by Jennifer Joy
"That proves how ignorant you are, young man," said Lord Harvisham.
Feeling his hackles rise, Darcy shoved his plate away only to have Lord Harvisham shove it back into place.
"Eat," he said, tapping Darcy's plate and ordering him about like he was no bigger than a schoolboy.
Tanner and Richard knew better than to laugh, but they had great difficulty swallowing the lumps in their mouths. The louts.
Jabbing at a cube of meat, Darcy popped it into his mouth. The beef was so tender, it melted on his tongue and, though he would never admit as much to the other gentlemen in the room, it tasted delicious. His stomach rumbled at the offering, telling him how hungry he had been.
He was chewing his next bite when Lord Harvisham nodded at him in approval. "Never was a fight nor a fair lady won on an empty stomach."
The nourishment fed Darcy's valor. "Tell me, if you are truly more knowledgeable in the subject, how I am wrong to court Miss Elizabeth by discovering who murdered Mrs. Bennet."
Lord Harvisham laughed a deep, growly bark. "If I am knowledgeable on the subject of women? Ha! Never would I presume such wisdom, my boy. I do, however, know more than you do, and so I will do my best to give your question a worthy answer."
Richard leaned forward in his chair, intent on Lord Harvisham's reply. Tanner, on the other hand, gave more attention to his stew.
Taking a long draught of his ale, Lord Harvisham cleared his throat. "There is one thing you must understand, Darcy. No matter how well you feel you know your young miss, you know nothing. What she feels and what she chooses to reveal to you are often two conflicting extremes."
"Miss Elizabeth never hides her emotions," Darcy said with pride. The earl had been a widower too long. His memory failed him.
Lord Harvisham shook his head in pity. "You know nothing. Accept it and you will add to the peace in your household. Never assume when she — and any other lady for that matter — wishes for you to ask. It may be that you have read her signs correctly, but many times you will be wrong and all she needed was for you to take the time to listen to her concerns. Oftentimes, that is enough."
"But that solves nothing," countered Darcy.
"My wife never came to me with a problem she was incapable of solving better than me. In my experience, she merely needed me to listen to her idea to convince herself of its worth. If I listened to her, giving her the attention she deserved and dignifying her, she would even credit me for taking care of what had robbed her of sleep when it was not me at all. It was all her." He smiled to himself, rubbing his palm across his chest. "My, how I miss her," he whispered.
Touched as he was by Lord Harvisham's undying love for his wife, there was a gaping hole in his reasoning. "How is it just for you to get the credit for solving a problem when you did nothing to solve it? I fear I would find such praise undeserving and patronizing."
Richard said, "I would like very much to always be seen as a hero in the eyes of my future wife. If that is all it takes — care and a listening ear — well, then, I shall become the best listener in England for the lady with whom I choose to share my life."
Darcy had done what he humanly could to make Elizabeth’s life easier, and what had it earned him? Her derision. "But it is nonsensical. Why would an intelligent woman give credit where it is not due? I should rather earn her respect and love by acting to prove how important she is to me." It had not worked thus far, but he was a persistent fellow.
"And you should continue to do that, of course," said Lord Harvisham. "Not a day should go by without some display of your continued affection. A good marriage needs constant attention. However, your wife will see your love proved in ways you could never imagine. I shall never forget the time I surprised my Maggie with a diamond necklace. It was a work of art with amethyst gems inlaid in a floral pattern I knew she would adore. She thought they were lovely, and she expressed her gratitude in a manner most pleasing to me. However, later that week, our youngest boy fell ill. It was late at night and the weather was as bad as it was the night you came to me. I could not send a servant when my horse was the fastest in the stable, so I rode to fetch the doctor. My efforts were rewarded for weeks afterward — something the expensive jewelry never managed.” He shook his head as if he still could not comprehend it fully.
Nor did Darcy. "You merely did what you had to do. How can that possibly compare to a gift that proves you wished to please her?" His confidence in the gift he had brought Elizabeth from London wavered. What if she did not understand its value?
Tanner swallowed his last bite, pounding the table with his large fist. "And that, gentlemen, is why I would much rather remain unattached. Women are impossible. Just when you think you understand them, they change! And they always marry a man with the intention of “improving” him … as if we are as inconstant as they are."
“Admit it, Tanner. The world would be a rather drab place without the color women add to it,” Richard said, swirling the ale in his tankard.
"Other than my saint of a mother, the only color I manage to provoke in a woman is red. If happy marriages could be made by two people set in opposition to each other, then I might consider it. But I am too set in my ways to allow some female to disrupt my life." Tanner nodded his head in finality, and it occurred to Darcy that Tanner’s bold, determined statements destined him to be the next to fall. That Richard had already met with some success in the marriage front was evident from his constant disappearances (to Lucas Lodge, Darcy suspected).
"Sounds lively," Richard said, saluting Tanner.
Lord Harvisham chuckled. "You are in for a rough fall, dear sir, if your time should ever come. My wife and I rarely saw eye to eye. She was much more refined than I have ever been, or could be. We had “lively” discussions — heated disputes, you might call them — oh, but when we made peace …" Lord Harvisham let his words drift off to haunt Darcy's imagination. He was not so naive he did not comprehend the gentleman's meaning.
Richard sighed.
Darcy did not know what to think. He had insight enough to recognize the wisdom in the earl's words, but Darcy was unaccustomed to needing correction. It made him doubt what he had been so certain about moments ago. He had decided to present his gift to Elizabeth, allowing his offering to smooth over whatever faults she accused him of until he could convince her to marry him. Now, it was not enough. In fact, it would probably make her angry. He would just have to continue to carry it in his pocket as he had been.
Lord Harvisham spoke. "Miss Elizabeth is an independent sort of young lady. I do not know her well, but I admire her strength. If you win her loyalty, you will have won a gift with more value than all the treasure ever to pass through the hand of a man. Do not let it go to waste as your aunt did. Do not allow pride to steal away the greatest blessing known to man."
"Greatest blessing?" asked Tanner.
"The love of a good woman," Lord Harvisham clarified in a firm voice brooking no argument. Tanner took his hint and said nothing more, though it was clear he disagreed with every twitch of his jaw.
Silence fell over them. Richard looked up at the ceiling with a lovelorn grin on his face. Perhaps he would beat Bingley to the altar after all. Richard had always been quick to act once he made a decision. It had served him well in the army, and Darcy had no doubt it would serve him well on the home front.
Lord Harvisham's eyes lowered as he undoubtedly brought his wife back from his memories, giving him a warm smile and a contented look Darcy craved for himself.
Tanner looked around at them as if they were the worst fools. Throwing his arms up into the air, he scraped his chair back against the wood planks to stand. "You are pathetic — the lot of you. I am going back to the taproom. The air has grown too heavy for me here."
Darcy watched him leave, but he did not follow. He needed a new plan.
Mrs. Molly came in, loading her arms with their empty dishes. "Mr. Bingley is here, Mr. Darcy."
"And what of it?" he asked, biting his
tongue at the harshness in his tone. If Bingley came into the village in search of him, it could only mean he bore bad news.
She must have become accustomed to Tanner's blunt manners, for Mrs. Molly continued cleaning off the table, wiping it down with a clean rag while balancing the dishes on a platter propped on her hip without pause. "He looks dreadful. Pardon me for intruding, please, but it would be a kindness for you to see to your friend instead of leaving him in Mr. Tanner's hands."
True.
"I have some notes to make in my room," said Lord Harvisham. "Have a good afternoon, gentlemen, and thank you for your assistance. If anything remarkable happens, I will inform you directly."
Richard stood, nearly toppling the chair over in his haste. "I have an important call to make."
"I bet you do, young man." Lord Harvisham smacked him on the back as they turned toward the door.
Darcy followed them out to the taproom, pausing to calm himself on contemplating Bingley. His hair stood on end from his incessant tugging. His neck cloth, the bane of Bingley's valet's existence, hung limply to one side.
"Darcy, there you are! I do not know what to do. I need to see her; to know she is well. But my sisters insist I ought not call while Miss Bennet is in mourning. They cannot understand I shall go mad unless I see her.”
He could have pointed out that Bingley had seen Miss Bennet the previous day, but he did not. Empathizing with the desperation in Bingley’s tone, Darcy clapped his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I will go with you.” He had no plan, but he would test Lord Harvisham’s theory. He would try anything to ease Elizabeth’s pain and mend her heart. If that meant admitting to an error he was unaware of having committed, so be it.
Chapter 22
Giggles and yelps greeted Darcy as he and Bingley neared Longbourn. Miss Kitty and Miss Lydia ran around the house chasing a black and white bolt of lightning. The puppy darted between the horses, spooking them and nearly trampling the source of the mischief under their hooves.
"Chloe! Come here, you naughty beast!" shouted Miss Lydia, clutching her sides and doubling over in laughter. She wore a black gown as she had since Mrs. Bennet’s death, but her semblance was greatly improved.
Calling the little ball of fur a “beast” was, perhaps, a touch exaggerated, but Miss Lydia was given to dramatics. It soothed Darcy’s heart to see happiness at Longbourn.
Darcy hopped down from the saddle and reached out with his long arms to scoop up Chloe, who licked the air in her glee and squirmed to be let down so that she might run her new playmates all over Hertfordshire. Darcy ruffled the tuft of fur between her ears and handed her over to Miss Lydia, who showered the puppy with kisses.
"Thank you, Mr. Darcy. I do not know what I would do if Chloe had got away from me or came to any harm." In a tone similar to one of Mrs. Bennet's superficial scoldings, she said, "Bad Chloe. You really must take more care around the horses. Never run away from me again or I shall have to punish you properly."
To Miss Kitty, she added, "Let us introduce our newest member of the family to the other animals in the barn."
Before they continued to the barn, Miss Kitty said, "Jane and Lizzy are reading in the rose garden if you wish to call on them." With a nice curtsy she must have been practicing, she smiled and followed her sister at a swift gait.
The rose garden boasted one carefully manicured rose bush surrounded by others in various stages of neglect. It would not surprise Darcy to learn that Mr. Bennet refused to care for his rose bushes upon learning how Mr. Collins favored the bloom. The scratches on Miss Mary’s hands had suggested who the keeper of the lone, thorny bush was.
At the edge of the garden, where a small pond separated the house from the fields, sat Elizabeth. From the corner of his eye, he saw Miss Bennet join Bingley, but Darcy could not take his eyes off the young lady struggling to smile before him.
“Elizabeth,” he whispered for her alone.
“William,” she answered, lowering her face and looking out over the pond so he could not see her expression.
Was she still angry at him? He would naturally assume so, but what did he know? According to Lord Harvisham, nothing. Partly to prove the earl wrong, and partly hoping the earl had dispensed a sacred key of discovery, Darcy sat beside her, resting his hand close enough to hers on the bench, their fingers could touch if she wished it.
She did not. Standing so quickly, he felt the air rustle around him, she stood facing him. Her face was a menagerie of emotion.
“Tell me what I must do to help you. Please, allow me to share in your burden,” he said softly.
Elizabeth scoffed. “You have already done enough.” She sighed, admitting, “You even got flowers for Mother. She would have loved them.”
If he had done so well, what was wrong? Why did she not speak her mind as he knew she was capable of doing? He stood, reaching his hand out to her cheek. She flinched, pushing him away. His anger rose at her unwillingness to simply tell him what was wrong, but care made him patient. "Please, tell me how I have erred," he insisted again.
Her eyes flashed and she closed the distance she had created only a moment before. "You want to know the great wrong you have done? You come here and take charge, seeing to every detail, and leave me with nothing to do. You have made me useless and aimless."
He opened his mouth to respond, but she was not done.
"You offended me on our first meeting, and I wish I could still despise you now as I did then. But I do not." She stabbed his neck cloth with her finger. "You made me care for you when I have no right to, and yet, I cannot hate you for it. You have doomed me to disappointment and the injustice of it makes me so angry at you for raising my hopes up higher than I had ever dreamed of only to have you — the man I had grown to trust — dash them to pieces."
He reached out to her, and she slapped him away.
"No!" she cried out, tears pouring down her face. "You knew you were not free to encourage me, and yet that is what you did. Was I nothing more than a game to you?"
Her chest heaved up and down. She looked away and he turned to see Bingley and Miss Bennet staring at them. Elizabeth waved at them to return to their sweet declarations of love or whatever it was two people who never argued did.
"Let me explain." He struggled to control his temper against her accusations. He forced himself to understand her position, and the tiny amount of insight he gained made his stomach churn. His negligence in revealing something he had thought unworthy of explanation had cut her to the core. And he had allowed it. She should never have had to hear about Aunt Catherine’s claims from anyone but himself … but he had not taken them seriously.
She shoved against his chest, closing her fists and pummeling him between sobs. Heartbreak weakened her blows, but she hit her mark squarely. And, oh, how he deserved it.
Elizabeth’s sobs turned to gasps in her visible struggle for breath. Darcy could bear her suffering no longer. Reaching around her, he pulled her tightly to his chest and held her. She did not fight against him; he would have loosened his hold had she done so. Instead, she buried her face into his cravat and wept. Much like his mother had done the day Father stole her self-worth by waving his indiscretions in front of her. Or the day Georgiana realized Wickham had not wanted her more than her dowry. In Elizabeth’s eyes, Darcy was no different from them.
“Shh.” He rested his cheek against the top of her head. “You wish to know why my Aunt Catherine presumes an engagement between myself and Anne?" He asked for clarification, taking no chances at any further misunderstandings.
Elizabeth's body relaxed against his own, melting in his arms. He felt her nod and sniff. The worst was over.
He could have stood holding her thus all day — for an eternity — but slowly, he loosened his arms to give her his dry handkerchief. She had soaked his cravat with tears, and the sharp, winter breeze cut into him when she pulled away.
"I am so sorry, William. I do not know what came over me," she said, covering he
r face from him with the linen square.
He held his hands up. "You are not the one who must apologize. My pride prevented me from explaining something I deemed unworthy of my consideration. I am sorry, Elizabeth. Please, do not hide from me."
She pulled one corner of the linen away from her eye. "I know I look horrid. My eyes puff out and turn red when I cry."
"Then I shall do my best to never again give you cause for tears. You are always beautiful to me." He extended his hand toward the bench, inviting her to sit with him.
"Let me tell you of my history with Lady Catherine de Bourgh. I have resented her interference until recently. However, it does not give her any more power over me than it did before. My mother suggested her sister might attempt such a scheme. She warned me of it before she died. She did not know of Anne’s malady, but she made me promise I would only marry a woman I could give my entire heart to. A woman I would respect as my equal and cherish every day of our lives together. You can imagine how such a promise would impact a boy of twelve years. It gave me the moral certainty I needed to refuse my aunt’s insistence that I marry my cousin from the start. Not once have I ever given her reason to hope.”
“But what of Miss de Bourgh? Do her wishes mean so little?”
“Her wishes do not include me. When she came of age and Aunt Catherine went so far as to suggest we have the banns read, Anne told me how she did not wish to marry at all. Neither she nor I have ever desired to be anything more than cousins — a fact of which she assured me again recently. With Richard as a witness, we discussed her future with the knowledge of her condition in the fore, and she agreed to allow me to make inquiries into treatments. Her greatest wish is relief from her ailment upon which she could exercise more freedom. Unlike her mother, she does not see marriage as her only solution. Not when she stands to inherit Rosings and enough of a fortune to live on comfortably.”