by C. P. Odom
“I quite understand, Miss Bennet. It has indeed been a day to strain anyone’s civility.” He gestured down the path. “Shall we return?”
They walked in silence under the trees, and gradually the tension subsided. Darcy felt, if not joyous, at least hopeful. And Elizabeth, while still upset, was thankful that the moments she had dreaded the most in their conversation were over. She felt her spirits lighten as the bright sunshine and the crisp air worked to bring her to good cheer.
At one point, Darcy was surprised to hear soft laughter, and he looked down to see a slight smile on her lips and the familiar sparkle to her eyes.
“I am cheered to see you laugh again, Miss Elizabeth,” he ventured cautiously.
“Oh, I am not made for dreary thoughts, sir,” she said. “At least not for long. I was just contemplating the reaction of certain people at the thought of your calling on me. I did tell you once, if you remember, that I am diverted by follies and nonsense, whims and inconsistencies?”
Elizabeth looked up with one eyebrow arched, a circumstance Darcy knew from experience presaged a flashing of her wit. “I do remember,” he said, immediately on his guard, yet relieved that she might yet jest with him after the high emotion of the past days.
“Oh, yes, sir. There are any number of our neighbours who will be shocked that you call on a lady who is only tolerable.”
Darcy groaned aloud. “You heard.”
“Oh, yes,” she said wickedly. “It was most incautiously said.”
Darcy groaned again, “Is every misspoken word I have ever uttered going to come back to haunt me?”
Elizabeth lowered her head to hide her smile, but in truth, Darcy was not overly unhappy. He would far rather be teased, even with a slight edge of malice, than to be ignored or rejected.
“I did not know you heard me,” he said, “but I suspected.” He considered his words. “I should have apologized.”
“It might have made some things easier,” she agreed.
“No doubt.” But this time it was he who chuckled, at which Elizabeth raised an eyebrow in query. “I was just thinking,” he said with a small smile, “that this will make a good tale to tell our children.”
“Mr. Darcy, you presume too much!” Elizabeth was instantly irritated by his presumption.
“Yes, you are correct. I am sorry; I spoke without thinking.”
But as they walked on, Darcy’s spirits would not be repressed, and he smiled again. “I should warn you, Miss Bennet, before we call later, that my cousin Fitzwilliam seems to have deduced my inclination toward you. When I informed him that you might consult with him, he seems to have taken that information and to have made some rather shrewd conjectures — rather close to the mark, I am afraid to say — so you might prepare for some teasing from him. He is much better at it than I am, you know.”
“Indeed,” Elizabeth said, as the Parsonage came into sight. “Did you confirm his suspicions, Mr. Darcy?”
“Oh, no, but I did not have to. I was taking a shot at billiards and was thus not prepared for his challenge, and my reaction confirmed the accuracy of his speculation.”
Darcy was silent for several steps and then continued, “Richard did mention that his concern first arose because I had been behaving rather oddly of late.” The thought seemed to amuse him, Elizabeth noted with some surprise, because she was firmly of the opinion that he had no sense of humour.
But she said nothing, and they soon reached the Parsonage.
“Goodbye, Miss Bennet,” Darcy said, taking her hand. “My cousin and I will call on your party in the afternoon.”
At first Elizabeth worried that he was going to kiss her hand, but he contented himself with a bow, his eyes fixed on hers as they darkened in a most disturbing manner. She now knew that gaze to be motivated, not by displeasure, but by esteem, and this thought was at last too much. Without replying, Elizabeth turned and hurried through the gate.
Chapter 6
Friday, April 10, 1812
At first, Darcy was relieved when Lady Catherine did not continue her harangue during luncheon. However, little more than halfway through the meal, his relief was supplanted, first by curiosity and then by alarm. Her ladyship always dominated the conversation, especially at table, and her present silence, broken only by the clink of silverware and the occasional short comment, was, while welcome to his personal tastes, not at all normal. No more than a few moments’ observation confirmed that something was amiss. His aunt’s pinched mouth, flared nostrils, and silent focus on her plate convinced him that she was coldly furious — at him. While his own experiences over the past two days had been distinctly unnerving, he could not recall having done anything to provoke this singular behaviour in his aunt.
Upon returning to his room afterwards, he noted another odd occurrence. As he approached his door, two maids at the end of the hall abruptly ceased their conversation, busying themselves with the folded bedding that one of them carried. They stole a glance at him as he paused at the door and then leaned their heads together, whispering, as he entered. He wondered at the unusual behaviour, but he did not bother himself overmuch since his aunt’s household had never been one in which he felt comfortable. Unlike his own household, Rosings was not composed of long-term, often lifetime, employees who frequently represented more than one generation of service to the Darcy family.
Since he and Fitzwilliam planned to take their leave of the Collinses and their visitors that afternoon, he immediately rang for Jennings and soon was descending the stairs to find his cousin waiting for him. To Darcy’s discomfort, Fitzwilliam was in high good humour, remarking several times as they walked on the impulsiveness of the Darcys and the disappointment of the ladies in town, and his cheerfulness was affected not a jot by Darcy’s cold replies and growing irritation. Blessedly, at last they reached the Parsonage.
They found the women sewing in the front parlour, and Fitzwilliam was at his charming best as he bowed over the hand of Mrs. Collins, thanking her for the many delightful visits during the past weeks. He then moved to Miss Lucas, who was as silent and unable to respond as ever. As Darcy also thanked Mrs. Collins, he noted her husband’s entry into the room. However, when the parson turned to greet him, Darcy was surprised to receive only an uncomfortable bow rather than the man’s normal obsequious performance. Collins said not a word, but the sudden discomfort and embarrassment of his wife could only be attributed to the parson’s uncharacteristic behaviour.
After Darcy paid his respects to Miss Lucas, he crossed to Elizabeth, who was already in conversation with his cousin. She turned to him as he approached, her expression guarded.
“Miss Bennet,” he said, “it was most pleasant to have the opportunity to renew our acquaintance.” Darcy could not help falling into that formal tone of voice he used in public, especially when he saw the easy manner in which his cousin conversed with her. Her reply was only a nod and a quiet, “Thank you, Mr. Darcy.”
“Please accept my best wishes for a safe and pleasant journey home to your family,” he continued. “I believe you will be stopping in town to visit with your relations?”
“Yes, Mr. Darcy. I leave Saturday week.”
“And you will be staying there before continuing on to your home?”
“For at least some few days. I will be joining my eldest sister, and my aunt has several events planned.”
“I trust you will find your sister in good spirits when you return.”
For the first time, Elizabeth met his eyes, and she could not restrain the surge of hope inside her. He really will do as he promised, she thought excitedly then chastised herself. Of course, he would do as he pledged. Even if he was disagreeable, he had always been honest and honourable. Bingley certainly affirmed it.
“I hope I shall, Mr. Darcy,” she said aloud.
“Then I shall take my leave, Miss Bennet, and leave you to the capable conversation of my cousin.” With a bow, he turned to go.
“Most impulsive, Darcy,” Fi
tzwilliam interjected quietly, earning a curious look from Elizabeth and a glare from Darcy. Fitzwilliam chuckled under his breath before turning back to Elizabeth.
Darcy again noted Collins’s agitated behaviour as he thanked the man for his hospitality. The pathetic man was actually sweating, and he obviously wished the gentlemen gone immediately. There being nothing left to say, Darcy finished with a cold bow and turned to leave. As he did, he observed his cousin again in conversation with Elizabeth, who appeared uncertain and uncomfortable, and he knew that Richard was engaged in a bit of subtle teasing.
Well, I warned her, he thought, with a certain degree of satisfaction, and made his departure.
Lady Catherine’s earlier manner at Rosings, coupled with Mr. Collins’s odd behaviour at the Parsonage were enough on his mind that, upon returning to his room, Darcy rang for Jennings. One glance at the discomfort on the valet’s usually calm visage convinced him that something was seriously amiss.
“All right, man, I can see that my suspicions are warranted,” he said. “Out with it!”
“Mr. Darcy, sir, this is most distressing,” Jennings began uncomfortably, “but I have heard some quite unseemly talk among the staff. I have pointedly attempted to correct such gossiping, but my efforts have been ignored.” He sniffed in disapproval and then continued, “The comments involve your person, Mr. Darcy, and they also concern a friend of Mrs. Collins, a Miss Bennet.”
Darcy cursed under his breath and then collected himself. “And what do they say?”
“I do not know for sure, Mr. Darcy, since I left the room when my advice to avoid gossip was ignored.”
Darcy sighed. “I am afraid that this is what you should expect when the household staff changes as often as occurs here, but there is no help for it now. Jennings, I need to know what is being said below stairs. I hate to ask this of you, but I must know. Please endeavour to find out whatever you can and give me a report after supper.”
“Very good, sir,” said Jennings, and he quietly left the room.
* * * * *
Darcy stayed in the library reading until supper, which was a repeat of luncheon, and even Fitzwilliam and Anne noticed Lady Catherine’s cold behaviour. He ate quickly and, ignoring Fitzwilliam’s raised eyebrows, made his exit as soon as possible to return to his room. There, he quickly summoned Jennings. As soon as the man entered, Darcy could tell that he did not bring good news. He did not think he had ever seen his valet quite this upset and angry.
“Have a seat, Jennings. This appears as if it may take some time.”
“Indeed it may, sir. I have been busy listening to a variety of different accounts from the staff, and none of them seems to see even the slightest impropriety in indulging in such talk! It is all quite upsetting, sir!”
“I dare say,” said Darcy. “Well, let me have all the particulars. Omit nothing, for I need complete information so I know how to proceed.”
“Very well, sir,” said Jennings. “First” — and he ticked off the point on his finger — “the Parsonage servants, who appear to be almost as ill-behaved as those here at Rosings, have evidently spread a report that you visited the Parsonage last evening and there spent several hours alone with Miss Bennet in the parlour.
Darcy struggled to control his sudden fury, and it was several moments before he felt himself under sufficient control to respond to Jennings report.
“I see,” he said at length, and motioned to his valet to continue.
Jennings well understood his employer’s anger and shrugged helplessly. “I am sorry, sir, but the staff, as I say —”
“I know, I know, Jennings. Pray continue.”
“As I say, the Parsonage staff was all excited about this as a most improper and indeed, compromising, situation, especially since it is the house of a clergyman. Next” — he ticked off another finger — “the Rosings staff has taken that bit of gossip and added to it that you and Miss Bennet have several times been seen walking in the park and that you have other times ventured to meet Miss Bennet alone at the Parsonage. They are talking of other assignations beyond that of last evening.
“Next,” he continued, “Mr. Collins was incautious enough this morning to speak to Lady Catherine in front of one of the servants. He not only repeated what was being said already but also added his own estimation, which is — and please pardon me for saying it, sir — that you made improper advances toward Miss Bennet last evening, which she rejected. He believes you tried to force yourself on her, which resulted in Miss Bennet fleeing the parlour in tears.”
This brought Darcy to his feet in anger. “That idiot! That he would spread such filth about his own cousin is completely intolerable! And that the servants would then gossip about it! Can they not see how harmful this type of talk can be to the family? Is there no one in charge below stairs at either household?”
“There does not appear to be, sir. The previous housekeeper left over two months ago, and she has not been replaced. The butler ought to step in, but it appears that he is rather fond of the bottle and will not be bothered to control the staff.”
“Well, is that all?” asked Darcy, calming himself and resuming his seat.
“Not quite, sir. And this last is the most disturbing of the lot. One of the kitchen maids, who appears quite the ringleader, has ventured that the parson’s opinion regarding improper advances could not have been accurate, since she saw you just this morning walking with Miss Bennet. Your conversation, seen from a distance, could not be discerned but it was clear that both parties were at times upset. She ventured to suggest that you must have seduced Miss Bennet and her tears last night resulted from her attempts to induce you to marry her followed by your flat refusal.”
This last brought a groan from Darcy, but Jennings continued. “I thought I overheard her saying that she had written to her sister of this story, but when I confronted her, she would not confirm the truth of it. I did check, but the afternoon post had been picked up already.”
Darcy’s face was stony though his thoughts were in turmoil as Jennings concluded. “That is the last of what I could learn, sir. I am sorry to be the bearer of bad tidings. I have never been subjected to such ill-bred associates. They would never be tolerated in a decent household.”
Darcy thanked him for his efforts and dismissed him for the evening, but after more than an hour of deep contemplation, he was interrupted by a knock at the door.
“Come,” called Darcy, startled out of his concentration, and he was surprised to see Fitzwilliam enter. The worry was evident on his cousin’s normally pleasant face.
“Darcy,” he said without preamble, “my man, Sergeant Henderson, has just told me of some most disturbing news that he picked up in the kitchen.”
“I can guess,” Darcy groaned. “I spoke with Jennings earlier.”
“What!” exclaimed Fitzwilliam, looking sharply at Darcy. “Cousin, they are saying you have seduced Miss Bennet!”
“Among other things,” growled Darcy. “What an unholy muddle!” Seeing the look of concern still on his cousin’s face, he burst out, “It is not true, Richard! Nothing improper has passed between Elizabeth and me!”
“Elizabeth, is it?” Fitzwilliam said with some heat. “She did not look as if she would have welcomed your calling her by her Christian name this afternoon. What exactly has passed between you, Darcy?”
Darcy realized that, once his cousin’s protective nature was aroused, nothing less than the full account would do, and he resignedly set himself to it.
“Will you pour two brandies? I shall explain everything, but it may take some time.”
Darcy then told his cousin of all that had transpired between himself and Elizabeth, from their meeting in Hertfordshire, to his abortive proposal, to that night’s unwelcome report from Jennings. By the time he was finished, their glasses had been refilled and were once again half-drained.
“What a bunch of gossiping old hens!” Fitzwilliam remarked. He took a sip of his brandy. “At least that
explains her ladyship’s behaviour at dinner.”
“Too right. But as angry as she must be, she will never bring it up to me for fear that I might be forced to defend Miss Bennet’s honour by offering marriage.”
“Do you think she has any inkling of your true feelings?”
Darcy shook his head. “I would be quite surprised. But more important is the question of what I should do.” He ran his hand through his hair as he considered the situation. “I am inclined to think that the best course is to simply ignore it,” he said at last. “Almost anything I might do would only lend credence to these pernicious rumours.”
Fitzwilliam considered this a moment. “The thought has its attractions, but I am concerned about the letter written by one of the kitchen staff. Did Jennings have any idea where it was sent?” Darcy shook his head, and Fitzwilliam sighed. “That makes it more difficult. What if this gossip should make its way to London?”
“That would not be pleasant,” Darcy agreed. “But how bad could it be? Why could I not simply ignore it, even if it did become a topic of conversation?”
“Because you, my dear cousin, are a supremely eligible bachelor and are therefore a figure of prominence in London society. If the gossip makes it to the scandal sheets, it will be published, and it will be noticed.”
“Even so, it has happened before, and I have successfully ignored it.”
“Yes, but those were trifling mentions, seeking to connect you to this or that available young woman. This involves more than yourself. You might successfully ignore it even if it were published in the Chronicle, and you might well escape with barely a singe. But not Miss Bennet,” he said quietly. “What will merely singe you could completely ruin her. If you do not want the girl hurt, you have to do something.”
Darcy grimaced at the truth of Fitzwilliam’s observation. “There is only one response acceptable in a situation such as this, and that is an offer of marriage. But that has already been attempted with the dismal results I have mentioned.”