The Curse of Land's End

by Rose Lorimer

  During one of our previous conversations, he had mentioned selling his commission and fulfilling an old dream to be a farmer. When he talked about those plans, it crossed my mind he might have hinted something to me. It could not be, though. After my inquires about Mr Darcy’s behaviour, he just praised his cousin’s qualities, encouraging me to be patient with him — something not very typical for a man with matrimonial intentions.

  In the end, I felt safe in his company — which was a good thing, considering my mind was fully engaged in understanding his cousin.

  Chapter 8

  Darcy

  On the fourth day of our journey, we saw Bingley’s rented house at the top of a cliff facing the sea. Miss Elizabeth seemed thrilled to have finally arrived. “Thank God, we are here at last!” she said to my utter mortification.

  Had I been such bad company?

  I frowned. I knew I had.

  Our reception was warm and brought me a modicum of pleasure. I was happy to see Bingley again.

  “Darcy! Old pal! How are you? It is so good to see you!” Bingley said, giving me an affable pat on my back. “Please, allow me to introduce my dear wife. Good Heavens, man, you seem taller, or perhaps thinner. Where have you been?”

  Mrs Bingley approached us and gave me a warm smile as her husband introduced her with great enthusiasm. She was everything Bingley had described. Her singular beauty was a feast for the eyes. Her corn-blond hair was arranged simply, but it suited her. Her skin was creamy, but with pink cheeks, granting her beautiful face a healthy and happy demeanour. Her eyes, however, although as green as those of her younger sister, lacked the same mischief, showing, instead, goodness and tranquillity. Simply put, she was a perfect match for Bingley’s amiable nature.

  Mrs Bingley reminded me of Georgiana, and I wished she could be there with us.

  Miss Elizabeth left the carriage and ran to her sister with open arms. Their reunion was a touching moment. After spending so much time in Miss Elizabeth’s company, I had the immediate impression that the two sisters were as different in temperament as they were in appearance.

  The large property Bingley had rented could not be better situated. On the highest point of the Lamorna Hill, the stony house had a wonderful view of the sea and the beautiful land around it. The lack of tall trees, replaced by low vegetation typical in that part of the country, gave it a desolate, almost foreign and wild appearance. My bedroom faced the sea, and the small balcony beyond the French-door windows provided a perfect spot to observe the sunrise over the horizon.

  The temporary servants seemed to be efficient and Mr and Mrs Nancarrow, the butler and the housekeeper, the ones responsible for the property, seemed to know what they were doing. I was relieved for it. I had given my valet the whole month to visit his relatives, as I was trying to leave behind anything that could remind me of my present life. So, apart from Richard, everything else was new to me.

  So far, I was satisfied.

  ***

  Life in the following week was as pleasant as I had hoped. It was strange to spend winter without snow, but this event was very rare in that part of the country, as were extreme low temperatures. That provided me ample opportunities for long rides and my so desired solitude. The only inconvenience was the rain, which sometimes could be very strong and cold.

  When Bingley’s business did not demand his attention, we could spend the day in long walks, visiting nearby villages, local ports and pubs. When the weather was not suitable for outdoor activities, we were happy to stay in the house, playing games, talking, admiring the ladies as they played the pianoforte and sang, or discussing any subject that could interest us. I also confirmed Miss Elizabeth had not exaggerated her lack of female talents. From the expected accomplishments, singing seemed to be her only one. I cannot say it displeased me. Now I knew she was not so perfect after all.

  My involvement in the activities was not very consistent. I would take part in discussions or games only when I was truly inclined to it. I had forbidden myself to spoil their entertainment because of my occasional foul mood. But on those few occasions when I was inclined to take part, I noticed how Miss Elizabeth was always encouraging me, sometimes even teasing me, asking me questions and making comments about controversial subjects. I had the impression she enjoyed my debating with her for the simple pleasure of it.

  When I was not directly involved in whatever they were doing, I had noticed Miss Elizabeth’s gaze hovering over me. Not that I was complaining. Secretly, I felt flattered and… content? But I wondered what could be the reason for it. After two days together in the house, she already knew exactly how I liked my tea and coffee, my preferences for books and themes for debates, and, when singing, my favourite songs. It was as if she was trying to please me and keep me involved. Yet, there was not a single moment when she was too forward or impertinent. No, it seemed mere kindness.

  “What do you think about this subject, Mr Darcy?” she asked me one evening while we were debating.

  That night we had gathered in the drawing room after dinner to talk and appreciate the superb brandy Bingley had found in a local store — smuggled, of course. That night we were talking about the differences between men and women — a delicate subject to Miss Elizabeth, I had noticed.

  Richard — valiantly, I dare say, especially considering some of her previous reaction to some other comments — mentioned that men were physically stronger and, consequently, braver in the face of danger, like when they gathered on a battlefield, waiting for the enemy to arrive. “But I could never be able to give birth to a child, I must admit,” he concluded with a large smile, suddenly shivering. Peals of laughter, and justified reproaches and blushes followed his statement.

  But the comment reminded me of my mother’s early death and the newfound smile I was holding started to vanish. Miss Elizabeth must have noticed it because she skilfully changed the direction of the conversation without being obvious or rude. I had come to admire this sensitive side of her — and now was grateful for it.

  “But what about their minds? Would you say they are different, Colonel? Or would you say men are more intelligent than women?” She posed her question in a way I found both sweet and intimidating. If I knew her better — and I believed I already did — I would say she was retaliating.

  Hiding a chuckle, I felt sorry for my cousin.

  “Hmm. You put me in a very difficult position, Miss Bennet,” Richard said, arching his eyebrows and hiding a smirk. “If I say I do not think men and women are equal in intellect, you would probably be furious with me, because I know this is what you think. But if I do so, I would not be truthful. Being in the army for such a long time, I have limited my interaction with women to social events, and I am afraid to say that, in those occasions, women’s intellect is not very impressive.”

  Miss Elizabeth beamed, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “A very diplomatic answer for sure, Colonel, because I cannot disagree with you on this particular point. I confess you caught me. What do you think about this subject, Mr Darcy?” she asked, turning to me.

  Oh, God. And there I was feeling sorry for my cousin.

  All eyes turned to me and a feeling of anticipation filled the room. I swallowed hard. But instead of feeling cornered, I felt revived by the challenge of her question. I knew how intelligent and knowledgeable she was, so I gave it some thought before replying, choosing my words wisely. I could not waste such a good opportunity. “I would say, I must agree with my cousin’s observation, Miss Elizabeth. If women’s intellect were like men, would you not say we should have many more philosophers, musicians, and artists of your sex? But, alas, that is not the case.”

  Her reaction was everything I was expecting. Her beautiful mouth fell open as her emerald eyes shone in outrage, throwing daggers at me. She was absolutely alluring when angry. May God help me for provoking her, but I knew I had achieved my goal.

  A sudden and unexpected awareness hit me. The sight of her glorious jade eyes glaring at me, mad
e me see how… attached I had become to her. Good angels in Heaven. I was developing feelings for her.

  “Very good, Mr Darcy,” she said, breaking through my realisation. “But you have answered my question without really answering it. So, you say that because of the rarity of remarkable women in the subjects you mentioned, we must conclude that this is because of our… lower intellect. Hmm… I wonder…” She began to walk around the room, her expression as if in deep reflexion, her finger tapping on her chin. “If this argument is correct, I believe someone could never use it in the opposite way. Oh, wait. It is possible.”

  I felt a shiver running down my spine and leaned back on my chair, crossing my arms over my chest, stretching out my legs, pretending confidence. This verbal fencing was exhilarating. I forgot the world existed. Everything else, apart from what was in that room, vanished. In fact, everyone else vanished. In that moment, it was just the two of us. She now had my complete attention.

  “Would you not agree,” she continued, arching her eyebrows and turning back to me, “that women’s intellect is, in fact, superior to men exactly because of it? History tells us that almost all the nasty and terrible events, easily avoidable, were caused by men’s decisions? Did not men cause all the wars, from ancient Greece to Rome, from the far east to Europe, from past to present days? As it is, one can also conclude that if war, death and destruction are all traces of a superior intellect, I am quite happy to be of an inferior one,” she concluded, a smirk spread on her delightful lips.

  Delightful lips I suddenly had the urge to kiss.

  A loud laugh broke the silence that followed. I startled and was brought back from my reverie, shifting in my seat. A delighted Richard stood up and walked towards Miss Elizabeth, clapping his hands. He pulled her hand towards his lips, bestowing a kiss on her gloved hand. “Well said, Miss Bennet. And I bow to your ‘inferiority’. Perhaps if we had more women at the head of the kingdom and the army, English history would be quite different.”

  She curtsied to him and looked back at me, as if waiting for a declaration. I could do nothing, but oblige the lady. “I can just echo my cousin’s words, Miss Elizabeth. Despite our history not mentioning many women, those who were mentioned are of a much superior intellect.” I stood up. “And I also bow to such ‘inferiority’.”

  A warm smile graced her face. “I thank you, gentlemen. And Mr Darcy, despite my provocation, your answer was not different from what I already suspected,” she said, leaving her meaning in the air.

  The minx! Did she already know I admire her singularity? Could it be true she already knew me that well? Good Lord! How infuriating this woman could be!

  I grabbed my brandy and turned to the window, my smile waning. I hated myself for admiring her and enjoying our banter. Just thinking she was returning the same feeling annoyed me even more.

  What is happening between us?

  I sighed. In the end, it did not matter. I could not allow this increasing warmth to continue invading me. It should stop.

  But my heart seemed to have another notion.

  After that night, as the following days were passing, I noticed my own rebellious eyes searching for Miss Elizabeth when entering a room, looking at her when she was talking to somebody else, feeling my pulse beating faster when she looked at me, and my breath caught in my chest when she talked to me. Her sweet voice and mischievous eyes were creating a sensation I could not understand. I felt so alive, so comfortable, so confident. For the first time since my father’s death, I felt happy for being who I am. Her lips… I had to control myself not to run and embrace her, kiss her senseless, and purge all my pain in the comfort of her arms. I felt she could accept me for what I was, and not for what I possessed as my aunt and Anne had done. At her side, I could forget the world, my problems, and be myself.

  “Darcy, have you considered that perhaps you are falling in love with her?” Richard suggested as we rode our horses on a drizzling morning, after I had shared my struggles.

  His question revived the battle inside me.

  I knew — even if I could pretend bitterness and pain did not fill my world and I could keep my past away from me — I could not nurture such love, despite my deepest feelings. It would bring me down.

  “You have been singing her praises,” I retorted. “If she is all that you are saying, why not pursue her yourself? Soon you will have the means! Surely, you know Miss Elizabeth will be an excellent wife.” My head hung in defeat. “You know it will hurt her if I encourage a relationship I cannot afford.”

  “I tried.”

  His response was so unexpected that I almost fell from my horse. “What?”

  My sudden surprise earned me a chuckle. “I tried to hint my interest in her, but she never even considered it. She clearly prefers you, Darcy. During our time in the carriage, I noticed you were trying to avoid her, and I knew why. So I took upon myself the hard task of entertaining the lady. While we were spending time together, I noticed her eyes were always on you, so I poured all of my charms on her. It did not work. She has been looking at you in the same way since you two met in London. Me? I feel like an older brother by the way she treats me. So, eventually, feeling my ego hurt, I gave up.” A silent followed. Then he added, “Can you not see it?”

  Last night’s nightmare came vividly to my memory. I could have sworn she was there by my bed, caressing my face, speaking kind words.

  It did not matter if I could see it or not. It did not change the fact it was an impossible dream.

  “Why do you not tell her. I mean, explain about your life and what happened? Perhaps she can understand—”

  “And then what? Expect that she could accept me as… I am… now?”

  “Darcy, what happened between you, Anne and Aunt Catherine is not your fault. You cannot keep blaming yourself. You deserve to be happy—”

  “Desist, Richard. I cannot drag Miss Elizabeth into the mess that is my life. I respect her too much to even consider the possibility of us together…”

  “But Darcy—”

  “No, Richard, please. Forget about it. I… I cannot… I shall not…” I said, turning my face from him.

  Richard sighed and turned, urging his horse back to the house.

  In that moment, I decided I would keep myself as far as possible from Miss Elizabeth.

  And so help me God.

  Chapter 9

  Elizabeth

  The week following our arrival provided me everything I had been craving since leaving London: a good time among friends, lively conversation, and great food. The Cornish cuisine was extraordinary, even Edith seemed to be enjoying herself lately, despite her continuous silence. Only Mr Darcy seemed immune to the appealing food, keeping to his bird’s portions.

  My exchange with Jane included plenty of hugs, kisses, and cuddles; a balm for my sore heart. As she poured her serenity and kindness on me, my frustrations and anxieties were put aside. I loved my sister more than ever. How I had missed her!

  Everything was as it should be, but for one small detail — the enigmatic Mr Darcy! And I told Jane as much.

  “I know you are right,” I said as we took our tea. “But the more I try to put those concerns behind me — I know it is not my place to do anything to help him — his sad eyes keep plaguing my thoughts and dreams. It is maddening! But I cannot help it. I am drawn to him every time we share a room. I observe him, involuntarily learning each of his small preferences — how he likes his tea, his coffee, his songs!” I looked around, checking if we had the proper privacy, then I whispered, “Yesterday, I could not sleep. I am not aware of the time, but I decided to go to the kitchen and have some warm milk. On my way down the corridor, I heard it.”

  Jane’s brows came together. “What did you hear?”

  I lowered my eyes embarrassed for what I was about to confess. “I heard Mr Darcy… whimpering. I stopped by his door, not sure what to do. But then, the noise started again. I could hear the pain in his voice.” I raised my eyes to Jane, ple
ading for her to understand me. “I do not know what came over me, but I opened the door and despite the lack of light, I knew he was having a nightmare. I blew out my candle and approached him. He was struggling, saying, ‘No, please, hold my hand. I can take you out. No! Do not let go!’’ I panicked. I needed to do something. I put one hand on his head and with the other I held his. I told him everything was well, that he was safe. He was sweating, Jane, as if he had a fever! I could not help myself. It broke my heart to see him suffering so much. It seemed so real! I kept caressing his face, and to my great surprise, he stopped. Oh, Jane! He opened his eyes, and I jumped away from his bed into the darkness of the room, just hoping the small light coming from the window would not reveal my presence. He pressed his hands against his eyes and groaned!”

  I could not stay still. Putting away my teacup, I stood up and began to pace the small room. “He groaned, Jane! It was almost my undoing. I was about to reveal I was there for him when he whispered, ‘Oh, God, now I am dreaming about her… How much more suffering shall I be able to endure?’ What is that supposed to mean?”

  Jane’s expression was one of terror. “Lizzy! Do not tell me he—”

  “No! He did not see me. He just put his arm across his face. But I could not wait for him to sleep again. What if he decided to get some water? I held my breath and crawled towards the door, trying to be as quiet as possible. I released a long breath when I was outside on the corridor. I stood up and was returning to my room when he opened his door and saw me. I almost jumped, Jane. ‘Miss Elizabeth? Are you well?’ he asked me. Oh, Jane, my heart was in my throat! Fortunately, the darkness disguised my embarrassment. ‘Yes… I am… humm… going to the kitchen to fetch some milk. Would you like some?’ I asked. He looked into my eyes and shook his head, returning to his room. He seemed so tired… I cannot avoid thinking something very dreadful must have happened to him.”