by Jennifer Joy
Elizabeth shook her head. "You planned this from the beginning, did you not? Whatever for?"
"I had an idea that your position here might be put into question by the very one who encouraged you to take it. I merely put to rest any doubts Caroline may have about me wanting you here. As to why I am interested in keeping you on, I shall not say. I only encourage you to keep your eyes and ears open to find out for yourself."
She did not know whether to be flattered or fearful to be involved in one of Lady Rutledge's plans. Her breath caught in her throat as she remembered the most important question. "Why did you send Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam to the library to fetch a book? You knew I was there. And for that matter, why would you send me to get a book in a library I am yet unfamiliar with?"
Lady Rutledge's eyes twinkled. The tea was served at that moment, and Elizabeth was on pins and needles while she waited for an answer— if Lady Rutledge deemed her worthy of an answer, that is.
"I have my reasons. You will have to trust me, as that is all I am willing to reveal."
Not one to give up easily, Elizabeth asked, "You will not tell me why you sent them? What role could I possibly have in your plans?"
"Much more than you need to know, dear. However, I am sure that you were grateful to receive their help, were you not? Mr. Darcy is quite tall and could easily retrieve a book from the top shelves."
Elizabeth recalled how he had stretched to his full height. She had felt so small as he towered above her. And when he had fallen on top of her…
"Hmm. I wonder what else transpired in the library to bring you such pleasant thoughts."
Elizabeth wished she had her mother's fan to chase the heat away from her face and hide the silly smile that would not go away.
With a knowing aspect, Lady Rutledge said, "Fear not, dear Eliza. You are in need of laughter and a healthy dose of intrigue."
Sighing in relief at not having to explain what had happened in the library, Elizabeth's mind latched onto Lady Rutledge's words. Perhaps it was impertinent to ask, but she would not know until she tried. "How long did it take you to recover from your loss?"
"From the death of Alistair?" Lady Rutledge leaned her head back against the mound of cushions and placed her hand over her heart.
Sitting up as if recently coming out of a daydream to remember Elizabeth's presence, Lady Rutledge reached over to clutch Elizabeth's hand. "You do realize that losing the love of my life cannot compare to losing a father. It pales in comparison to the love you will feel for the man you marry. I lost part of myself when Alistair breathed his last. Only when I remember the magical life we had together does his memory make me whole again."
Elizabeth’s heart skipped a beat at the prospect of a love as strong as Lady Rutledge had described: A love which transcended the grave. “You make me wish to avoid marriage and desire it all the more at the same time.”
Lady Rutledge focused her gaze on Elizabeth's face. "You will find that there are many more happy memories than there are sad. You will gain in strength each day that passes until you become so strong that the sadness cannot overwhelm you. You become stronger even than your grief."
Blinking to keep her composure, Elizabeth said, "I long for that moment. Months have passed, and I long to be happy again. I miss the carefree girl I once was."
“If I am not mistaken, you caught a glimpse of that this evening,” said Lady Rutledge, a twinkle in her eye.
Elizabeth looked into her lap, so Lady Rutledge could not coerce the story out of her.
"I take your silence as a good sign, Eliza.” Lady Rutledge sighed deeply. “Do not long to go back. You must never do that. Who you are today is infinitely better than who you were yesterday or the day before. You must learn some of my philosophy: Think only of the past as its remembrance gives you pleasure."
And just like that, the conversation took on a frivolous turn. But Elizabeth was glad to have had it. She had to stop living over her mistakes and regrets from the past. They lent no happiness to her future. Father, above all else, would have wanted her to be happy. She ought not feel guilty for that. Had not Mr. Darcy told her the same?
"I am tired now. You can read to me tomorrow." Lady Rutledge dismissed her, and Elizabeth was glad for it. She had much to ponder.
Darcy, too, spent a good deal of time in reflection on arriving home. His actions and the events of the library should have caused him much more embarrassment than they did. That he was at peace with what had transpired— proud even— gave him much to ponder.
He had made her laugh until tears of joy poured from her face. He could even overlook Richard's remarks and elbow nudges the rest of the evening when he recalled how freely and innocently she had laughed.
He would have to take the utmost care around her now. The wall of grief which had surrounded her before had come crumbling down, leaving only a few bricks in place. She would have her moments, but she would be especially vulnerable, and he would see that nobody took advantage of her. He would keep a watchful eye over her— from a distance, like he would hope someone would do for his own sister. Only, his thoughts of Miss Elizabeth were hardly brotherly.
He looked at the stack of letters from Georgiana and from his aunt Matlock. How reassured he had been when his aunt had suggested that Georgiana go with them on a tour of the Lake District before joining him in London at the closing of the Season. What she needed most after her heartbreak was the company of a mature female with a calming influence. It was difficult to look at Richard and know that he possessed such a mother. The two could not be more opposite.
Pulling out a piece of cream paper, Darcy wrote to Georgiana. Should he give her a full and detailed account of the events of the evening? She already knew who Miss Elizabeth was, and she would be curious to know how the lady fared. She would keep his secret just as securely as he kept hers. His quill hovered over the ink pot, paused in midair.
Chapter 21
Elizabeth enjoyed restful slumber, replaying the scenario in the library time and again, watching it in her dreams like a theater performance. If others could see the images in her head, surely they would have roared as heartily as she had. Of course, she was not free to tell anyone about the incident. Except for Jane.
A wave of homesickness swept over Elizabeth— not so much for the home she had lost, but for the people in it.
She wrote to Mother first, careful what details she revealed and including nothing unpleasant to give her concern. She did not want to needle Mother's nerves.
Then, she started her letter to Jane. It brought her joy to relive once again the events of the past days, improprieties and all. Jane would be shocked and would warn her to be cautious lest her reputation suffer by association. While it was something to consider, Elizabeth was curious…
She had only just handed her letters to the butler when she was summoned by Lady Rutledge to the front parlor. They had a caller.
Elizabeth walked into the bright room to see Miss Bingley tugging at the curtains. "Why could you not see me in the drawing room, Aunt? It is much too bright in here and makes my head ache abominably," she complained.
"It is not the brightness which ails you, Caroline, but rather the indulgence of too much drink. Let it serve as a lesson to you to sip daintily," said Lady Rutledge, tapping her spoon against her cup and letting it clatter against her saucer when she put it down. Miss Bingley winced and joined them at the table.
Grabbing her forehead and glaring from under her eyelashes, she grumbled, "Why must she be here?"
"She is my companion now and must go wherever I go. It is an arrangement you insisted on… unless you would rather take over the duty yourself?"
The look of horror on Miss Bingley's face at that moment revealed her feelings on the subject.
"Just as I thought," said Lady Rutledge. "Eliza is a fine companion, and I am so happy that you insisted that she keep an eye on me."
Miss Bingley grumbled under her breath at the ironic turn of events.
Recovering herself as much as she was capable, Miss Bingley drank her tea. Elizabeth waited until she could see her reaction from her first sip before dropping a teaspoon of sugar into her cup. Unlike Lady Rutledge, Elizabeth stirred gently and noiselessly set her teaspoon on the saucer.
"Charles told me what happened last evening, and I came by to express to you my immense displeasure, Aunt. How could you do that to me?"
"My dear girl, you were not the only one affected, and I daresay your reputation will remain untainted by it. It was an honest mistake after all."
Miss Bingley glared. "Honest mistake? You seem to have an inordinate amount of those."
"Life is only lived once, Caroline. Would you rather I live a dull one?"
"I would rather you not live one so lively."
"Never fear. I still intend to leave my fortune to you when I pass. My… mistakes, shall we call them… are not costly and will not diminish your inheritance."
Miss Bingley harrumphed and squirmed in her seat. "I would not put up with you otherwise," she mumbled.
"It is my eyesight which has been affected by age, my dear, not my hearing. I will overlook your comments as you and I are too much alike to agree all the time."
"So long as you have not ruined my chances of securing Mr. Darcy, I shall forgive you," retorted Miss Bingley stiffly.
Elizabeth could not imagine Mr. Darcy choosing to marry someone as haughty and supercilious as Miss Bingley.
Lady Rutledge said, "I found it interesting how you threw yourself at Colonel Fitzwilliam— quite literally."
"I tripped."
"Be that so, you landed in the strong arms of the colonel. He had to carry you over to a chair. He was a good sport about it." Lady Rutledge looked at Miss Bingley intently over the steam ascending from her tea cup.
Miss Bingley shrugged her shoulders. "The colonel is a dashing gentleman, I will give him that. Wherever he goes, he is welcomed by all. But he is only the second son of an earl— the heir presumptive. No amount of charm can make up for that deficiency."
"So he will most likely not inherit his family's title. He still comes from a good family of a higher social circle than ours. Darcy does not have a title," said Lady Rutledge flippantly.
"He does not need one. With an estate as grand as Pemberley and ten thousand pounds a year, he is the ruler of his own kingdom and in need of a queen." Miss Bingley looked pointedly at Elizabeth. "He is not the sort of man to marry the first pretty face to cross his path."
Elizabeth did not think he was of that sort either. She took it as a compliment that Miss Bingley thought her pretty and smiled at her.
To Elizabeth’s satisfaction, Miss Bingley huffed and took a bite of her scone.
"Be careful, Caroline. Darcy is not the sort of man to be told whom he is to marry either," warned Lady Rutledge.
Swallowing quickly, Miss Bingley said, "Well, he certainly would not consider marrying beneath him."
"I believe you are right," replied Lady Rutledge, her eyes fixed on her niece.
The importance given to the circumstances of one's birth grated on Elizabeth's nerves. She had been fortunate enough to be born into a gentleman's family, albeit a gentleman of meager means. Never before had she been made to feel inferior, and she refused to accept it now. Miss Bingley, by the same standards with which she judged others, was only the daughter of a tradesman. All she had was money. Mr. Darcy had no need of that. What would he need in a wife? Elizabeth gave enough attention to the conversation at the table to be polite, but her mind pondered the question.
"Lady Rutledge knows how to throw a dinner party! I have not enjoyed such diversion since… since her last dinner party!" Richard crossed one boot over the other, giving every indication that his visit would not be brief.
Darcy set down his morning paper. He had the luxury of a free morning and Richard was always good company.
"Have you spoken with the officer about his conduct?" he asked.
"I did before I left. He is quite repentant and will not allow himself such freedoms again." He chuckled, adding, "I told him that if he attempted to woo a lady so brazenly, I would have Lady Rutledge run over his other foot."
They laughed together.
"Such impropriety in a public place. He ought to be ashamed. A lady's reputation is nothing to take lightly. If it is lost, she is the one to suffer," Darcy said gravely.
Richard grew serious. "Aye. Georgiana’s near elopement with Wickham is as involved as I ever want to be with such an event. On a lighter note, I received a letter from Mother. She said that Georgiana grows happier every day. Her appetite has improved, and she participates in conversation more."
Darcy blurted, "I told Georgie what happened in the library."
"You did what?" Richard sounded shocked.
It had been impulsive— something Darcy seldom was. But he knew it would make his little sister laugh. If she laughed only half as enthusiastically as Miss Elizabeth had the previous evening, it was worth it to him. He knew Elizabeth would agree— Miss Elizabeth. "I know it was a rash decision, but I made no mention of the lady's name and stated explicitly that you were present. I did not tell her about the drunken scene in the drawing room."
"Good! If she shares this news with my mother, they will cut their trip short so that they might see with what sort of people we mix. Mother comes across as being calm, but if she suspected that I had fallen into bad company, she would not rest until she had set me straight." He grabbed the paper Darcy had set on the table and flipped through it energetically.
Annoyed that he had set his paper aside to attend to Richard, only to have his cousin paw through it, he asked, “What do you search for?”
“I have been reading the advertisements lately. One finds the most interesting things… Take this, for example. These are my favorites!” He cleared his throat to better read in a dramatic voice.
Matrimony— A lady of an affectionate nature and great respectability is solicitous of an equally affectionate and respectable gentleman of middle-age with comfortable circumstances to marry. The lady is lonely and seeks domestic happiness with a life partner.
Crumpling the paper as he attempted to fold it in half, Richard said, “What do you think of that? You ought to take out an advertisement, Darcy. ‘Wealthy landowner seeks female companionship…’ or something to the effect.”
Darcy snatched the paper out of Richard’s hands before he made more of a mess of it than he had. “I would never consider doing such a thing. I have enough difficulty meeting strangers as it is, much less setting myself up for display like—”
“—like some monkey at an exhibition?” Richard guffawed, slapping his thigh at his own cleverness.
Glaring at him, Darcy said, “You are incorrigible. I ought to write to your mother and tell her how young women with healthy dowries throw themselves at your feet and yet, you remain unmarried.”
Richard’s smile disappeared. “You win, Darcy,” he grumbled, his humor gone at the mention of his mother.
“You need not worry. I will not write to her, so long as you refrain from comparing me to savage animals.” Not wanting Richard to leave in a bad mood, he added, “Whoever wrote the advertisement you read was quite clever. Did you notice how she made no mention of her age, income, appearance, or accomplishments?”
Recovering his humor once again, Richard chuckled. “Unless you call being affectionate an accomplishment. I daresay she will get countless replies and may pick whom she deems best out of the lot.”
“It ought to be an accomplishment in a wife. What man would want to marry a block of ice where there should be the heat of passion? I want to marry a woman who would make me forget myself when in her arms; a woman who can ease my worries with a kiss and inspire greatness with a clever word; a woman whose laugh makes me forget what it feels like to be sad and whose curve of the neck makes my heart quiver to caress her; a woman whose scent brings me to my knees and makes me forget to be polite.” His fingers dug in
to the sides of his chair, and he tried to control his breath.
Richard stared at him. “I refrain from teasing you on the intensity of your emotions, Darcy, for I could not have expressed what I want in a wife any better. A man can overlook a great many faults so long as there is loyal passion in his home.” Wiping his hands against his breeches, he said, “I need a drink after that speech.”
Darcy nodded over to the sideboard where a decanter sat surrounded by glasses. He was pleased to see that Richard poured a drink for him too. He needed it.
Chapter 22
A month free of disasters passed, and Elizabeth began to think that perhaps Lady Rutledge had run out of mischief. She hoped so. Miss Bingley did not visit often, the Season being underway and, no doubt, being otherwise more pleasantly engaged in her quest for social prowess.
Elizabeth had accompanied Lady Rutledge on her calls and outings, drives through the park where no pedestrians were endangered, and even to an orchestra performance, several plays, and the opera. They saw Mr. Darcy nearly every day, his tastes remarkably similar to those of Lady Rutledge’s. Elizabeth now looked for him whenever she entered a room.
She found herself with time enough to write regularly to Mother and Lydia, who did not return the favor so often. Lydia was careless and easily amused in other activities, so she thought nothing of her lack of correspondence. But not hearing from Mother filled Elizabeth with guilt every time she thought of her. No doubt, she was upset at being forced to leave her home and begin anew.
Kitty and Mary had sent word, though the letter was obviously penned exclusively by Mary who threw in bits of information about Kitty. Apparently, a young officer called often enough for both Mary and Aunt Phillips to expect that an engagement would be announced soon. Mary had no such romantic inclinations and contented herself with her work. It was what she most wrote about, and she was so good as to include a description of a business trip Uncle let her accompany him on to a nearby village. It made Elizabeth happy to know that at least some of her sisters were finding happiness in their circumstances. They chose not to live in the past, and her resolve to do the same strengthened every day.