by Jennifer Joy
Clearing his throat while he thought of a more cheerful question to bring her out of her past sufferings and into the joyous future, he asked, "Do you plan to live in London?"
"Indeed, we do not plan to stay in London. Alfonso has an estate outside Bath. I have always wanted to go to Bath. I went once when I was a girl, and I imagine that it is much changed."
Darcy nodded, and the gesture was sufficient for Mrs. Bennet to carry on in her conversation.
"Alfonso has a son and two daughters of his own. The eldest son has taken over the family's business, so we are free to retire into the country— although I suspect that I will give him reasons enough to frequent Bath and London." She smiled contentedly. "How lovely it will be when we can travel as we see fit." She lowered her voice and looked pointedly at Elizabeth. "She would never admit her father's faults, but he never once took me to town— even though I dearly wanted to. My girls' education was not properly conducted. It is mostly my fault, I know, but when every effort of mine to see that my daughters study under the masters in town was hindered, I gave up. I can see so clearly now what an injustice I did to my girls. At least, with my marriage, they will have more time to settle."
Darcy stared in amazement at the woman beside him. Was this the same silly creature he had been told about by Mr. Bennet?
Not one to remain serious for long, an impression Darcy was relieved to see verified, Mrs. Bennet continued, "But I will make the most of it! That is my determination. You see, Mr. Darcy— and I have no shame in admitting as much to you when you already know my methods— I met Mr. Carissimi through my advertisement. I came to London with the sole purpose of marrying as soon as it could be arranged. I took care to select a gentleman who would be kind to not only me, but also to my daughters. It is my wish that they join us at his estate. There are many marriageable young gentlemen about Bath, and I am in a better position to promote my girls properly as Mr. Carissimi's wife. He has been most agreeable."
Now in possession of much more information than he was entitled to, Darcy did his best not to appear too interested in her conversation. What plans did she have for Elizabeth? Did she know how tender his regard for Elizabeth was? Did Elizabeth feel the same?
He did not realize that he had been staring ahead at the object of his affections until Mrs. Bennet tugged on his sleeve. "Of course, Mr. Darcy, if you think that my Lizzy stands a better chance at securing a happy future here in London, I shall not even make mention of quitting to Bath…" She looked up at him, her eyebrows arching so high, her pupils dotted them as question marks.
There was one matter he must hear from Mrs. Bennet’s lips before he would allow himself the joy of asking for Elizabeth’s hand. Keeping his expression steady, he said, "You must do what you think is best for all of your daughters, Mrs. Bennet. I do not expect you to do any less for Miss Elizabeth. Am I to understand, then, that you have forgiven me?"
Her bewilderment stunned him cold. “Forgive you, Mr. Darcy? Whatever for?”
His fingers turned to ice. “For the wrong I committed against Mr. Bennet. I wrote a letter, which Mr. Phillips ensured me that he delivered, detailing what had transpired between us on his return from Hunsford before his death.” This was a disaster! If Mrs. Bennet was unaware of what the wrong he had done Mr. Bennet, then Elizabeth did not know of it at all. He forced himself to breathe slowly.
“Mr. Darcy, what happened in the past is done and gone. I see no reason why you should torment yourself over one who is deceased these many months.”
“Mrs. Bennet, I—” he started.
“Mr. Darcy, I must insist. I have no desire to speak of Mr. Bennet nor hear any news regarding him. He is gone and we have continued on. In the time we have known you, I have yet to see you act with anything but the greatest consideration for others. If forgiveness is what you seek, then consider yourself pardoned and let us speak no more of the subject when today is a day for merriness.”
They neared the dinner boxes and the waiter he had made arrangements with welcomed them. “Mr. Darcy, please come. I have reserved the finest dinner box for you and your party.”
Darcy followed his direction in stunned silence, mechanically filling his part as the host of their gathering. He needed to talk to Elizabeth.
They filed into the dinner box made to fit a group of their size. The night descended over them, but the lamp at the table illuminated a lovely painting of milkmaids dancing to the tune of a peg-legged violinist. They looked carefree and gay.
Elizabeth looked at Mother, who sat next to Mr. Carissimi. She looked as cheerful as the dancing figures in the painting.
Painful as it was, she had to acknowledge that there was the possibility that Mr. Carissimi would be a better husband to her than Father had been. She could give him the benefit of the doubt and assume that he was sincere. He certainly appeared to be. Even Lydia, who sat on his other side, hung on his every word. Could he be the source of the positive changes Mother had made in her treatment of Lydia?
Thinly sliced ham, cold meats, chicken, cheeses, salads, custards, tarts, cakes, puddings, wine, beer, cider, and arrack punch were dexterously arranged on the table before them, and Elizabeth partook of the spread before her with a lighter heart. She felt Mr. Darcy’s gaze upon her, and she smiled her thanks and appreciation for the trouble he had gone to. No other dinner box had such a fine spread, and it was not every day one could enjoy a ride in a balloon.
"— finishing school?!" shrieked Lydia from across the table, pulling Elizabeth out of her reverie.
"What is this?" she asked, having missed what had led to Lydia's outburst.
Lady Rutledge leaned in and whispered in her ear. "Apparently she is to stay in town to attend a ladies finishing school after the wedding." Dropping her voice even lower, she added, "Personally, I think she stands to benefit a great deal from such an education. I applaud your mother."
Crossing her arms and sticking out her bottom lip, Lydia complained, "I refuse to stay behind at some stuffy school while you go to Bath and have all the fun."
Mr. Carissimi said, "It is not a decision your mother made lightly. You will be in the same school as my daughter Isabel so that you will not feel alone. You will join us in Bath for your holidays, and we will do our best to see to your diversion on such occasions."
Lydia’s forehead bunched up. “How am I to be the first among my sisters to marry if I am stuck in a stuffy, boring school?”
“Eat, dear. It does no good to fret on an empty stomach,” soothed Mother. Fortunately for everyone at the table, the orchestra began playing. Between the good food and the lively music, Lydia forgot her current plight enough to pay heed to Mother.
Chapter 30
A whistle blew and dozens of servants sped out into the gardens to light hundreds of glass lamps hanging from the trees. It was as if the heavens of a clear night had descended upon them to surround them with stars. The flickering flames danced their reflections inside their glass orbs, twinkling like a scene out of the Arabian Nights. If she closed her eyes, Elizabeth could smell the exotic spices in the warm air.
The music played softly, and the ham tasted like none other in its superiority. Even the rum punch, of which she partook sparingly, burst with flavor in her mouth. Laughter and merry conversation filled the air, and Elizabeth opened her eyes and heart to enjoy every moment. It was difficult to imagine, in such a place, that she had ever been unhappy or sad. She watched the others at the table. Mother and Mr. Carissimi conversed with Lady Rutledge, Lydia remained stubbornly cross despite their magical surroundings, Mr. Bingley was engaged in a lively discussion with Colonel Fitzwilliam, Miss Bingley alternated between arguing with the colonel and trying to include Mr. Darcy.
Mr. Darcy sat at the other end of the booth, but the distance did nothing to lessen the intensity in his eyes as he gazed upon Elizabeth. She could not read his stormy expression, but her skin prickled all over her body in response to it.
The occupants of the boxes surrounding them
soon emptied and an impromptu ball formed in the open grass before them. It was lovely to see the ladies, dressed in their finest evening gowns, parading before them on the arms of gentlemen proud to be seen with them.
Mr. Bingley, never one to give up an opportunity to dance, asked Mother if he might have the pleasure of a dance. She was delighted to be asked— even though Lydia took it as a personal affront that her mother should be asked before she was.
Everyone in the box thus paired up and dispersed across the lawn, Mr. Darcy asked in a low voice, "Would you like to take a turn around the lawn with me?"
She could not deny him. "Of course, Mr. Darcy."
They walked a short distance within view of the hundreds of dancing couples. The crowd gave them a certain measure of privacy. Pride filled her as she rested her hand on his steady arm. Of all the ladies present, he had chosen her.
Darcy hated himself for what he had to do. It was entirely his fault that Elizabeth's night— a night he had planned specifically for her enjoyment— would be ruined. He had watched her all evening. Her smile reached her eyes; incandescence added to her beauty. He sighed. Just as he felt confident of her favor, he would have to shatter her favorable opinion of him.
He led her to the edge of the crowd, first securing her a glass of lemonade. It would raise too many eyebrows if they were seen disappearing off into the maze of paths through the garden, and he would do nothing to put her reputation in question— especially where he was concerned. She may never want to see him after she knew how dishonorably he had acted toward Mr. Bennet.
Her eyes searched his face for answers. He could delay no longer. She deserved the truth.
"Please know that over the past months, I was convinced of your knowledge of what I must reveal to you. Every detail of my proud indifference was penned in a letter I addressed to your mother and which was delivered on my behalf by your uncle, Mr. Phillips. Only tonight did I find out that Mrs. Bennet did not read it.”
“I am not surprised to hear that. Surely, Mr. Darcy, whatever you wrote about cannot be so grave.”
“I fear it might change your opinion of me. You see, I met your father at Rosings the week before the Meryton Assembly."
“You told me as much when we first met by the stables in Meryton.”
"He went to speak to Mr. Collins, who happens to be the rector at my aunt's estate. After spending the night at the Hunsford rectory, he was to leave the following morning— the same morning I would leave for Netherfield Park." He breathed deeply and continued. "Mr. Collins was as desirous of ridding himself of Mr. Bennet's company as Mr. Bennet was in leaving Mr. Collins. However, a wheel of his carriage was in need of repair. Knowing that I was to leave for Hertfordshire that morning, Mr. Collins came to consult with my aunt about the possibility of Mr. Bennet traveling with me in my carriage. I was in the room with my aunt when he suggested as much in a roundabout way."
Darcy clenched his fists together and willed himself to continue.
"I knew what he wanted, and yet I chose to ignore it. I did not want any company in my carriage— especially that of a stranger whom I considered beneath me. In short, I could not be bothered."
Elizabeth's eyebrows bunched together as she searched his face. "You refused to extend kindness to a stranger? That does not sound like you," she said in a whisper he heard as loudly as a shout over the music and chatter of the crowd.
"I am ashamed of how I acted."
She chewed on her bottom lip. "What else happened? Our coach did not return home until the day after Father arrived. He never told me what happened, but his good humor ran contrary to everything you just told me."
That took Darcy by surprise. He wanted to ask at that moment how that could have been so, but too much had happened between those two points that needed to be filled in. "It was just outside Hunsford that I saw your father. His face was a startling shade of purple. He was bent over with his hands on his knees, attempting to catch his breath. The coach lay at an appalling angle, having lost one of its wheels. How it did not topple over completely, I do not know, but I am grateful for Mr. Bennet's sake that it did not."
Elizabeth gasped, raising a hand up to cover her mouth. "He said nothing of an accident, though I noticed him limp. He said that the rain affected his joints and… I believed him." Her eyes brimmed, and she blinked furiously to hold the tears back. "What a horrible daughter I am," she said more to herself than to Darcy.
His chest constricted and his heart squeezed in his chest. He held his hands together before they could reach up to caress her cheeks. "Do not blame yourself when you are in no way at fault. My conscience has plagued me since I saw what my neglect had caused him to experience. He was fortunate not to suffer any great physical injury from the accident, but his aspect concerned me greatly. He clutched his chest and pulled at his neck cloth like it choked him. I pressed him to allow my aunt's physician to see him. I could see no external injury, but I was convinced that his heart had been affected greatly. He refused and, not feeling that I had the right to insist further, I offered to convey him to Longbourn— something I ought to have done to begin with. Mr. Bennet may not have died had I not worsened his condition by my thoughtless neglect."
Elizabeth closed her eyes and nodded her head as if pieces of the puzzle came together and she could see a more accurate picture. What did she think of him now that she knew?
One small tear trailed down her cheek and the brave lady attempted to smile at him. Dare he hope that she could forgive him?
"Lizzy! Lizzy!" a shrill voice cut through the tension surrounding them, turning several heads to look toward the originator of the cry.
Mrs. Bennet came running toward them. Not a ladylike walk, but the run of one unaccustomed to the exercise. Her eyes were wide with panic.
Elizabeth reached her arms out lest she be rolled over by her mother. "What is it?" she asked, placing her hands on Mrs. Bennet’s arms to still her.
"It is Lydia. We cannot find her anywhere! I suspect that she has been kidnapped!" Her voice carried over the crowd of dancers, and the number of people listening in on the scene before them grew exponentially. They whispered among themselves, yet not one individual offered help.
Indignant that they would gossip amongst themselves while doing nothing, Darcy stepped forward. "When did you last see her?"
"I left her in the dinner box to dance with Mr. Bingley when he asked. I daresay she was none too pleased that he did not prefer to ask her. I had assumed that someone else in our party would have asked her to dance. She is a pretty little thing and a very accomplished dancer."
Mr. Bingley caught up with Mrs. Bennet, bringing Mr. Carissimi and Richard along with him. Behind them still were Lady Rutledge and Miss Bingley. Every member of their party was present except for Miss Lydia. Darcy immediately scanned the dancers before them while he continued to ask questions. "Did none of you ask Miss Lydia to dance?"
Richard said, "I danced with Lady Rutledge."
Mr. Carissimi said, "I asked Miss Bingley for a dance after Miss Lydia refused me. At the time, I thought it was her way of showing me how much she disapproved of our decision to send her to a finishing school." Looking to Mrs. Bennet, he said, "I am so sorry, my dearest. I will do everything possible to find her and, with the help of our friends, she shall be brought home safely." He looked at Darcy, who only interrupted his survey of the crowd to nod to the gentleman.
Richard said, "We should organize a search of the park. Darcy, you take the south end with the entrance. I will take the north. Bingley the east, and Mr. Carissimi the west."
It was a good plan, and the gentlemen had already walked a few paces away when Elizabeth protested. "And where do you suggest we ladies look? I will not be left behind when my sister could be in danger." A tendril of hair hovered over her eye which she puffed away from her face with an exasperated breath. Her fists were balled up on her hips, and Darcy wanted to embrace her and kiss the top of her head so badly, he had to clasp his hands toge
ther to prevent himself from acting on his impulse.
"She is right, Colonel. I would much rather help than wait here twiddling my thumbs. However, the gardens are not a safe place for a lady to wander about alone at night," said Lady Rutledge.
Mrs. Bennet's eyes bugged out in her concern. "I will accompany Mr. Carissimi. I cannot remain idle while my girl is lost."
Mr. Carissimi whispered reassurances in her ear and patted her hand resting on his arm.
Before anyone else could make any suggestion otherwise, Lady Rutledge said, "I want to go with my nephew. You can arrange yourselves as you see fit." She looked between Richard and Darcy. "Caroline is wearing some jewelry, though, so might I suggest that whoever she accompanies should take extra care to protect her from harm?"
Richard stepped forward. "Nothing untoward will happen to Miss Bingley in my company. I will ensure her safety."
Not wanting to lose any more time, Darcy set off across the park with Elizabeth.
Elizabeth had to run to keep up with Mr. Darcy's long strides, but he did not slow his pace. She would have run anyway.
"Lydia!" Elizabeth called at the corner of every bend and turn in the paths they encountered. Her eyes searched every shadow and hiding place frantically.
Her head ached and she struggled for breath, but she pressed on. She fought to push her thoughts to the side. They would have to wait. Right now, her sister needed her. The gardens, though pleasurable, were not a good place for a young lady to wander through alone. Pickpockets and riffraff were known to lurk in the darkness.
After entering every nook and cranny in their path, they were no closer to finding Lydia than they had been before their search. Had anyone else in their party fared better?