A Quest for Mr Darcy

by Cassandra Grafton

  With a frown, Darcy closed the book and put it aside as his cousin retook his seat. ‘What makes you say so?’

  ‘I have seen that besotted look on your face before, Darce. About eighteen months ago; in Kent.’

  ~o0o~

  The strong winds continued into the night, and Elizabeth was pulled from a fitful sleep peppered with dreams by a sudden noise outside, followed by faint squawking from the hen house tucked away at the side of the building.

  For a moment, she lay on her back, her lids sufficiently heavy to persuade her back into slumber, but the noise continued, and she swung her legs out of bed and walked over to the window. It was not the first time the hens had been disturbed at night, not with Mr Fox a frequent visitor!

  Easing back one of the shutters, she peered into the darkness, but it was so complete there was nothing to be seen. With a shrug, she closed the shutter again, relieved the hens seemed to be settling, and hurried back to her bed.

  The damage had been done, however. Now she could think only of what had preyed upon her mind before drifting off to sleep: her reacquaintance with Mr Darcy.

  Rolling onto her side, Elizabeth drew in a shallow breath. Where might all this lead? She struggled to overcome the disturbance of her peace of mind, the wish to see Mr Darcy every day, the enjoyment of his company... she almost laughed aloud at the perversity of such a thought. Why did her insides swirl whenever his name was mentioned, and likewise why was her envy roused by the notion of his marrying the faceless Miss Latimer?

  You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you. The words floated through her tired mind, and her heart clenched in her chest. He had loved her, and only her, once.

  ‘I do not want him to speak so to another,’ she whispered into the darkness, then closed her eyes, only to find the image of Mr Darcy speaking those words replaying itself against her lids. Conscious of a tightness gripping her throat, Elizabeth rolled onto her other side, certain she would find no rest this night, but soon weariness overtook her. As sleep finally came to claim her, a tear fell softly from her lashes, rolling slowly down her cheek to her pillow.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Darcy stared into the full-length mirror in his dressing room as Thornton put the finishing touches to his attire. His air and countenance, much as he anticipated, were reflective of his inner turmoil.

  His cousin had an unnerving ability to strip away pretence, and through a long and restless night, Darcy had owned that which he had fought against for the past week: the resurgence of his love for Elizabeth Bennet. Was there hope for them? Could he somehow improve her opinion of him sufficiently, inspire an interest, even a little affection?

  On Thornton’s leaving the room, Darcy took a step closer to the mirror. What did she see when she looked at him? Was it still the arrogant man of the year eleven, the one who had slighted her in such a public way? Was it—even worse—the man whose character she had torn apart whilst soundly rejecting him? Or were things sufficiently altered for Elizabeth to see him afresh, as his cousin had suggested?

  Darcy had certainly endeavoured to heed her words, for they had haunted him long enough. He had known himself to be a good master, a fair landlord, but beyond this, he had not cared for how else he was perceived. She had humbled him; shown him his wealth and consequence counted for little if he could not extend the courtesy and respect he showed to his family and his close circle of friends to the world in general.

  Had she seen this improvement in him, in his treatment of those around him since their reacquaintance? Or was it still insufficient to supplant her memories of him or overcome the disservice he had done her family by not warning them against Wickham?

  The mirror held no answers to his questions, and with a frustrated sigh, Darcy turned about and headed out of the room. A fast gallop across the fields was the only cure for such interminable thoughts, and the sooner he gained his mount and fresh air, the better.

  ~o0o~

  Mr Bennet frowned as Elizabeth passed him a fresh cup of tea across the table. ‘You are pale, Lizzy. I hope it is not your turn to sicken for something.’

  Elizabeth shook her head. ‘I am quite well, Papa. My sleep was disturbed, that is all. The hens were wild for something in the night. I assume it was Mr Fox come to call.’

  Alice, who was clearing the breakfast table, grunted. ‘Then if ‘twas so, he has tastes and talent no other such creature possesses.’

  Mr Bennet exchanged a smile with his daughters. ‘How so, Alice?’

  The housekeeper laid the tray aside and came to stand before her master. ‘The fox chases the hen, sir, not the eggs, to my knowledge. Besides, he needs four legs to run on, not two spare to carry his catch, and I have yet to see a fox as can hold eggs in its paws and make good his escape.’

  ‘You have lost me, Alice.’ Mr Bennet picked up his cup, but the lady had not finished.

  ‘Broken eggs, sir; a trail of them back to the shrubbery. Whatever was distressing those hens last night was no fox, you mark my words.’

  With that, she picked up her tray and left the room, but Elizabeth chewed her lip thoughtfully. So she had not been mistaken about sensing someone’s presence yesterday.

  ‘What do you think she means, Papa?’ Jane looked to Mr Bennet, and he put down his cup again.

  ‘Petty theft?’ He shrugged. ‘I have heard tales of it occasionally in the district. It cannot be avoided when there are insufficient provisions, but I have seen little of poverty here and doubt very much it is a tenant or labourer of the estate.’

  Elizabeth placed her napkin on the table, her skin tingling much as it had each time she had sensed someone nearby.

  ‘Papa, there is something. I have felt as though someone was out there... watching us.’

  Mr Bennet frowned. ‘When was this?’

  ‘I think the first time was last week, when Jane and I were in the garden, but then it happened again after church on Sunday.’

  ‘So in Kympton, not here?’

  ‘Yes, but...’ The prickling of Elizabeth’s skin intensified as she met her father’s concerned gaze. ‘Yesterday, I went back into the garden to fetch our things before taking tea with the Bingleys. I felt the sensation again, but when I walked to the place where I thought someone stood, I saw only the thicket. And then,’ she shuddered. ‘Then, I heard movement, though not towards me. I think whoever or whatever it was made haste to leave.’

  Mr Bennet had paled, but his gaze was firm upon his daughter. ‘Henceforth, you are not to go wandering off alone, Lizzy.’

  Dismayed, Elizabeth wished she had not spoken. ‘But Papa!’

  ‘No ‘buts’ if you please! Your safety—and yours, Jane—are of paramount importance to me. Do not be stubborn in this, Elizabeth; and you are not to walk up on Curbar Edge for the time being, either.’

  Mr Bennet got to his feet, dropping his napkin on the table. ‘I am going to speak to Higgins, ask him to scour the shrubbery and to check the boundary for any evidence of intrusion.’

  He left the room, and with a sigh, Elizabeth got to her feet. She felt weary from lack of sleep, and a brisk walk up on Curbar Edge would have been just the thing to blow away her lowness of spirit.

  ‘Papa was hasty in his return yesterday, was he not?’ Elizabeth turned around to look at Jane, who was staring at the closed door. ‘He must barely have arrived in Buxton before turning back.’

  As Jane got to her feet, Elizabeth recalled her surprise on their father joining them in the drawing room during the Bingleys’ visit. ‘Perhaps his business was more rapidly concluded than he anticipated?’

  Before Jane could respond, a tap on the door heralded Alice bearing a note, which she handed to Elizabeth. ‘Just came from Pemberley, Miss Lizzy.’ She gave Elizabeth a knowing look and turned her attention to clearing the rest of the table.

  Almost laughing at her sudden hope it might be from a certain gentleman, Elizabeth noted the hand of his sister, and opened it quickly.

  ‘
It is from Miss Darcy—she wishes me to join her at Pemberley this morning, to walk whilst the twins go riding.’ Elizabeth felt conflicted and vulnerable. Miss Darcy had touched very closely upon Elizabeth’s connection to her brother. Could she withstand another such onslaught? And what of Mr Darcy? Did she wish to indulge her desire to see him, or did she not, for fear he might detect the depth of her growing interest in him? Truly, she knew not!

  ‘Then you must take the carriage, Miss Lizzy. The master has said you are not to walk alone until he says so.’ Alice paused as she left the room. ‘I shall order it to be brought about for when you are ready.’

  ~o0o~

  ‘So, Cousin; have you given any more thought to our conversation last night?’

  Waylaid by the colonel, who insisted on joining him on his ride, Darcy did not speak as he led the way from the boot room out into the grounds. He had no wish to divulge just how much thought he had given to the matter.

  ‘I am at your service, old chap,’ his cousin continued, ‘Anything I can do to—‘

  ‘I do not need your help, Fitzwilliam!’ Darcy threw him an exasperated look, and the colonel eyed Darcy frankly as he joined him on the gravel path.

  ‘You need someone’s!’

  Darcy turned on his heel and walked on, but his cousin kept pace beside him.

  ‘When does Latimer arrive? And what of the other family you invited?’

  ‘Hansen, his wife and two daughters are due to join us the following week, according to the original arrangement. It was only Latimer who wished to bring his visit forward.’

  The colonel grunted. ‘I wonder why that might have been!’

  Darcy did not answer, merely increasing his pace and soon they were walking through the gateway out onto the sweep leading to the stable block.

  The colonel grabbed Darcy’s arm. ‘Face it, man! You cannot marry Miss Latimer!’

  Darcy stopped and stared out across the grounds. He had thought hard and long all through the night on his conversation with his cousin and, with the light of dawn had come realisation: he was right. There was duty borne of sense and wisdom, and there was duty followed blindly for duty's sake. He had become guilty of the latter since his return to England.

  He turned to his cousin. ‘No—I cannot. But it does not mean I can then—,’ he stopped, then shook his head as the colonel made to speak. ‘You must let me deal with it in my own way.’

  They turned about as two stable lads walked their mounts over to the block, and once they had each gained their seats, Darcy led the way onto the bridle path skirting the river. What was he to do now? He had once followed only his heart, overruling the sense in his head. Now he had been in danger of doing the opposite!

  ‘What will you do?’

  Darcy glanced at his cousin as he drew level with him.

  ‘There is little to be done before I have made things clear to Latimer.’

  ‘Had you discussed your intentions with him?’

  ‘Never. Nor with the lady.’ Releasing a frustrated breath, Darcy turned to face his cousin. ‘But my attentions to Miss Latimer may have given rise to a general expectation of marriage.’

  To his surprise, the colonel merely shrugged. ‘And did you not say almost those same words about your friend and Miss Bennet once? A general expectation is not binding, it is merely the tattletales leaping ahead with their wild imaginations. Only your words can bind you irrevocably to Miss Latimer or her father, not those of the gossiping ton.’ The colonel snorted. ‘If the disappointment of their expectations is sufficient to drive the Latimers away, to feel the connection with Pemberley and yourself no loss, then you will be well rid of them.’

  ‘Yet I must speak with Latimer before anything else can even be thought of.’

  ‘Can you not forestall the visit entirely?’

  Darcy shook his head. ‘It is too late. They will have left Town already and plan to be here Monday; besides, I would not do Mrs Latimer the discourtesy when any expectations she may have had of settling her daughter are to be disappointed.’

  ‘I suspect they will not linger once you have made your position clear.’

  Darcy urged his mount into a canter and the colonel followed him. ‘And what, then, of Miss Elizabeth Bennet?’

  What indeed. Was he genuinely considering such a thing? His first attempts at wooing the lady had gone horribly awry. Would he fare any better at a second? How could he show her he was worthy of her regard? How might he earn it?

  The colonel reached over and grabbed Darcy’s reins, drawing his attention, and they slowed their mounts to a halt.

  ‘This is hardly what constitutes going for a ride, Fitzwilliam!’ Darcy threw him a frustrated look.

  ‘This is more pressing than any exercise. Do you recall the summer of the year twelve, and your confession of all that had transpired between you and Miss Bennet?’

  ‘Of course I do!’

  ‘Then you will also recall telling me how shocked you were to realise the lady seemed to have no notion of your interest in her. That though you believed yourself to be blatantly courting her, you had, in fact, done nothing but isolate Miss Bennet even further.’

  ‘What is your point?’

  Serious now, the colonel placed a hand on Darcy’s arm. ‘Do not make the same mistake. If you wish to consider Miss Elizabeth Bennet once more, she must be in no doubt of the nature of your feelings.’

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Jane and Elizabeth repaired to the sitting room overlooking the garden to finish their tea, and the latter found her gaze drawn across the lawns to the shrubbery. The wind had dropped entirely now, and nothing stirred.

  ‘Come with me to Pemberley, Jane?’

  Jane shook her head. ‘The invitation was for you alone, Lizzy. Besides, had you forgotten Mr Wentworth’s note saying he would call this morning on Papa? I must prepare a basket for Mrs Thatcher whilst he is here.’

  Elizabeth turned away from the window with a smile. ‘No; but I did wonder if, despite your words yesterday, you might wish for a chance to see Mr Bingley again?’

  With a laugh, Jane got up and walked over to join her sister. ‘I stand by what I said. Mr Bingley was pleasing company when he called, but that is all. Besides, if the twins are to ride, he is certain to accompany them.’

  Elizabeth took her sister’s hand. ‘I do not mean to imply anything, Jane. Forgive my teasing?’

  ‘There is nothing to forgive. Besides, you will think badly enough of me if I tell you what I feel about my present situation.’

  ‘Never!’ Elizabeth laughed. ‘How could anyone think badly of you?’

  Jane turned to look out of the window. ‘Then be prepared for something quite shocking: whilst I would wish no ill upon a living soul, and I will miss Lydia and Mama always, there is little else I mourn of our former life in Hertfordshire.’

  Elizabeth sighed. ‘I share some of those sentiments; I find it quite unsettling how attached I have become to... Derbyshire.’ Conscious of warmth in her cheeks, she was thankful her sister continued to look out of the window.

  ‘So much has happened, Lizzy. Perchance, had I remained at home—at Longbourn—with continued time to reflect and regret, it would be different. My initial attachment to Mr Bingley may have lingered yet.’ She turned back to her sister. ‘But I am altered by the change in our circumstances. Moreover, I feel liberated from the expectations Mama had of me to marry well for our fortune’s sake, for my sisters, for her own sake, that she could boast of it; for everyone’s sake but my own.’ She smiled faintly. ‘Do you think me selfish?’

  ‘No! No, Jane. We all were selfish, not just Mama.’

  ‘Our situation was—is such, as means we must find an establishment. Yet I no longer feel I must consider wealth, connections and a place in society of equal consequence to love. I feel now I have a choice in where to place my heart. Perhaps it is this which prevents me falling in love with Mr Wentworth.’ Her air sobered. ‘Mr Bingley once held my heart. I know what it
is to feel love. I admire Mr Wentworth; I highly esteem him, and wealth and status matter little to him; but I do not love him, and I shall not settle for less.’

  ‘You have known what it is to love, you comprehend the difference. Whereas I...’ Elizabeth stopped. ‘Jane, how would you feel if you heard Mr Bingley had made an offer of marriage to another?’

  Jane met Elizabeth’s gaze frankly, though a little colour had entered her cheeks. ‘I would wish him well; I would be happy for him.’

  Disgruntled, Elizabeth walked over to place her now empty cup on the dresser. ‘Then it is your turn to think badly of me; I do not wish Mr Darcy well with his Miss Latimer!’

  ‘Lizzy!’ Jane came to stand by her side. ‘That is unfair on Mr Darcy.’

  ‘Aye; it is. I am sure she is a perfectly amiable creature and they will do very well together.’

  Jane studied her sister intently for a moment. ‘Do you think... is there a chance you are—?’

  'No!' Elizabeth threw her sister an appalled look, her insides doing somersaults. ‘No,’ she whispered. ‘It cannot be.’ In that direction lay nothing but despair and heartache.

  'Lizzy?'

  Elizabeth forced a smile. ‘I must away, Jane. The carriage will be waiting, and so will Miss Darcy.’

  With that, she made haste to leave the room, though why she was in quite such a hurry to escape her sister’s understanding look she knew not. If there was one place she wished she did not have to go just now, it was to spend time at Pemberley in the company of a Darcy!

  ~o0o~

  A quick gallop across the fields ensued, before the colonel decided to ride on into Lambton, and Darcy turned back for the stables, returning to the house through the kitchen – a childhood habit he maintained in adulthood when he had been out riding. On this occasion, he found Mrs Marchant, the cook, removing a tray of baking from the oven and managed to steal a scone from her, along with a hastily brewed cup of tea. Sitting on the scrubbed, wooden table he munched away, listening to Mrs Reynolds’ gentle scolding when she discovered him in the kitchen and distracting her by asking after her grandchildren.