by Meg Osborne
“Well, Miss Elizabeth?” her uncle prompted. “Am I to instruct Mr Darcy that you will accept this offer?” He paused. “He put it to me as your nearest male relative, but I could not make the decision on your behalf. Forgive me for coming to you first, but my sister...” He trailed off. Lizzy did not need any further explanation: Mrs Bennet was incapable of making such a decision, rendered so by grief and her own character. There could be no telling how she might react to such a suggestion if it was put to her as plainly as Mr Gardiner had posed it to Elizabeth.
“I will ask her,” she said. “Please, give me a day, and I will have your answer.”
“Very well.” Mr Gardiner smiled. “Do you see, my dear? Such despair over the future, when all that was needed was a little patience.”
He trotted off back to his study and left Elizabeth to ponder the matter alone. All that was needed was a little patience. Well, that could hardly be true, for she doubted Mr Darcy walked around London offering leases to every family of desperate strangers he met. No, this was motivated by something else, and she longed to know what. I do not suppose I ever shall, though. She could hardly march up to Mr Darcy and demand to know his reasons for acting in any particular way, nor did she think he would be able to answer her if she did. Perhaps I ought to view it as mere providence. It is about time our luck changed for the better!
Drawing a breath, she tucked her hand around the note that Mr Gardiner had brought to her, penned, she presumed, in Mr Darcy’s own hand, and containing a list of the particulars of the cottage he wished and the proposed terms for their lease. Lizzy was not well-versed in property, but Mr Gardiner had taken a thorough look at them and declared them to be quite fair. They might take the house for a year, with money enough to keep a modest home with one or two servants and be quite happy there. Lizzy knew that she would be happy there, in any case. There would be greenery, and peace and quiet. Bliss! Whether the depths of Derbyshire would prove so appealing to fun-loving Lydia or society-craving Mrs Bennet was another matter altogether. But then, Lizzy reflected, Derbyshire was hardly the middle of nowhere. It must be like Hertfordshire, she reasoned. They would have neighbours! They would have Mr Darcy for a neighbour and his sister. This struck Elizabeth as a rather more amiable a position than she had anticipated, and she was quite cheerful when she joined her mother in the sitting room, bent over her sewing and speaking her thoughts aloud to her sisters who were gathered around in various states of idleness and repose.
“Girls,” Lizzy said. “Mama, I have some news.”
Nobody moved, except Jane, who looked up with interest.
“Mama,” Lizzy spoke louder this time and, at last, Mrs Bennet laid her sewing aside and regarded her daughter keenly.
“Well, Elizabeth! You have commanded my full attention. Do not now keep me in suspense. What news do you wish to impart?”
Lizzy’s hand folded over Mr Darcy’s note and she drew unexpected strength from it. When she spoke again her voice was calm, clear, indicating her own approval for the wisdom of this plan and her willingness to consider any question Mrs Bennet might think to put to her as best she could.
“Uncle Gardiner came to me this morning with a proposal for our future living. It comes from quite an unexpected quarter.” She darted a glance towards Jane. “I can only think that it is down to Mr Darcy’s friendship with Mr Bingley, and his shared history with our aunt that he thinks to make such an offer...”
“Mr Darcy?” Mrs Bennet glanced shrewdly at her daughter. “You cannot mean to tell me...”
“No!” Lizzy reached the conclusion before her mother had a chance to say it and hurried to dismiss it. “Mama! Please, we hardly met but twice, and I do wish your thoughts would not always turn to matrimony when we have far more important things to consider.”
Mrs Bennet huffed, and readied herself to say that she did not think there were many things more important than marriage to consider at any point in time, their present circumstances being no barrier to affection in a truly worthy suitor, but before she could speak any of these thoughts aloud, Lizzy had unfolded Mr Darcy’s note and laid it carefully on her mother’s knee.
“Mr Darcy has a cottage, Mama, and he invites us to live in it, should we wish to. The lease terms are favourable, or so Uncle thinks, and whilst the house is not large it should be ample enough that we all might stay there together quite happily for a year or more.” She drew a breath, knowing this next to be the largest possible stumbling block. “It is in Derbyshire, Mama, in the reaches of Mr Darcy’s estate at Pemberley. I - why, Mama! Whatever is the matter?”
Lizzy dropped to her knees, concerned by the explosive sobs that rocked Mrs Bennet’s broad shoulders. She clutched the note to her face, fat tears blurring the ink so that, had Lizzy not managed quickly to extract the note and smooth it out again to dry it would have been rendered utterly unreadable.
“What an angel that man must be!” Mrs Bennet said when she had, at last, got enough breath to speak. “An angel sent to watch over us!”
“An angel with a bad temper,” Lydia whispered, from her corner. “And a scowl! Who knew such a thing existed.”
Lizzy exchanged a glance with Jane and saw her own relief reflected in her sister’s features.
“I shall tell Uncle we shall take it, then?” she asked, looking to her mother for confirmation. “You wish to move to Derbyshire?”
“I do,” Mrs Bennet said, on the verge of tears once more. “If I may keep my girls with me, I would move to the ends of the earth!”
Chapter Nine
“But, Lizzy, Derbyshire is so far away!” Mrs Bennet wailed. “I had no idea we would be leaving everything and everybody we know behind!”
Elizabeth smiled at her mother, her patience already wearing thin.
“But, Mama, you knew this would happen when you agreed to take Mr Darcy up on his offer.”
“Yes, but...but...it is so far away!”
Lizzy sighed. They had been having this conversation, or some variation of it, for the past three days. There had been a short period of felicity at home where all was well and Mrs Bennet could scarcely mention the name Mr Darcy without attaching the epithet that wonderful man directly after it. As the prospective date of their relocation loomed closer, however, their true state of affairs seemed to dawn ever more strongly on Mrs Bennet, and she grew less and less content with the plan.
“We shall all be together, Mama,” Elizabeth said, philosophically. “And we could hardly plan to stay here forever.”
“And in any case, it is only for a year!” Kitty piped up. Elizabeth shot her sister a grateful glance. While Lydia was poised to work on Mrs Bennet’s anxieties about moving - arguably because she would much prefer for them to remain in London - Kitty had become an unexpected proponent of the plan to move north, and had become quite creative in trotting out suggestions of ways in which their relocation might benefit Mrs Bennet individually and the family as a whole.
“Where is Jane?” Mrs Bennet murmured, determined to find something to weep over and finding no sympathy over her repeated complaints about their planned removal turned instead to another topic that was one of her favourites: that any one of her daughters not be immediately within sight, should she have need of them.
“She is walking with Miss Bingley,” Lizzy said, calmly sorting some books into those she would take with her and those that would be packed up and sent on afterwards. Mrs Gardiner had already agreed to send their things on and was a support to Elizabeth in every way her own mother was a hindrance.
“Oh, yes, Miss Bingley! And that dear Mr Bingley! We must leave all our new friends behind,” Mrs Bennet sobbed. “And I did so think he might have some affections for Jane...why, it will all come to nought if we are sent away!”
“We are not sent anywhere, Mama, we are removing of our own volition.” Lizzy’s words came out a little sharper than she intended and she took a breath, willing her voice to remain calm and soothing, for her nerves could not withstand ano
ther assault by her emotional mother. “And it is not as if anything was even close to being agreed between Jane and Mr Bingley. They might write, after all, and as he is friends with Mr Darcy who knows but that he and his sister might not find their way northwards for Christmas?”
This last was a fabrication: Lizzy had no notion of any such plan being discussed between the gentlemen, and employing what little she knew of Caroline Bingley she rather presumed brother and sister would remain in London fort he festive season. Yet there was the matter of Mr Darcy. The friendship between the two gentlemen was apparent, and Lizzy wagered that Miss Bingley’s own affections were not immune to the brooding charm of Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy. Nor to his fortune. Still, this idea was considered a very good one by Mrs Bennet and quite lifted her spirits so that she began to chatter happily about the adventures her daughters might undertake in Derbyshire, the balls Mr Darcy might host at his estate and the introductions they might secure as his guests.
“Tenants, Mama,” Lizzy reminded her, wearily. “We are not his guests, nor even his friends. It is a financial agreement between us.”
“Financial!” Mrs Bennet scoffed. “If that was all that concerned Mr Darcy I dare say he need not have come all the way to London to find tenants. No, I think we must be grateful for how well he thinks of us. That is surely Mr Bingley’s doing, for he was immediately taken with Jane and wishes to help us in some way without being seen to help us.” She clasped her hands together in rapture. “It is so romantic!”
Her mother’s determination to trace the thread of romance in every sensible interaction struck Lizzy as immensely silly and just at that moment, she felt sure she could not tolerate it without saying something that would be taken for a slight. Bidding her mother and sister a temporary goodbye, she scooped up her books, muttered something about speaking to Aunt Gardiner, and fled from the room, seeking sanctuary in the chamber she shared with Jane. The room was empty at present, and instead of packing, as had been her intent, she wandered listlessly towards the window, staring out into the street and watching the tableau of London society playing out before her eyes. There would be no such hustle and bustle in Derbyshire, but surely that would be no bad thing. She was aching for peace and quiet and time spent out of doors.
Not for the first time she began to wonder what their new home would be like. Mr Darcy had sent particulars to Mr Gardiner, who had taken far more time than was necessary in describing them to his family so that Lizzy had constructed a fairly sensible picture of the small cottage they would be renting. It was smaller than Longbourn but larger than any they had been able to consider securing in London. They would be permitted a servant or two, but their life would be a quiet one. Lizzy hoped it would not be unduly dull to her sisters or mother. Although Mrs Bennet seemed too quick to find fault at separating Jane from a potential match with Mr Bingley, this was the only sticking point that Lizzy could see. She had quizzed her sister, quietly, when the two lay alone in their room listening to the sounds of the sleeping house, if she truly minded going north, and Jane’s answer had been enigmatic at best. It is what is open to us, Lizzy, and will ensure we stay together. How could I mind it? She knew her sister well enough, though, to sense that at least some small part of her did mind it, very much. If only it were Mr Bingley and not Mr Darcy who was leasing them this property! Then it would be quite natural for he and Jane to be found together, and who knew, there might be a wedding to plan before the year was out! As it was, even if by some miracle Mr Bingley found his way north for Christmas, what was to say he would not have lost his heart to another young lady in the interim? The poets might proclaim that absence made the heart grow fonder, but pragmatic Elizabeth could not help but feel the opposite to be true.
“I HAVE NOT OFTEN WALKED in this part of London, Miss Bennet, and yet I find it quite charming!”
Charles Bingley beamed, admiring their surroundings as they walked.
Caroline rolled her eyes but was surprised to note that Jane Bennet’s response, when it came, was rather less enthusiastic than Charles’. She felt a rare flash of admiration for the beauty who had captured her brother’s heart so quickly and completely. She was not a fool, then, that was some small mercy. Indeed, it would take a fellow utterly blinded by his affection for the company he walked in to find anything particularly charming about this particular street, which was dominated by tall buildings and dotted with people the likes of whom Caroline could not abide being pressed to associate with. Cheapside. She turned her nose up at the thought that of all the elegant, available ladies in London her brother was fast forming an attachment to one who resided in Cheapside. Not even that! Jane Bennet was imposing on the charity of her wider family. She was, as were all four of her sisters and the mother who had only been recently met and even more quickly disliked, virtually homeless. Caroline shuddered.
“Oh, Miss Bingley, are you cold?” Jane asked, reaching for her own wrap and offering it to her friend without a second thought. Caroline hesitated, knowing she could not refuse such a gesture without appearing incredibly rude, and also, somehow touched that this young lady who was still almost a stranger to her could be so instinctively nice. The lack of charity in Caroline’s own thoughts came back to taunt her, and with a stiff smile and a murmured thank you, she accepted the wrap, winding it loosely about her shoulders and feeling more warmed than she ought to by the thin woollen cloth.
“Have you visited many other parts of London, Miss Bennet?” Charles asked, eager to interpose himself into the conversation once more, but this time at least deigning to draw his sister in a well. “Caroline is very fond of the assembly rooms, for they can be full of interesting conversation even on days when there are no assemblies planned.” He smiled. “Or at least so I am told.”
“You need not act as if you have never accompanied me there, Charles.” Caroline bristled, well aware that her brother was intending to put forward a good show for his new friend, but equally eager, in that moment, to redress the balance and remind her brother that she, who knew him a good deal than Miss Bennet, was there and able to voice her own opinions just as freely. A malicious thought sliced through her and she had voiced it before she even had time to fully consider its impact. “In fact, I recall your eagerness to visit them on many days such as today when word reached your ear that Louisa Asquith might be present...”
The tips of Charles’ ears reddened, and Jane smiled, although Caroline fancied the expression was not quite as genuine as it had been previously. She felt a flood of guilt, wondering what had possessed her to raise such a memory, either to embarrass her brother or to dive a wedge between the very fledgeling relationship developing between him and her new friend. Why did she always feel such impulse to intervene when she felt that someone else was within reach of happiness, and especially a happiness she herself craved? And, when tempted, why did she consistently choose to act?
“I am not familiar with Miss Asquith. Is she a friend of yours?” Jane asked, her sweet voice attempting to smooth over the awkward silence that had descended on the trio.
“A friend of mine, really,” Caroline said, feeling that she must act to undo the damage her sly words had caused, and seeking to make amends with her brother for the silent slight she had shown him. “Charles is merely amiable enough to tolerate her.” She leaned closer to Jane, her words a whisper. “She is not at all clever, you know, and says the most atrocious things! But one must make an effort to be kind and courteous to all, even to those one would perhaps not choose as friends.” She felt a rush of affection, then, for the young lady who walked beside her, whose own words, when offered, had always been kind, interesting and intelligent. That Jane Bennet was clever as well as beautiful was an irritant to Caroline at first, but when matched with such a sweet temper she rather thought that now she might enjoy having such a young lady for a friend, regardless of Charles’ feelings on the matter. She looped her hand through the crook of Jane’s elbow, as she had often seen young ladies do who were particularly fo
nd friends. She had never possessed so amiable an acquaintance as she would ever wish to walk so, and in fact, had often sneered at young ladies who seemed so determined to exhibit their affections so freely as being rather silly. To her surprise, then, she felt warmed by this intimate posture and was touched when Jane turned to her, confidingly, and spoke again.
“You must think me dreadfully strange, Miss Bingley, to say I have few friends beyond my sisters, but I confess we have not often been afforded opportunity to socialise during our stay in London, and so I am quite ignorant of people!” She sighed, and when she continued, her voice had taken on a melancholy air. “Alas, we shall be afforded even less opportunity in the future, for we are to remove to the countryside.”
“The countryside?” This was news, indeed, and whilst Caroline’s first instinct was to sniff out any gossip, her heart hammered a little faster in her chest at the thought of losing this, her newest, perhaps her only, friend. “Where?” she demanded. “When?”
“Very soon. Before the week is out, I believe.” Jane turned to Mr Bingley. “It is all an idea of your friend, Mr Darcy, and we are so grateful to him for his generosity!”
“Oh?” Caroline’s voice hardened. That Mr Darcy would show generosity to a family in need ought not to surprise her, for was he not the most amiable creature she had ever laid eyes on? And wealthy, too, it was not as if his pocket-book could not stretch to permit a little charity. Yet the notion of him offering such assistance to the Bennet family rankled a little in a way Caroline did not like to fully acknowledge. She recalled the way, at the assembly, that Mr Darcy had invited Eliza Bennet to dance, and how well they had looked together. She blinked, forcing the image from her mind, and bid Jane to tell her more.