by Meg Osborne
Chapter Fourteen
“I merely said that I was not enjoying Mrs Radcliffe at present, Lizzy, not that I would abandon her altogether!” Mrs Bennet snatched up her book, rescuing it from Elizabeth’s eager hands, for her daughter was filling a basket of volumes to return to the library at Pemberley, and tidying their parlour while she did so. Mrs Bennet made a few other rescues in quick succession, of her letters, of a news-sheet Lydia had brought her back from town, of several ribbons and notions that she had kept for a purpose and would prefer to have in her lap than in Elizabeth’s waste-basket.
“Lizzy, sit down, would you?” Mrs Bennet said, after a moment or two more. “You exhaust me with your fussing.”
Elizabeth bristled at this criticism, feeling that it was one better levied at her mother. She straightened a few more items and then flopped unceremoniously onto the sofa.
“Where are the girls?”
“Kitty and Lydia are in town, and have taken Jane with them.” Mrs Bennet’s voice was muffled as she shuffled her frame into a more comfortable position. “I offered to go, too, but as they wished to walk...” She sighed. “And Mary...well heaven knows where Mary has got to!” She shook her head as if despairing of her middle daughter ever being anywhere useful.
Lizzy sighed. If Jane were gone with Kitty and Lydia it would be hours before their return. And even Mary must be fully occupied out of the house. Lizzy could scarcely leave her mother alone, however much she ached for some activity. The clock on their mantel ticked loudly and, it seemed to Lizzy, slowly. The day stretched on before her interminably and she turned to her basket of books, wondering if she might find one within that would stand a second reading, if only to hasten the hours.
Suddenly, Mrs Bennet, who had been fully occupied in perusing her news-sheet let out a giggle. Lizzy ignored it, used to her mother’s ways, and waited for the excitable repetition of whatever joke or piece of gossip had tickled Mrs Bennet’s fancy that moment. It did not come, and when her mother laughed a second time, Lizzy sat up.
“Whatever is the matter, Mama?”
“Look!” Mrs Bennet hissed, pointing towards the window. She seemed to have lost two decades from her age and was a young girl once more. “Is that not Mr Darcy pacing back and forth outside our window?” She turned to Lizzy, incredulously. “Whatever do you think he is doing?”
Lizzy turned, and was surprised to see a tall figure walk first one way, then that, casting a shadow over their window. It could not have been any other than Fitzwilliam Darcy, yet she had never yet seen him so agitated without purpose. She fancied his lips moved as he walked as if he were repeating something to himself, and at last, she could bear it no more and hauled herself to her feet.
“Lizzy!” Mrs Bennet cautioned. “What are you doing?”
“I am going to inquire whether he is alright,” Lizzy said, calmly. “And perhaps invite him to join us for tea.”
This last provoked a state of immense agitation in her mother, who leapt to her feet and began performing such repairs to her toilet as if Mr Darcy were someone of great significance come to call.
“You are as beautiful as ever, Mama,” Lizzy called over her shoulder, drily. “So do not fret.” She reached the window and rapped smartly upon it, the noise causing the pacing figure to flinch and stop suddenly, and turn towards the window. As Elizabeth waved, his frown darkened, and she pointed towards the door, walking over to open it as he drew near.
“Good morning!”
“Good morning.” His response was gruff, but she was hardly unused to that. “My mother wondered if you would care to take tea with us, Mr Darcy.” Her lips quirked. “That is, unless you are otherwise occupied with some important business.”
“Business?” Mr Darcy hesitated. “I - well, I might spare a quarter hour, Miss Elizabeth. Thank you.”
Lizzy held open the door and he had barely crossed the threshold when Mrs Bennet’s voice floated down the corridor.
“Come in, Mr Darcy! Come in!” A laugh. “We are always so delighted to see you. Tell me, how is your sister?”
Mr Darcy paused, evidently unsure whether to shout back a response or be thought rude by not offering one at all. He hurried down the corridor, speaking as he went, so as to offend no-one and accomplishing a response without the need to raise his voice.
“She is well, Mrs Bennet, thank you. Or at least she was when last I saw her. She has been spirited away to the music room with Miss Mary, I believe, for I detected two voices as well as two sets of hands on the piano keys.” He smiled, faintly, and Elizabeth thought how much the expression improved his countenance when it was not accompanied by his perpetual scowl. That, too, she had seen less of lately, and it was on the tip of her tongue to enquire after his own health, but fortunately, her mother beat her to it.
“And you, Mr Darcy,” Mrs Bennet said, folding her hands over her ample midsection and batting her eyelashes at him. “How do you fare?”
“Oh, very well, thank you. Your health has recovered, I hope?”
This mutual enquiry into one another’s wellbeing, and that of every other person known to either Mrs Bennet or Mr Darcy struck Elizabeth as amusing, and she sought to disguise her laughter in a cough, which fooled nobody but served to draw their conversation to a close. In the absence of topic, the small party sat in awkward silence for what felt like a long time, before Mr Darcy stood.
“Well, I shall not keep you from your tasks. Good day, ladies.”
“Oh, you need not leave, Mr Darcy!” Mrs Bennet was on her feet in an instant, more energised than Elizabeth had seen her in days. “Stay! We have not yet had tea.”
“No, but I recall some jobs I have yet to see to, and I am afraid I must not tarry any longer without seeing to them.” Mr Darcy cleared his throat. “Although I did wish to invite you - that is, Georgiana wished me to invite - would you, your whole family, I mean, would you care to join us for dinner one evening this week?”
He looked so pained at the task of asking that Elizabeth took pity on him, answering almost immediately in the affirmative.
“That is kind of you, Mr Darcy. This evening? Or tomorrow?”
“This evening.” A rare smile lit up his dark features, and Lizzy found herself unable to look away from the piercing eyes that met hers.
Mrs Bennet queried the time they should arrive, and her voice seemed to remind Mr Darcy that he and Elizabeth were not alone. He nodded, confirming once again that he would see them later, and hurried out of the cottage and away.
“Poor Mr Darcy!” Elizabeth laughed. “He seemed so unlike himself. I do hope nothing is the matter.”
Her mother fixed her with a knowing look, but would not be drawn on what it was she knew, instead bidding Elizabeth leave her to get reacquainted with Mrs Radcliffe and entertain herself with writing letters, for had that not been her intent for the morning? Thus dismissed, Lizzy hurried up to her room, pausing only to see their servant, who clutched a note that was not addressed to her, but Jane.
“I shall see that she gets it,” she promised, taking the letter with her, and examining the handwriting carefully. It took her a moment to place it, but soon she recognised the careful, elegant script of Caroline Bingley. When she had first written to Jane, both sisters had been surprised, but since that first letter quite a flurry of letters had flown between London and Derbyshire, and the two young ladies were well on the way to forming a friendship. Lizzy felt a tiny flare of jealousy at Jane’s divided affections, but then recalled that at least part of this goodwill must spring from knowing Caroline’s closest relation was her brother, and any mention of him was bound to put her sister into the very best of moods. Hugging the letter to her breast, Lizzy took the stairs two at a time, humming a tuneless but happy melody as she settled to her work.
“WHAT IS THE NEWS FROM London?”
Elizabeth had waited half the afternoon before raising this question with her sister and quite prided herself on her practised disinterest. She had been desperate to
know the details of Caroline Bingley’s letter, and what it might mean for them, and Jane in particular, but she wished to allow her sister her secrets, if she chose to keep them. She valued keeping her own feelings close to her chest and would not force her sister into unwished for intimacies, but by evening she could bear it no longer and made the calmest enquiry she could manage.
“Oh, a succession of busy nothings!” Jane’s attention was fixed on her reflection in the mirror, as she completed her preparations for their evening at Pemberley.
Lizzy nodded, but inwardly she was screaming. How could Jane play so coy, when she had to be aware of how much Lizzy longed to read Caroline’s missives for herself, to know what details the two ladies discussed in their letters!
“Is Miss Bingley well? And how is her brother?”
This, at last, provoked a reaction, and Lizzy was a trifle mollified to see two bright spots of colour bloom in Jane’s cheeks.
“They are both well,” she said, smiling at her reflection. “Although my correspondence is with Miss Bingley, she is so often in the company of her brother that she must mention him on occasion.” She paused, before turning to regard Elizabeth directly.
“In fact, it seems that they may soon be joining Mr Darcy at Pemberley!”
“Oh?” This news had come as a surprise to Elizabeth. She had fallen, almost unconsciously, into the habit of passing the time of day with Mr Darcy whenever their paths crossed, which, by chance, was often, and he had not mentioned any planned visitors. Lizzy was hurt again, wondering if the picture she had begun to conjure of their landlord was entirely accurate. Mr Darcy was still stoical and reserved, but a little of his veneer had chipped away with each mile they had walked together, and she fancied she knew him better now than she had in London. She would even admit, in the safety of her own mind, that she liked him, although such an admission would remain her own closely guarded secret until she could be sure of his own feelings. He certainly never seemed disappointed to see her and was always the first to offer to “walk a step in her company”, speaking of his plans for the day, and explaining in detail to her the improvements that were being made to his property. He had never yet mentioned that Mr Bingley or his sister planned to be Derbyshire, however, and she wondered if it had been a conscious admission on his part, or mere evidence that he did not speak as freely to her as she had believed. With effort, she rearranged the pout that had descended on her full lips into a dry smile and nodded at her sister, encouraging her to continue with her news.
“Mr Bingley has business concerns in the north, it seems, and as he and Mr Darcy are great friends it is entirely proper that they call on him at his estate.” She hesitated. “Caroline, Miss Bingley, that is, is eager to see us again, too.”
“Eager to see you again, I don’t doubt.” Lizzy laughed. “I do not believe Miss Caroline Bingley is even remotely interested in seeing me again. In fact, I wager the opposite. She is pitched to dislike me, I fear.” Which is no great shame to me, she reasoned in silence, not speaking her words aloud for fear her sister would be disappointed in them. For she is hardly a lady with whom I wish to cultivate a friendship!
“On the contrary, Lizzy! You judge her too harshly. Caroline mentions you often, and is always eager to hear of your health and wellbeing.”
“Is she, indeed?” Lizzy snorted, then, seeing Jane was entirely in earnest, attempted a smile. “Well, then I shall consider myself corrected. I thought Caroline Bingley affectionate to only one member of this family, and as you are the most eminently likeable of all of us it could not be anyone but you, Jane dear. But if she truly enquires after my own health - and in genuine interest, rather than for the sake of gossip, then I am fully prepared to resign my opinion of her and try again.” Her smile was genuine this time, and she made a final assessment of her reflection in the looking glass, peering over Jane’s shoulder to ensure that she was entirely respectable, and although not quite as pretty as her sister, certainly striking in her own way. “You know I am quick to form judgments, but I like to think myself equally quick to repent of them when they are proven wanting.” She thought of another person who she had assumed far too arrogant and proud to ever take notice of their own penniless family’s plight, and her reflection must have somehow been evidenced in her features, for it was Jane’s turn to laugh, saucily, and enquire, apropos of nothing, as to Mr Darcy’s health that afternoon.
“He is well,” Lizzy said, guardedly. “He is always well.” She shook her head, agitated. “I do not know why you must ask me so specifically as to his wellbeing, for Mama told you he called at the house and spoke to her just as much as he did me.”
“Is that so?”
“Indeed, it is so!” Lizzy was exasperated now, and threw a stray hair ribbon at her sister, who shrieked with amusement. “Now, do not tease me, Jane, or I shall begin to ask how many mentions of Mr Bingley were present in your letter, to garner such detail by reply in Miss Bingley’s. Let’s go and meet the others, for Mary has been ready above a quarter-hour and I am sure Mama will need our help in prising Lydia from the looking-glass...”
She pulled Jane after her, and the two girls hurried down the stairs, but Lizzy’s countenance was rather more flushed than it perhaps ought to be, on account of the temperature, and she might have been forced to put the blame for her pink cheeks on the implications of her sister’s teasing, had anybody pressed her own it.
Chapter Fifteen
When their guests arrived, Darcy was standing by the crackling fire in the large sitting room that Pemberley boasted. Whilst he was eager to welcome his guests, he allowed Georgiana to play hostess and was touched to see the enthusiasm with which she ushered the Bennet family into the room, laughing and chatting merrily with each of the sisters in turn, and often two at once. He had not realised how much his younger sister ached for companionship before these young ladies arrived on their doorstep, and now he was grateful to whatever scheme of providence had encouraged him to invite them in the first place. This must have been the reason, the cause that outstripped logic, and made him offer the empty cottage to a family full of strangers.
Although he was on the outside of the circle, he was happy, content to watch the young ladies talk and laugh together. When he heard his own name, he started, glancing up in surprise.
“And how are you this evening, Mr Darcy?”
It was Jane who spoke, her sweet voice encouraging him to answer.
“I am well, Miss Bennet.” He cleared his throat, and set his drink down, surprisingly no longer needing its comforting weight in his hand. “How was your visit to town?”
“Enjoyable.” She smiled. “Although I wager my sisters would be more eager to tell you all that we did.”
This invitation was all that Catherine and Lydia required, for they launched into a bickered account of their day, naming people who bore only passing familiarity to Darcy but who had clearly made a great impact on the excitable young ladies.
“What a pity we could not encourage Georgiana to accompany us!” Lydia asked, with a sly smile aimed at his sister. “For I dearly wished to introduce her to Mr Newmarket...”
This caused Darcy to straighten, but when he looked at his sister, curious as to whether this mention would require further intervention on his part, he was pleased to see an ironical smile on her face. Her friends teased her, but she was not nursing any secret affection. He let out a sigh of relief.
“I think my sister is teasing you as ably as she is teasing Miss Georgiana!” Elizabeth Bennet remarked, drawing close enough to him that they might speak without risking being overheard. “Admit that you were already halfway towards the door to, en route to discovering this Mr Newmarket and demanding what his intentions were with your sister!”
Darcy screwed up his face, poised to deny the accusation, but when he saw the sparkle in Elizabeth’s eyes, he laughed.
“You know me well, Miss Elizabeth.”
He shook his head, surprised at how quickly the words had come
and, on reflection, how true he found them to be. He had never considered it possible that another person know him well enough to joke in this manner and win his affection, rather than his irritation, yet somehow the young woman before him had done it.
“We have walked together often enough that I should hope to know you a little!” she said.
“You regret this?” Darcy willed his voice not to betray the quaver he felt in his heart. “I have monopolised the time you would rather spend walking alone...”
“No!” Elizabeth’s dismissal came quickly, enough that it appeared to startle her in saying it as much as it did him in hearing. She coloured, and took a step away from him, towards the window. “It is warm here by the fire. Excuse me, Mr Darcy.”
He nodded and allowed her to walk away. It took courage he had not been aware he possessed not to follow her, nor to watch her leave. Instead, he turned his attention back to the circle of young ladies and noticed Mrs Bennet observing him carefully, with interest in her pale eyes. He cleared his throat, uncomfortable under her scrutiny, and addressed his sister.