Elizabeth’s thoughts accordingly took a new direction: not what man am I interested in, but what activity. She recalled the conversation with Bridget, in which they had dreamed of studying at a university, in the daily company not only of professors, but like-minded students. Of course such an experience could never be hers. But she could still read, not just sporadically as she had always done, but in a focussed way, so that she covered a subject in detail, and became an expert. With luck she might find others interested in the same subject, so that they could talk or correspond. She had seen examples over the summer of how satisfying such relationships could be, for instance in Sir George Beaumont’s evident fascination in the company of men like Wordsworth or Constable. Of course she, Elizabeth, would never reach such exalted levels; but in a humbler way she might hope to achieve similar contentment.
At other times her thoughts returned to Darcy, and their painful final meeting. Too late, she realised how much his admiration and love had meant to her. Foolishly she had believed them fixed, and so taken them for granted. Now they were gone. She had seen not a trace of tenderness or respect in their last conversation, only anger at her mendacity, and distaste that she had been dishonoured by another man. My good opinion, once lost, is lost forever. He had warned her, after all, and she had ignored him.
When alone in the woods, it happened more than once that she imagined herself in his company, and in her daydreams they did not quarrel, but talked as they had when he was recovering from his wounds in the duel. They would joke, or tease, or exchange ideas, and all the time the conversation would be leavened by his obvious affection and respect for her—and if she was honest, by her equivalent feelings for him. One day, catching herself in such a daydream, its meaning impressed itself on her forcibly: admit it or not, she yearned for his company. Sternly she reminded herself that humanity had always dreamed, and that there madness lay; effective action demanded realism, and the man who believes he can fly from one tree to the next ends up in a broken heap on the ground. In any case, her idealised conversations with Darcy were in no way similar to their usual exchanges, which had been devoted mostly to quarrelling.
Having expected a regular flow of letters from Helena Kaye, Elizabeth was concerned when several weeks passed with no communication. She longed for reassurance that Helena was being well-treated, and that the evils at Wistham Court were being righted, but was embarrassed to pose these queries directly. She composed a light-hearted letter consisting mostly of local news, including preparations for the wedding, added full directions to Longbourn just to make sure, and sent it to Wistham Court with a copy to Lord Harbury’s residence in Birdcage Walk. Another week passed, before finally the reply came.
Wistham Court
Dear Elizabeth,
Thank you so much for your amusing letter, and I’m relieved to hear that your bruises are nearly gone. I know you will be cross with me for not writing, and apologise most sincerely.
When you left, I fell ill, and had to stay in bed at my uncle’s house for a fortnight. The physician called every day and bled me several times. I felt feeble, and was racked by guilt that I had disobeyed father and shamed the family. Uncle was kind, and spent many hours at my bedside talking of my mother. He said that as a child she was quiet, like me, and loved acting. They had a miniature theatre with puppets on rods which you could control from the wings. They used to make up dramas, and perform them to the family, or sometimes to the servants.
I kept asking whether there was news of Lucy Clover. Uncle said I had to be patient, and I could see from his expression that it was probably hopeless. I felt dejected about this, but slowly I began to recover and think less about father.
One day uncle showed me a letter from a man named Mr Broome whom he has appointed as steward at Wistham Court. It confirmed that all the requested changes had been made, and that I was welcome to return once my health was restored. I was eager to do this, for as you know, I have always preferred countryside to town. Next day I was much stronger and got up from my sick bed.
I am now back at Wistham and have never felt better! Mr Broome is always kind to me, but I am kept up-to-date by Agnes. She hears all the gossip through Harte, who has been reinstated as groom. It seems that when Mr Broome took over, Mr Pritchett and Mr McGill had already fled. The other servants in Mr Pritchett’s confidence remained behind, and were pardoned, since they acted under his instructions. I agreed that Mrs Partridge, and Mr and Mrs Baines, should remain in their positions, and they are now particularly attentive to me! But the groom Perkins has left, and so has the under-gamekeeper Billy Watts, who is at home recovering from a fractured ankle.
I have some news of Arthur, who has signed a private agreement under which he receives an allowance from the estate on condition that he stays away from Wistham. He remains at his London home in Tudor Street, and is reported to have found solace in religion. He scarcely ever goes to his club as he used to, but passes the day in solitude and contemplation, reads the Bible assiduously, and attends every church service. Uncle is encouraged by these developments, but says we should remain wary in case they are only temporary.
In the same letter (received today) uncle also reports the wonderful news that Lucy Clover has been found, and can return to Wistham with Mr Broome next time he visits London! Unfortunately she cannot return as my maid. She has become very weak and thin, and they think she is with child. She will live with her mother, and not return to service. However, I’m overjoyed she has been found safe, and will be happy to continue with Agnes.
Thank you for all you have done for us, and I hope we will soon meet again.
Ever your grateful friend, Helena
Elizabeth finished this letter with pleasure, perhaps even a little pride, but the relief was short-lived, and her spirits remained delicate and often melancholy.
Chapter 35
On a cloudy afternoon in early December, Elizabeth was reading in the drawing room when she heard the grind of carriage wheels in the forecourt. Puzzled, she glanced at the clock. Jane, accompanied by Kitty and Mrs Bennet, was away shopping in Meryton, a regular occurrence now that the wedding was just a week away. Unless they had displayed unusual dispatch, they could hardly be back already. A minute later Mrs Hill tapped on the door, and announced:
‘Gentleman to see you, madam.’
Elizabeth’s heart missed a beat. Could it be …? She jumped up as Mrs Hill showed in a gentleman holding a flat rectangular parcel in one hand, and after a moment of confusion Elizabeth recognised Thomas Beaumont, Bridget’s husband.
‘Mr Beaumont!’ She curtsied, almost as an afterthought, before blurting out: ‘What brings you to these parts?’
‘Special delivery from London,’ Beaumont replied with a smile. ‘Item one, your trunk, which is now being unloaded by my driver. Item two, this gift, which I have been requested to pass on to you.’ He laid the parcel carefully on a side-table. ‘May I?’
Still in confusion, Elizabeth watched as he removed the brown paper, revealing a painting that she recognised as a view of the church from Coleorton Green.
‘There!’ He held it up for her to view properly. ‘Do you recognise the hand?’
‘Of course! Mr Constable. But why …’
‘When Mr Constable left Coleorton, he stacked a number of canvasses in the studio, to be boxed and sent on later. A few days later he wrote to my cousin Sir George Beaumont, requesting that this particular sketch be separated from the rest as a present for Bridget’s friend Miss Bennet.’
‘Thank you so much.’ Momentarily entranced by the loveliness of the painting, Elizabeth suddenly woke up to the practicalities of the situation. ‘But Mr Beaumont, you should not have come so far on my account. You could have left the trunk with my uncle and aunt in London, to be brought here next time they visited.’
‘It is no inconvenience. We are bound for Leicestershire again for Christmas, and this route through Hertfordshire is as good as any.’
Elizabeth gasped. ‘T
hen Bridget …’
‘My wife is outside in the carriage with Georgie.’
Elizabeth looked away, trying to mask her disappointment. ‘She wishes to avoid me.’
‘On the contrary, she is afraid that you wish to avoid her.’
‘Then let us fetch her!’ Elizabeth ran to the door, then caught herself and turned back to her guest. ‘Excuse me, Mr Beaumont. Perhaps you would prefer to go yourself, while I arrange refreshments.’
‘Lizzy?’ Mr Bennet, who had been reading in his study, put his head round the door. ‘Hill tells me we have visitors.’
‘Indeed father. May I present Mr Thomas Beaumont. I would like, if I may, to invite his family to join us. They are presently outside in the carriage.’
Mr Bennet greeted this news with an amused shrug. ‘Oh well, the more the merrier, I suppose.’
In the forecourt Elizabeth spotted Georgie, running around under the watchful eye of a nanny, but no sign of Bridget. Wrapping her shawl a little tighter, she ran over to the carriage and looked inside. In the far corner Bridget watched with a nervous frown as Elizabeth climbed in and pulled the door shut.
They regarded each other for a few seconds, each trying to make the other out, before Elizabeth said:
‘Have you decided to forgive me?’
Bridget grimaced. ‘Perhaps it is you that should forgive me.’
Elizabeth spread her arms. ‘I was not myself, Bridget. I was obsessed with Mr Darcy’s predicament to the exclusion of every other consideration.’
‘To good effect, from what I hear.’ Bridget dealt her a suspicious glance. ‘Why did you leave Coleorton so early in the morning?’
‘To avoid another confrontation.’
‘In doing so you also avoided any possibility of reconciliation.’ Bridget sniffed. ‘After passing a sleepless night I was hoping we could at least part on better terms.’
‘How was I to know that? I didn’t sleep any better myself.’
‘I don’t understand why I was so severe.’ Bridget looked out of the window, smiling momentarily as Georgie scampered past. ‘I suppose it was because our friendship had meant so much to me. I’d never met someone like you before, with whom I could talk freely. To discover that you had been using me for another purpose was unbearable. I could have throttled you there and then.’
Elizabeth smiled. ‘I was soon to encounter others with similar designs. But more of that later.’ She pointed towards the house. ‘For heaven’s sake come inside where we can talk in the warm.’
After further introductions the gentlemen repaired to Mr Bennet’s study, leaving Elizabeth and Bridget alone in the drawing room. They talked in a corner in hushed voices, while Bridget hungrily attacked a plate of sandwiches which Cook had prepared to accompany tea and cakes.
Determined to nurture the small flame of friendship that had been rekindled, Elizabeth took pains to avoid any deceit, and accordingly gave Bridget the unabridged version of her story. Bridget listened in excitement, munching steadily on the sandwiches, but turned pale in shock and stopped eating when Elizabeth recounted the scene at the cottage where she had been assaulted by Arthur Kaye.
Afterwards she took Elizabeth’s hand, and said: ‘I had no idea it was so bad.’
‘What did you hear?’ Elizabeth asked, with some anxiety.
‘There was a rumour that you had appeared at the trial, with bruising on your face, and spoken in private with Lord Harbury, upon which the prosecution was mysteriously dropped. However, no-one had any convincing explanation of how this had happened, and some suggested that your presence was a coincidence, unrelated to the trial, and that you were merely a friend of Miss Kaye’s.’ She took a deep breath, shaking her head slowly. ‘You are an extraordinarily brave woman, Elizabeth. I am in awe of you.’
Tears formed in Elizabeth’s eyes. ‘Now you’re being ridiculous.’
Bridget gently pushed Elizabeth’s curls back from her forehead. ‘Was it here that you were struck? I still see a slight mark.’
‘In a way I’m sorry to lose the marks of war.’ Elizabeth grinned. ‘Perhaps I saw them as a badge of honour, like a duelling scar, which I believe is highly prized by the gentlemen.’
Bridget grimaced. ‘Before degenerating into your usual gammon, you might favour me with the rest of your story. What happened after the trial?’
‘I stayed overnight with Helena.’ Elizabeth met Bridget’s eye. ‘You understand of course that her abuse must remain an absolute secret, even from your husband. Nobody else knows except for Lord Harbury and myself.’ She coloured. ‘In fact, by telling you I have broken my promise to Lord Harbury …’
‘I suppose I should be honoured.’ Bridget’s face relaxed, and she continued: ‘But have no fear. Whatever else I may be, I am not an imbecile.’ Something seemed to strike her, and she asked, ‘And what of Mr D?’
Elizabeth shrugged. ‘I told him that I had a hold over the Kayes that I could not fully explain, without violating a confidence. This he accepted. What he refused to accept was my treatment at the hands of Sir Arthur Kaye.’
‘Which you conveniently forgot to mention prior to his signing the agreement?’
Elizabeth threw up her hands. ‘What else could I do? In a society run by madmen, only women can introduce a modicum of sanity, and the only means at our disposal is deceit.’
‘You explained this to Mr Darcy?’
‘Not quite in those words.’ Elizabeth’s voice dropped to a dejected whisper. ‘I have lost his affection, Bridget.’
Bridget held her hand again. ‘Are you sure of this?’
Elizabeth nodded. ‘The expression of distaste on his face was unmistakeable.’
‘So you have had no further dealings?’
‘None.’ Elizabeth sighed. ‘Not at any rate until next week, when we will both attend Jane’s wedding, myself as maid of honour, and Mr Darcy as best man.’ She looked up with tears in her eyes. ‘Even this joyful event is to be tarnished by the presence of that gentleman. Instead of looking forward to the occasion, I am dreading it.’
Bridget patted her hand, then leaned back. ‘And what of the Kayes?’
‘I have heard from Helena.’ Elizabeth’s face brightened. ‘That is the happiest outcome, since Helena is thriving. Lord Harbury has installed a certain Mr Broome, a man of his absolute trust, as steward of Wistham Court, and the new Broome is sweeping clean. Sir Arthur is exiled to his London home, and according to Helena’s latest report has found redemption in the Good Book. No longer are his days passed in gambling and drinking at the London clubs. He leaves home only to attend church, and devotes his time to meditation and repentance of his sins.’
Bridget raised her eyebrows. ‘One can see that this might take him some time. Is he still responsible for Miss Kaye?’
‘No, Helena has an independent allowance now, and divides her time between Wistham Court and Lord Harbury’s house in Birdcage Walk. She is planning to come out early next year, when the season gets under way.’
Bridget said admiringly, ‘You have saved her too.’
Elizabeth shook her head firmly. ‘In the end it was Helena who saved us all. Without her admission, I had no leverage over Lord Harbury, and the whole enterprise would have collapsed.’
‘In the event, it is you who have suffered.’ Bridget’s expression softened. ‘I’m sorry you have fallen out with Mr Darcy.’
‘We were never suited. We only fight like cats and dogs. Anyway, I am now unmarriageable. No gentleman wants to be paired with a dishonoured woman.’
‘I disagree!’ Bridget said this emphatically, then continued in a softer voice. ‘Your unpleasant experience is not generally known. There is no reason why you should not accept another offer, should a suitable one come your way.’
Elizabeth shook her head again. ‘Deceitful I may have been, but I’m not prepared to go that far. In any case, I have no need to marry, now that Jane will be settled. I enjoy both security and control over my life—why surrender this last advanta
ge by placing myself in ownership to a man? Like Dorothy Wordsworth, I can make myself useful to my sibling, while at the same time pursuing my own interests, which have recently turned to psychology, and in particular the formation of character.’
‘Gracious, how has this come about?’
‘I have been fascinated by Helena Kaye, and to some extent her brother. She once confided that even after Sir Osborne’s death, she feels his voice inside her, and continues to judge herself by his demands. I cannot tell you how this observation has haunted me. Are we all like this? Is every human soul really a society of internalised personalities? I ask myself whether my beliefs and values are really my own, or whether they have been somehow implanted, and may even act against my own interests.’
Bridget whistled. ‘This is really profound, Elizabeth.’
‘Now you are laughing at me,’ Elizabeth smiled.
‘Not at all. We could discuss it further one day …’ Bridget paused, lifting her head, ‘provided that you wish to remain my friend, of course.’
‘Hmm.’ Elizabeth eyed Bridget appraisingly, keeping her in suspense, until they both dissolved into giggles and embraced.
Chapter 36
Meryton Church was packed for the wedding. Waiting outside with Jane, while Mrs Bennet fussed with last-minute alterations to their gowns, Elizabeth watched the staff from Longbourn and Netherfield file past, along with prominent local families such as the Lucases. With reluctance an invitation had been sent to Wickham and Lydia, but it transpired that Wickham’s regiment was on alert for the impending war with Spain; in any case, with other demands on their purse, the couple could scarcely afford the journey. Fortunately this meant that Georgiana could attend, and as she entered the church in the company of Colonel Fitzwilliam, she paused a moment to enfold Elizabeth in a warm embrace.
At last all was ready, and when the organist struck up the processional, Jane entered with two Gardiner bridesmaids holding her train and Elizabeth following behind. At the altar Bingley awaited, impatiently fidgeting and taking occasional glances over his shoulder; beside him Elizabeth recognised the tall statuesque figure of Darcy.
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