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

by Abigail Reynolds

  Then there was Edward - another problem to be solved. If Eleanor resented Edward as much as the rest of her family did, she was not going be happy to discover her brother might be spending a great deal of time at Pemberley in the future. It was hardly reasonable to expect her to keep his presence a secret from her father. If Darcy could barely tolerate Lord Bentham now, it would be a disaster when the Marquess discovered that Edward was with Darcy. What a tangled muddle they had created!

  Devil take it - the windowpanes were shattering into tiny diamond fragments. Damn his megrims! And this time he could not ask Elizabeth to work her magic to ease his pain. Instead he would have Eleanor, and he needed to become accustomed to that idea.

  Elizabeth had not been surprised when Eleanor said she would not come down to dinner owing to a return of her headache from the day before. But yesterday's headache had been fictional, and judging by Eleanor's pallor and pinched brows after their discussion, today's was likely genuine. Elizabeth only wished she could avoid the meal as well, but even if Lady Bentham accepted her excuses, Lord Charles would not.

  Even so, the atmosphere at dinner was stiff. Most of the house party guests had left, leaving only Lady Mary and her parents, Lord and Lady Alford. It was harder to disguise tensions in the smaller group. Darcy seemed withdrawn and uninterested in speaking to anyone, not even returning the tentative smile Elizabeth offered him. Had he regretted telling her the truth of his engagement, or was he angry with her?

  Lord Charles was beside her at every possible moment. To his credit, he did not engage in any of the flirtation she found so displeasing, instead setting himself to ensure her comfort at every turn. It was the first time Elizabeth had been with him since his astonishing proposal, and she found it disconcerting. Having reflected upon it. Elizabeth no longer thought his proposal a trick, but rather that his character had more complexity than was initially apparent. She had heard from both Eleanor, who could be presumed to have a bias in favor of her brother, and from Miss Holmes, who should be biased against him, that Lord Charles had been different before his years in London. Now she could see that man still existed, at least to some degree, under the thick veneer of rakish manners. If her presence was helping that part of him emerge, she did not wish to discourage it; but she would have no interest in marrying him, even if she had no affection for Mr. Darcy.

  She stole a glance at Mr. Darcy. He sat between Lady Mary and her mother, although he was not conversing much. His attention seemed focused on his plate, but he did not appear to be partaking of the food before him. His thoughts were a mystery to her, and they would have to remain that way for now. It might be some time before Eleanor could find a way to break off the betrothal, and even then. Darcy would have to wait a decent interval before showing interest in her. Since they could not go back to where they were. Elizabeth had decided that her only option was to pretend he was nothing more than an old acquaintance, at least until such a time when he could pay court to her properly. She did not like the idea, but could see no other choice.

  When the ladies withdrew after dinner, Elizabeth decided Eleanor had the right idea. Claiming a headache of her own, she excused herself for the night. Her headache was not fictional either - it had been christened Charles Carlisle, though his distant cousin Fitzwilliam Darcy could claim a share in it as well.

  Two gentlemen, two major difficulties. Oh, how she wished her sister Jane were there to advise her! The situation with Mr. Darcy would resolve with time, but Lord Charles would not wait that long. She had to tell him the truth sooner or later, and once she had done that, she would need to leave Bentham Park. That much was clear. But how could she leave? Lord Charles would try to stop her efforts to depart, and even if she somehow managed it. there was nothing to prevent him from following her to Longboum.

  In the end, she decided on a compromise. She would tell Lord Charles that, although she was pleased with the changes he planned to make in himself, she did not feel she could rely on it yet. Her answer for now would be no, but if his feelings for her remained the same in a year, he could ask her again. Some more obliging young woman was bound to cross his path in that time, and he would forget all about her - or so she hoped.

  As satisfied with this plan as she could hope to be under the circumstances, Elizabeth was preparing for bed in the hope she might actually manage to sleep tonight when a maid knocked at her door. Lord Bentham wished to see her in his study immediately, it seemed, and his lordship was not pleased.

  After a moment of apprehension, Elizabeth realized this might be the end of her problem. Why would Lord Bentham be displeased with her unless he had found out about Lord Charles' proposal to her? If Lord Bentham forbade the match, that would be the end of it.

  She had never before entered the sanctum of Lord Bentham's study, and so was unprepared for the imposing sight of his lordship sitting behind the largest desk she had ever seen. It was enough to quail even the bravest of hearts, but she reminded herself that she had done nothing wrong. Well, nothing apart from deceiving him about his daughter's meetings with Paxton. Her palms grew suddenly damp.

  He frowned at her. "Miss Bennet. Pray be seated."

  She sat in the large wing-backed chair he indicated, feeling swallowed up in it like a child in an adult's chair. "You sent for me, my lord?"

  "Yes. Tell me, where is Eleanor?"

  "She is in bed with a headache."

  Lord Bentham's brows drew together. "Try again. Miss Bennet," he said sternly.

  "I do not have the pleasure of understanding you, my lord."

  "Eleanor, as I believe you know, is not in bed with a headache. Now, where is she?"

  She shook her head helplessly. "I have no idea."

  The massive desk was daunting enough, but when Lord Bentham marched around it to loom over her, he appeared even more formidable. Elizabeth considered herself courageous, but only a fool would not have feared being alone with the furious Marquess.

  "Miss Bennet, we have taken you into our home and treated you with kindness and generosity. We have given you opportunities you would never otherwise receive. Is this how you repay us?"

  "I am very grateful for all your generosity to me, but I still do not know where your daughter may be. Have you asked her maid?"

  He glowered at her. '"Her maid also thought she was in bed, but when she went in with a cup of hot milk as my wife had ordered, she found the bed empty, with only a pile of pillows under the bedclothes to make it appear that someone was there. She says you were the last to see her."

  "This is as much a shock to me as it is to you, my lord." Unfortunately, now she also had a good guess as to where Eleanor might be, and Lord Bentham would not be happy about it. But if Eleanor was determined to break her engagement to Darcy without blame falling on him, it appeared she had found a way to do it.

  The study door opened, allowing Lord Charles to stroll in. It was perhaps the first time Elizabeth had felt glad to see him. "Is something the matter?" he asked with a frown, looking directly at her.

  Of course! When he realized she was with his father, he must also have assumed that Lord Bentham had learned of his proposal and was taking action to stop it. Before he could say anything to that effect, she said, "Your father had a question for me about Lady Eleanor."

  "It appears she has run off." Lord Bentham briefly outlined the situation. "Miss Bennet denies all knowledge of her whereabouts, but it seems highly unlikely that Eleanor would not have taken her friend into her confidence." He glared at her as if it were her fault Eleanor had not told her.

  "Allow me." Lord Charles pulled up a footstool and sat on it, facing Elizabeth. Taking her hand, he laced his fingers with hers and leaned toward her. "You are sure she told you nothing?"

  "Nothing about this." The intimacy of their position bothered her far more than the questioning. "When did you see her last?"

  "When I went up to dress for dinner, I stopped by her room and we talked. That was just after I spoke to you."

  He c
ocked an eyebrow. "Did you tell her about anything in particular?"

  She knew he was asking if she had told Eleanor about his proposal. "Nothing important. We just talked about the things we always talk about."

  "Can you remember what was said? There might be some helpful detail that seemed insignificant at the time."

  Repeating that conversation seemed a singularly poor idea. "She asked about my walk with Mr. Paxton, what he and I had talked about, and whether I thought he had any serious intentions towards me. That was most of it." All true, and all deceptive.

  "Did she say anything about her engagement? Is she happy with it?"

  Elizabeth hesitated. "I cannot recall her saying anything in particular about it this evening. When we spoke of it this morning, she seemed pleased to be marrying Mr. Darcy instead of Lord Deyncourt. She felt it would be a good match for both of them."

  "So you do not think she ran off because of her engagement?"

  "To get away from Mr. Darcy? She gave no sign of distress this morning, and she seemed pleased enough to be in his company today. He spent much more time talking to her than I did. Perhaps he might have some idea where she is."

  Lord Charles looked up at his father. ''It is worth a try, I suppose. We cannot hope to keep it hidden from him in any case."

  The Marquess gave an abrupt nod. Releasing her hand, Lord Charles went to the door and instructed an unseen servant to fetch Mr. Darcy.

  Elizabeth surreptitiously wiped her hand on her skirt. "Is that all, my lord?"

  "You may go," he said absently.

  Grateful to escape, she rose to her feet, but Lord Charles blocked her way. "No, pray remain with us. We may need more information from you, and you are part of this now."

  Good Lord! Did he mean he considered her to have joined the family already? Apparently Lord Charles was as certain of her eventual acceptance as Mr. Collins had been. Following Eleanor's lead and stealing off into the night was starting to sound appealing.

  When Mr. Darcy arrived a minute later, he gave her a brief startled glance, but no other acknowledgement. He also appeared distinctly displeased to be there. "You sent for me?" he said in a clipped voice.

  Lord Bentham eyed him beneath furrowed brows. "Did you quarrel with Eleanor today?"

  "Of course not. We were in the sitting room with your wife all day."

  "You did not see her separately?"

  "No. If you doubt me, I can easily call witnesses to account for my whereabouts at all times today."

  "Now, Darcy, there is no cause to raise your hackles at me. It was just a simple question."

  "I did not care for last night's simple questions. Is there anything else you wish to question me about, or may I go?"

  Although she had seen Darcy make offensive comments in the past, she had never known him to be so deliberately rude. Was he trying to provoke Lord Bentham?

  Lord Charles spoke first. "We have a slight problem, Darcy. It appears Eleanor has run off."

  "Run off?" Darcy's eyes flew to Elizabeth.

  She was half-tempted to laugh. "I know nothing about it."

  "Perhaps she went out for some fresh air, and did not wish anyone to know about it. She may well return in a few minutes."

  Lord Bentham scowled. "She would not have stuffed pillows in her bed to hide her absence for a night-time stroll."

  Darcy raised an eyebrow. "No, I suppose not. What has been done to locate her?"

  "We are organizing a search of the estate. The gatekeeper says she did not pass him, no horses are missing, and there have been no carriages on the road. There is nowhere nearby for her to go, so it seems most likely that she is hiding in one of the outbuildings or has injured herself in the dark."

  Darcy did not seem to share Lord Bentham's worry, no doubt knowing as well as she did where Eleanor was likely to be. "I hope you discover her soon. In the meantime, I will return to Hillington and hope to receive more positive news in the morning." He sounded bored, but Elizabeth noticed how stiffly he held himself. The poor man must be having another megrim!

  "I would prefer you to remain here, Darcy. We may need to discuss matters further when she is found."

  If Elizabeth was correct, Eleanor would not be found anywhere on the estate. But if Eleanor had not taken the road to Hillington, how had she planned to cross the river? There had been no opportunity for her to communicate to Paxton, so he would not be there to assist her, and he had made it clear the river crossing was dangerous. Of course, that sort of warning was unlikely to stop Eleanor. Most likely she would be able to manage the stepping-stones, but it was dark outside. Elizabeth's heart began to beat a little faster.

  Turning to Lord Charles, she said in a low voice, "I hope you will excuse me for a few minutes. I will return shortly."

  He gave her a nod and an understanding smile, no doubt thinking that she needed to visit the necessary. Hurrying to her room, she took out her portable writing desk and opened the inkwell. Fortunately, the pen was newly sharpened.

  Sir, my friend has been discovered to have left this house some time ago, and her whereabouts are unknown. I hope she has safely reached her destination. She apparently travelled across the park rather than along the road. If she has not yet arrived, it is cause for concern. A search of the park has already begun.

  She read it over quickly. Hardly articulate, but Paxton would understand it, and she did not have time to make it clearer yet still unidentifiable. She blew on it to dry the ink as much as she could, though it would undoubtedly still smudge. Who could deliver it? With a search going on, she could not go out to the stables to find a boy to take it. Folding the paper several times, she found her way to the kitchen instead. It was still bustling with servants handling the remains of dinner. One of the kitchen maids was able to point out a likely boy to her.

  She took him outside to give him the note. "You must give this to Mr. Paxton directly, and tell him it is from one of the ladies at Bentham. If you are there and back in an hour, I will give you two shillings."

  The thought of such great wealth sent the boy off at a run. Elizabeth looked after him, hoping he was not inclined to gossip. Her reputation was already endangered enough by tonight's events.

  Paxton re-read the unsigned note for the third time. It had to be from Miss Bennet; it was not in Eleanor's handwriting, and no other lady at Bentham Park would send him a message. So Eleanor had fled Bentham, and was presumably on her way to him at Hillington. Was Miss Bennet letting him know the search was on, or giving him warning so he could decide how to receive her? It was not as if he would ever turn Eleanor away, though he did have a few choice words about her recent decisions. Perhaps the warning was just that Eleanor's absence had been discovered, so she would know not to return.

  She apparently travelled across the park rather than along the road. If she has not yet arrived, it is cause for concern.

  Suddenly his stomach felt as if it were full of rocks. "Good God, the stepping stones!" he cried.

  "Sir?" Symons eyed him oddly.

  "I need a lantern immediately. This instant, Symons!"

  "Yes, sir." Symons scuttled off.

  Surely Eleanor would not have been so foolish.. .but of course, she was a daredevil, and had always believed he was exaggerating about how dangerous the stones were now. He prayed she had not tried to cross them. But she must have, if she had not come by road. Devil take it. where was that lantern? Perhaps he should go without it - but no, that was foolish. The new moon had been but a day ago, and he might end up missing her altogether in the darkness. But she could be injured or even dying as he waited!

  A footman ran up to him with a lit lantern in hand. '"Here, sir."

  Paxton grabbed it and ran outside. Holding the lantern high, he sprinted across the broad lawn to the avenue beyond the rose garden. The trees where the park gave way to forest looked different in the dark, branches reaching out like fingers, and it took him several agonizingly long minutes to find the entrance to his pathway. He had gone t
o some pains to make it unnoticeable so no one would discover he was visiting Bentham, but it worked to his disadvantage now. Finally he spotted the broad beech tree that marked it.

  He had to slow his pace as he followed the twists and turns of the narrow path, the undergrowth clutching at the tails of his coat. Was this the right path? Perhaps he had chosen the wrong one and was going in circles. No, he was headed downhill, and that was correct. At last he reached the place where the path widened out as it ran through a small meadow. Now he could move freely, despite the small circle of flickering light cast by the lantern. He cursed as a hillock caught his foot and nearly sent him sprawling.

  Down through the copse and into the valley until finally he could make out the line of trees along the riverbank. "Eleanor!" he called and stopped a moment to listen. Hearing nothing except the haunting cry of an owl, he hurried to the river's edge.

  The water reflected the pale glow from the lantern. Surely she would not have attempted the stepping-stones in the dark! Treacherous and slippery at the best of times, he would not dare hazard them himself without the light of day, but it had been many years since Eleanor had last crossed them. He always came to her now, and he had never admitted to her how close he had come to falling on those journeys.

  He shone the lantern light along the muddy bank. He could make out the stones, but Eleanor was nowhere to be seen. Calling her name again, this time with a degree of desperation, he held the lantern high, trying to make the feeble light illuminate the banks.

  Good God! What was that white patch a short distance downstream? There was no path here; all he could do was scrabble along the marshy bank, keeping his eyes on the odd whiteness. He was nearly there when he tripped over a root and lost his footing, crashing down into the shockingly cold water. It was not deep - the water came no higher than his chest - but the current tugged sharply at his clothing. He had dropped the lantern in his fall, and it went bobbing off downstream until the light spluttered out. He did not even pause, just ploughed his way through the icy water until he reached a spot where the white figure lay.