Mr. Darcy's Noble Connections: A Pride & Prejudice Variation

by Abigail Reynolds

  "If it were not, the stable boys would have to answer for it. I suppose, though, it is not quite the thing when we are in motion." He handed her the sheath just as they reached the road.

  She slid the knife into the sheath, looking up at him through her eyelashes. His attention remained on the road as he urged the horses to a canter, but she thought she could detect a pleased look on his face.

  Darcy counted the trip back to the valley as a success. He had handed Elizabeth into the curricle and sat in the driver's seat beside her without incident. He had not commented on the deliberate torture she had inflicted on him when she let down her hair, nor had he ripped out every one of those damned hairpins and thrown them as far as he could into the heather, nor had he said anything that could be interpreted as even remotely forward. Of course, he had only managed it by promising himself the reward of a kiss at the end, but all the same, it was an accomplishment.

  And that kiss! He suspected it might not have happened quite so smoothly had he not taken her by surprise, but still, there was no denying that she not only permitted it to continue, but responded to it with an unexpected fire. While it might not be the same as reaching an understanding, it was damned close to it, and certainly she was seeing him in a very different light than she had even a few hours before. That little display while she put her hair up had made that clear. She would not have gone out of her way to arouse his interest if she did not want it aroused - and, by God, she had aroused him!

  It was just as well that the other carriage was not far down the road, or he might have repeated the experiment. That would be a mistake; better that he should leave her wanting more than give her the chance to push him away. No, he should keep his mind on Greek conjugations, and after that kiss, he needed the most difficult irregular verbs.

  Still, when he sighted the others and slowed the horses to a walk, he felt regret that this special time was ending. As he glanced down at Elizabeth, the discovery that she was watching him made his heart pound. When her tongue darted out to touch her lips, he thought his heart might leap out of his chest, and certainly other parts of his body were leaping as well. If only he could kiss her again! But it would not do, not when anyone in the carriage could see them. Instead, he carefully placed his hand over hers as it lay on the bench between them.

  Her expression did not change, although a flush warmed her cheeks. She turned her hand over so her palm was against his, and he felt the light pressure of her fingers. It was beyond belief. Elizabeth had deliberately taken his hand. She had changed her mind about him. Triumph and heart-felt delight surged through him.

  The sound of crunching gravel warned him that someone was approaching rapidly. Thank God for Edward's brilliantly trained horses who had known to stop even when their driver was completely distracted!

  Elizabeth dropped her eyes and withdrew her hand, leaving his feeling unbearably empty. Darcy had to tear his gaze away from her to see Paxton striding toward them, his expression stormy. Lady Eleanor was nowhere to be seen.

  Darcy had barely exited the curricle when Paxton spoke without any preliminary. "Darcy, it is time for us to leave. Perhaps Miss Bennet should join Lady Eleanor in the carriage."

  This incivility was so unlike his friend that Darcy hardly knew how to reply. "Is Lady Eleanor unwell?"

  "Lady Eleanor is quite well," Paxton snapped, his tone implying that his opinion of her was in very ill health indeed. "Are we going?"

  Confused, Darcy looked from his friend to Elizabeth and back. "Of course, if you wish, but we must see the ladies back to Bentham Park."

  "You may do so if you wish." Paxton made the slightest of bows to Elizabeth. "Miss Bennet, I hope you enjoyed the moors." Despite his attempt at civil words, his anger was apparent.

  "Very well," Darcy said coolly. He could not imagine what had brought his usually affable friend to this extremity, but he had no intention of parting from Elizabeth on this note, not after what had just happened between them. He offered her his hand to assist her out of the curricle. "I will join you shortly, Paxton."

  With a sharp nod, Paxton turned away.

  Concerned, Darcy walked Elizabeth to the carriage with the intention of apologizing for his friend's poor manners, but her attention was immediately turned toward Lady Eleanor, whose flushed face and tight lips revealed her distress. Lady Eleanor usually appeared so calm, almost placid, that it looked as incongruous as if she had suddenly sprouted wings. Elizabeth put an arm around her friend, but Lady Eleanor shrugged it off as if in irritation. "I am perfectly well!" she snapped loud enough for Darcy to hear.

  To Darcy's surprise, Elizabeth cast a look at him over her shoulder. Was it concern, distress, or a request for assistance? If only he understood her better! Her friend's face had gone from flushed to white. Obeying his instincts, he entered the carriage as well.

  "Is there anything that might aid you in your present distress? Shall I fetch Paxton?" Darcy asked Lady Eleanor. When she shook her head without looking up, he said to Elizabeth, "Pray excuse me. I will return presently."

  He found Paxton pacing beside his curricle, his expression grim. "Are you ready?" his friend demanded.

  With a reproving gaze, Darcy said, "Lady Eleanor is unwell."

  "And no doubt sent you to give me that very message to prevent us from leaving!"

  "Not at all," Darcy said, "but you may depart whenever you please. I plan to see the ladies to Bentham Park, and will find my way back to Hillington Hall from there."

  "She is undeserving of your sympathy, Darcy."

  "That may be, but it does not follow that I should leave Miss Bennet in a difficult situation." Paxton's lips twisted. "Do as you will, then."

  Whatever Lady Eleanor had said to him must have been dreadful indeed to provoke this sort of behavior. Nodding, Darcy moved past him to the ladies' carriage. While he was still giving instructions to the coachman, he heard Paxton urging the greys into a canter.

  Elizabeth did not know whether to be sorry or grateful that Mr. Darcy accompanied them home. She was glad to know there would be someone to turn to, apart from Eleanor's useless maid, should Eleanor's illness become worse; and she supposed that even without his presence, Eleanor would not tell her what had happened until they reached the privacy of her room. Still, she would have paid dearly to learn what had upset Eleanor now rather than later. She had not thought Mr. Paxton the sort of man who would cause a lady such distress, but she had been wrong about men before.

  The thought made her glance at the man sitting opposite her. Heat flushed through her again at the remembrance of what had just happened between them. What had possessed her to behave as she did? Certainly it had not been a conscious choice, or even a reasoned response. No, it was far more primitive. When Darcy touched her, she resorted to pure instinct. She could not manage a coherent thought when he was so close to her.

  Not that he seemed to be paying the least attention to her now! Instead, Darcy was looking out the window as if the passing countryside were of greater interest than the sight of a marquess's daughter blinking back tears, but she supposed it was the most tactful thing he could do. He seemed to feel her gaze on him, since his eyes shifted to her. Caught, she gave a slight shrug, to which he responded with a sympathetic look and the tiniest of nods before once more turning away.

  Between her concern for Eleanor and her disconcerting awareness of Mr. Darcy, it seemed a long time before the carriage turned into the tree-lined drive of Bentham Park. Fortunately, Mr. Darcy had thought to mention to the driver that he should avoid the main doors, so none of the other guests observed them as he handed them out of the carriage. The few servants in the vicinity knew better than to stare or remark on Lady Eleanor's tear-streaked face.

  Elizabeth addressed herself to Mr. Darcy. "Thank you for accompanying us. I hope it did not inconvenience you."

  "Not at all, Miss Bennet. No doubt the stable master will allow me to borrow a mount to return to Hillington Hall." He hesitated. "Is there any message y
ou would like me to carry?" Although he spoke to Elizabeth, his words were clearly meant for Eleanor.

  Eleanor drew herself to her full height, which was still half a head shorter than Elizabeth. "There is no message."

  Mr. Darcy bowed silently to her, then shot a significant glance at Elizabeth. "I wish you good day, then."

  With her chin in the air, Eleanor said in her most aristocratic manner, "I hope you enjoy the remainder of your stay at Hillington Hall, Mr. Darcy."

  Elizabeth's mouth was suddenly dry. Eleanor's dismissal made it clear she did not expect to see him again. Would the quarrel between Eleanor and Mr. Paxton mean she could no longer see Mr. Darcy? Something deep inside her tied into knots at the thought.

  His face grew white, but he managed another correct bow. "Pray accept my best wishes for your future happiness, Lady Eleanor. Miss Bennet."

  She knew she should say something, but her mind was a complete blank. When he turned and strode away, her gaze followed him involuntarily. Shaking her head to clear it, she supported Eleanor at the elbow. "Come, let us go inside."

  Eleanor, her shoulders now slumped, allowed Elizabeth to lead her. Although resolutely trying to push thoughts of Mr. Darcy from her mind, Elizabeth could not resist taking one last look at him before stepping over the threshold. To her surprise, he had stopped and now faced in her direction, clearly watching her. Elizabeth's skin tingled alarmingly, and she had to force her eyes away from him. Eleanor needed her attention now. Her own confused feelings could wait. Indeed, waiting was the only choice she had.

  They climbed the back staircase to avoid curious eyes. Once in the privacy of Eleanor's rooms, Elizabeth dismissed the maid and closed the door firmly behind her. By that time, her friend was already lying prone on her bed, sobbing into her pillow. She had not even removed her bonnet and gloves.

  Feeling oddly numb, Elizabeth sat beside her and rubbed her hand comfortingly on Eleanor's shoulders. "Can you tell me what happened, dearest? Was he cruel to you?"

  "Cruel? Only in that he would deny us any future!"

  Elizabeth chose her words carefully. "It is hard to have a future when you are to marry another man."

  "Of course it is! And what choice do we have but to make the best of it? Not Geoffrey, though - no, he says that after my wedding day everything between us must end, and he will have no more contact with me!" Her voice choked up with sobs.

  It was hard to argue with that, and Elizabeth did not understand her friend's reaction to it. "I take it you do not agree?"

  "How can I?" Eleanor turned red eyes toward her. "I cannot put him aside like a plaything I have tired of. He is part of my soul! Or at least I believed he was."

  "But once you are married.

  "Once I am married, that man will own my allegiance and my body until I produce his heir, and then he will no longer care what I do or with whom I do it as long as I am reasonably discreet. Oh, why does Geoffrey not understand?"

  Certain things that had puzzled Elizabeth suddenly began to make sense - Eleanor's docility about marrying, her seeming indifference to the impending separation from her lover. Apparently she viewed it as a temporary inconvenience, not a permanent division between them. Elizabeth was both shocked by her easy acceptance of adultery and her expectation that everyone else would understand it as she did. "Is that what provoked your quarrel today?"

  Eleanor nodded miserably. "I assumed he knew, but apparently it never crossed his mind, and he is determined to be such a... such a fool about it. Is his precious morality more important to him than I am?"

  "He loves you. Perhaps he could not bear to share you with another man, to watch you marry another man, to bear his children. Perhaps that would be more painful than to give you up entirely."

  "Yet he wants me to give up my entire life for him. My family, all my friends - they would refuse to receive me if I married him. I know you would not cut me, but all the others….I would never see my home again, never touch any of my belongings again, never move in the society I am accustomed to again. He would lose nothing apart from the ability to move in certain circles where he is hardly welcome anyway. Oh, how can he ask it of me?"

  "Has he reproached you for your choice to marry Lord Deyncourt?"

  A sob escaped Eleanor. "Not in so many words. He says that he understands I must obey my father, but I can tell he does not. Men think nothing of what a woman gives up when she marries; they expect us to leave everything behind while everything stays the same for them."

  "He will need an heir as well. How will you feel when he marries?"

  "I shall hate it, of course, but I shall not blame him, as long as his heart remains mine."

  "And what of his wife? Will she accept so easily that her husband loves another?"

  "Do not look at me like that, Lizzy! I have no wish to hurt anyone; you know that. But since my father will not consider Geoffrey's suit, there is no hope for a solution that would be happy for everyone. And it will be nothing but misery for me, for I will never see him again, and now I will know that he despises me as well."

  Elizabeth patted her arm. "I am certain he does not despise you. He is angry, yes, but that does not mean his feelings for you have changed."

  "But how can he not despise me? Sometimes I despise myself. Every other girl in the world is happy to follow her father's wishes. Why cannot I do the same?"

  "Where in the world did you come across that idea? When girls happen to agree with their fathers, they are happy to follow his wishes, but not if they disagree - or perhaps you think women should have no minds of their own?"

  "I might be happier if I did not have a mind of my own," muttered Eleanor. "Are there so many girls who do not wish to marry their father's choice? Everyone tells me it is a great personal failing and that I should pray for forgiveness and humility."

  "Allow me to guess - this 'everyone' of whom you speak would be your father and your brothers?"

  "And my stepmother."

  "Of course. All the people who would benefit if you are happy with whatever you are given. I have four sisters, and I can tell you there is nothing at all natural about wishing to follow your father's commands! While I cannot advise refusing your father's commands, my dear, there is no reason whatsoever that you should like it."

  Eleanor raised her head to stare at Elizabeth. "Are you serious? You would not be ashamed if you did not wish to please your father above all else?"

  "If I did wish it, I would take to my bed instantly because it would be a certain sign that I was seriously ill! It is as ridiculous as if I said you should be ashamed not to agree with everything I say simply because you are my friend. This is what comes of not allowing you to go to school or spend time with other young ladies! Do you truly think your father has chosen your husband-to-be based solely on what is best for you? Or is he thinking of what is best for him? "Should I not want what is best for him, too? He is my father."

  "You are his daughter, not his possession. He can force you to do whatever he likes, but he cannot make you think whatever he likes. You are a person, not a puppet." Elizabeth could see from her friend's dubious expression that she was not convinced. "Have you never spoken to the other young ladies in London? Do they all wish for nothing but to please their fathers?"

  "They never talked about that, just about which gentlemen were the most handsome or richest and how to catch their eye. That had no interest for me because I only wanted Geoffrey, and I dared not say so. Now I have lost him as well." The tears began to pour down her cheeks once more. "I have loved none but him, and now he hates me."

  "Just because you quarreled does not mean he no longer loves you." Elizabeth wished she knew the right thing to say. Encouraging a rapprochement with Mr. Paxton would be asking for more heartbreak, but it seemed cruel to allow her to believe he had rejected her forever. "He was invited to hunt with the other gentlemen tomorrow, was he not? We can walk down by the stables in the morning, and perhaps you will be able to steal a moment with him to explain."
And perhaps she would be able to see Mr. Darcy, at least from a distance. She needed to do some serious thinking between now and the next time they spoke together.

  Chapter 9

  The following morning Elizabeth and Eleanor haunted the wilderness walk near the stables, but no one arrived from Hillington Hall. When the hunters rode out without Darcy or Paxton, Eleanor announced her intention to retire to her room and write letters. Since she made no mention of an invitation to join her, Elizabeth knew to whom the letter must be.

  Left with sudden free time, Elizabeth was seized by the urge to take a long walk of the sort there had been little opportunity for during her stay. Before anyone could take notice and insist that she join the other ladies indoors, she set off down the path to the abbey ruins. The exertion elevated her spirits, but could not stop the question in her mind of why Darcy had not come for the hunt, given that it would offer the opportunity to see her afterwards. That Paxton would not wish to attend did not surprise her; he did not strike her as a man who easily put aside his principles. But why would Darcy stay away?

  Surely after yesterday he would wish to see her, would he not? There must be a reason for his absence. Perhaps Paxton was so disturbed by his quarrel with Eleanor that Darcy felt it unwise to leave him alone, or he might think it not worth the time to spend half the day hunting for the prospect of a few minutes' conversation with her at the end. While her vanity did not like that possibility, her reason could not argue with it.

  Despite the intention of taking a leisurely survey of the ruins. Elizabeth found that her feet led her to the dark room where she had sat with Darcy during his megrim on the day of the picnic. Since there was no one to observe her this time, she curled up on the bench, pulling her legs under her. Was that the day that her view of him had begun to change, or was it even earlier? That moment during the waltz when she realized she was hurting him - that she even possessed the capacity to hurt him - had been a revelation, as had the experience of losing herself in the dance with him. Looking back, she could finally admit what she had not allowed herself to at the time. She had not wanted the waltz to end, not when she felt safe and warm spinning around the room in his arms.