face. “Yes, miss.”
Understanding dawned on Elizabeth. “And was he with you in the carriage house just now? Is that why he was here?”
Tilly nodded. “When I arrived at Pemberley, the master arranged accommodation with the stable staff in the carriage house for me, so I could have me baby near me. Wickham found out an’ came here to see us.” She raised frightened eyes. “Oh, miss, I beg you, don’t tell Mr Darcy! Wickham promised ’twould only be the one time an’ he wouldn’t come again. He wanted to see his own child, you see, an’ I couldn’t deny him.”
Elizabeth felt moved by the girl’s distress. And though she did not like the man, she felt that she could not begrudge Wickham the opportunity to see his own son. Still… She glanced at Tilly, hoping that the girl had learned her lesson back in Hertfordshire and would not succumb to the highwayman’s seductive charm again.
Tilly gulped back tears. “Please, miss, if I should lose me position here, there’ll be no place for me to go an’ me babe will starve! I beg you—”
“Rest easy, Tilly,” said Elizabeth. “I have no intention of exposing you to Mr Darcy, though he is a kind man and I think he would be understanding of your reasons. Has he not shown great compassion in giving you a position here?”
Tilly nodded earnestly. “Aye, he has, miss, an’ I’m ever so grateful. But I don’t want him thinkin’ that I’ve repaid his kindness by bringin’ a criminal into his home.”
“Well…” Elizabeth shifted uncomfortably. “Your secret is safe with me, Tilly. And now I must return to the house and join the others for breakfast.”
Tilly gave her a hasty curtsy and hurried away, clutching the baby to her chest. Elizabeth walked slowly back to the house, her thoughts uneasy.
Elizabeth’s mood was not improved when she entered the breakfast parlour and saw Darcy standing by the windows. From th
e stiffness of his posture and the stony expression on his face, it was evident that he was still angry over their recent encounter.
“Why, Miss Eliza, we were all wondering where you were!” said Caroline Bingley, a derisive smile curling the corners of her mouth.
Elizabeth advanced into the room, saying as calmly as she could, “I awoke early and decided to take a walk about the grounds.”
“Oh? I would not have thought the weather quite muddy enough to tempt you,” said Caroline with a sneering laugh which her sister joined in.
Elizabeth attempted to ignore the barbed comments and sat down at the table to partake of the hot rolls and pastries there. Thankfully Darcy’s other guests were far better bred and moved to steer the conversation onto other topics. There was soon a lively discussion between her aunt and uncle and the other guests, which culminated in the men agreeing to go out for a morning of fishing.
Elizabeth noted that Georgiana was missing from the breakfast table and upon enquiring of Miss Annesley, she learned that the girl was taking breakfast in her own apartments.
“I believe she is still a trifle fatigued by the excursion yesterday. She has also not been sleeping well since the incident with the pianoforte two nights ago,” said Miss Annesley. “But I hope that she will have recovered enough to join us for dinner tonight.”
Darcy said not a word during breakfast, sitting in a brooding silence which discouraged even Caroline Bingley’s persistent flirtation. He studiously avoided Elizabeth’s eyes and—having felt the warmth of his gaze so frequently in the past few days—she was now very aware of its absence. He left with the other gentlemen at the end of breakfast, without a further word or glance in her direction. She did not see him again until after luncheon, and still he refused to look at or speak to her. Caroline Bingley observed the change in their interactions with great delight and pressed her advantage, singling Darcy out and attempting to engage him in conversation at every opportunity.
Secrets at Pemberley Page 5