by Zoe Carter
‘I am glad you have recovered from your headache, Lizzy,’ said Charlotte the following morning. ‘You look much brighter today. I was quite worried about you yesterday. Are you truly feeling better?’
‘Yes, I am, thank you,’ said Elizabeth. ‘I feel much better.’
It was the truth. She had recovered from the shock of finding out for certain that Mr Darcy had separated her sister from Mr Bingley, and she consoled herself with the idea that her holiday was almost at an end. Soon she would be returning to her aunt’s house in London, where she would no longer have to see Mr Darcy, and after that she would be going home to Longbourn.
‘Then are you willing to come with us to visit the parishioners today as usual?’ asked Charlotte.
‘Yes, Charlotte, indeed I am. I am looking forward to it.’
Elizabeth had spend much of her time helping Charlotte, and visiting the parishioners was something she truly enjoyed. Her lively, affectionate, humorous personality had quickly won her lots of friends in the local village and she was a great favourite there.
‘I thought I would go and see Mr Pringle and Miss Trent and Maria can go and see Mrs Unwin, if you will go and see Mr Long and Mrs Roberts,’ said Charlotte. ‘If we separate we can spend more time with each of them, and as they are lonely I am sure they will appreciate it.’
‘A good idea,’ said Elizabeth.
They often shared the work, visiting a few parishioners each, and it was an arrangement that worked well.
The put on their outdoor garments, tying their bonnets under their chins and fastening their cloaks about their shoulders. Then they picked up their baskets, which were full of food and medicines for the poor, and set off.
It was a beautiful morning for a walk. There was a light breeze and a cheery sun. The trees were just starting to have a haze of green about the bare branches, showing that winter was nearing its end and spring was well on its way. Some of the trees were in blossom and there were lambs gambolling in the fields.
Elizabeth swung her basket as she walked and rejoiced in the fresh air. She was an outdoor girl by nature and she loved to be in the open air, especially on such a lovely morning.
Their way took them past the church, where Mr Collins was instructing the verger on that week’s duties. Then it took them past the gates of Rosings Park, where no doubt Lady Catherine and her guests were just getting out of bed. And then it took them into the village, a pretty cluster of cottages around a village green. The cottages were thatched and there were climbing roses around the door, although at the moment the flowers themselves were not in bloom. But the bare branches held the promise of them, and the leaves appearing on the branches spoke of the summer to come.
When they reached the village green, the three young ladies went their separate ways. Charlotte turned left, Maria went ahead and Elizabeth turned right, but not before arranging to meet in the same spot two hours hence.
Elizabeth visited Mr Long first, leaving Mrs Roberts for last. The old lady was a favourite of hers, and they had spent many happy hours talking and laughing together. Mrs Roberts had come to the neighbourhood some five years before, to nurse Miss Anne de Bourgh, who had not been well at the time. She had since retired and been given a pension and a cottage in the village by Lady Catherine. Lady Catherine was a vain and superior woman, who demanded obeisance from those around her, but she had a strong sense of duty and always made sure her dependents were properly cared for.
Mrs Roberts suffered from lumbago and Elizabeth had brought her some new ointment, as well as some tasty treats from the kitchen.
‘How are you this morning?’ asked Elizabeth, as she went into the cottage.
She spoke in a loud voice, for Mrs Roberts was rather deaf.
‘All the better for seeing you, dearie!’ said Mrs Roberts.
Her old face crinkled into many lovely wrinkles as a broad smile lit up her face. They somehow made her look younger, as they spoke of lots of laughter and happiness instead of just old age. Her eyes were bright and her voice was welcoming.
She was dressed in a grey gown that had a patch at the hem, but it was clean and respectable. On her head she wore a white cap, tied under her chin. A shawl was round her shoulders to keep her warm, and she had a blanket over her knees.
Elizabeth set her basket on the table and emptied out all the good things inside. Then she made Mrs Roberts a drink before tidying the cottage. It had only one living room, but the oak beams and the whitewashed walls made it very attractive. There was a rustic table and chairs and by the fire was a rocking chair. There were various nick nacks scattered around, presents from the children Mrs Roberts had nursed before caring for Miss Anne de Bourgh. Over the fireplace was a sampler of a sweet little house, and several childish watercolours hung on the opposite wall.
Once Elizabeth had made the room tidy again, she made a cup of tea for the pair of them and then sat down to talk. She knew that, although Mrs Roberts appreciated the things Elizabeth brought, it was company she really wanted.
After the obligatory discussion about Mrs Roberts’s health the conversation moved on to other things. Then Mrs Roberts startled Elizabeth by saying, ‘I hear Mr Darcy paid you a visit yesterday at the rectory when Mr and Mrs Collins were out.’
‘How did you hear that?’ asked Elizabeth in astonishment.
She knew that Mrs Roberts hardly ever left the house.
‘The Collins’s servant used to work at Rosings Park when I was caring for Anne there. She pops in to see me from time to time.’
‘And such a splendid piece of gossip could not be kept to herself!’ said Elizabeth with a laugh in her voice, for she knew how people liked to talk.
If it had been pampered ladies talking about it she would have been disdainful. But as it was an elderly lady who could not get out, and who had genuinely warm feelings for her, she did not mind. In fact, she was glad Mrs Roberts had had something to take her mind off her aches and pains.
‘I was engaged to go to tea at Rosings Park but I could not go as I had a headache,; said Elizabeth. ‘Mr Darcy came to bring me Lady Catherine’s best wishes for a speedy recovery, that is all’
‘Poppycock!’
Mrs Roberts spoke so forcefully that Elizabeth was taken aback and looked at her, startled.
‘What do you mean, poppycock?’ asked Elizabeth.
‘You know very well what I mean, dearie,’ said Mrs Roberts, looking at her searchingly. ‘I mean that Mr Darcy wouldn’t take the trouble to walk down to the rectory so that he could give the rector’s guest his aunt’s good wishes.’
Elizabeth gurgled with laughter as it bubbled up from inside her.
‘I thought the same thing!’ she confessed. ‘If you must know, I think he wanted an excuse to get away from his aunt for a while! She is a forceful woman, and I think Mr Darcy finds her company somewhat trying.’
Mrs Roberts looked at her consideringly, with her head on one side and her bright eyes fixed on Elizabeth.
‘Is that what you really think?’ she asked.
‘What else could it be?’ asked Elizabeth. ‘You said yourself that the great Mr Darcy would not condescend to visit the rectory for the trifling reason he put forward.’
Mrs Roberts took a sip of the tea Elizabeth had made her. She then put the cup carefully back in the saucer and said, ‘It could be a lot of other things.’
‘Name them,’ Elizabeth challenged her.
She was glad the trifling incident had provided Mrs Roberts with so much pleasure and so much to think about.
‘It could be because he wanted to see you,’ said Mrs Roberts.
‘See me? Why should Mr Darcy want to see me? Unless it was to find some fault in me. I know that Mr Darcy loves to criticise me, but I do not think he would go to such lengths to find something he did not like about me.’
‘No, dearie, not to find fault with you, but to admire you,’ said Mrs Roberts, leaning forward and patting Elizabeth on the knee.
‘Admire!’ Eli
zabeth was even more astonished. Then her gurgle of laughter gave way to outright mirth and she laughed and laughed, wiping tears from her eyes.
‘What’s so funny?’ asked Mrs Roberts.
‘Mr Darcy, admire me! Why, he cannot find one thing he likes about me!’ said Elizabeth through her laughter. ‘The very first time we met he said I was not handsome enough to tempt him to dance, and then things went from bad to worse. Do you know, when we met at Netherfield Park, he derided me by asking me if I wanted to dance a reel.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with a reel. I used to dance it myself in my younger days,’ said Mrs Roberts, with a sigh of fond memory.
‘Of course there is nothing wrong with it, but can you see Mr Darcy dancing a reel? It is not a dance for high society, and he was putting me in my place by assuming it was a dance I would enjoy. He was telling me I had low tastes.’
‘It was rather naughty of him, but maybe you had been teasing him?’ asked Mrs Roberts.
Elizabeth thought it odd that Mrs Roberts should refer to Mr Darcy as naughty – surely not the right word for such an impressive gentleman – but she let it pass, especially as Mrs Roberts had given her food for thought. She had been teasing Mr Darcy. Perhaps, instead of being rude, he had just been teasing her in return. It was a new thought and not a very welcome one. She had become used to disliking Mr Darcy and she did not want to abandon her dislike of him, especially not because of Mrs Roberts’s chance remark.
‘He’d only take the trouble of walking down to the rectory if he admired you,’ said Mrs Roberts.
‘You sound like Charlotte! She is always saying that Mr Darcy admires me, but I can assure you, you are both wrong,’ said Elizabeth. ‘Did you not hear me say that he insulted me at our first meeting?’
‘Yes, I heard you, but people can change their minds, dearie. First impressions don’t always stay the same. Sometimes they change.’
‘That is true, but in this case I can assure you that Mr Darcy does not admire me, nor like me in any way.’
‘That’s a pity. I think you’d make a very good mistress for Pemberley,’ said Mrs Roberts.
‘Mistress of Pemberley! Oh, Mrs Roberts, how you make me laugh! I see what you are doing, you are paying me back for teasing you about Mr Harris the baker.’ Mr Harris was very fond of Mrs Roberts, and Elizabeth had several times teased Mrs Roberts in a good-natured way about his attentions. She could not resist the opportunity for some further teasing – especially as it would turn the subject away from Mr Darcy. ‘I cannot pass the bakery without Mr Harris giving me some little delicacy for you.’
‘And I’m always glad to have the biscuits and cakes. I like you teasing me about Mr Harris, dearie. I know he likes me, and I like him. Maybe one day he’ll find the courage to come and visit me himself.’ She looked at Elizabeth and said, ‘Just like Mr Darcy found the courage to come and visit you yesterday.’
‘You will be telling me next he came to propose!’ laughed Elizabeth.
‘Perhaps he did,’ said Mrs Roberts. ‘I think you’d suit each other very well. I’d like to see you married to him.’
‘Well I would not,’ retorted Elizabeth. ‘Mr Darcy is the last man in the world I could ever be prevailed on to marry.’
As she spoke, her voice became colder and her laughter subsided, for she was thinking of Mr Darcy’s many sins and they made her angry.
‘Just because he slighted you?’ asked Mrs Roberts, pulling her shawl around her old shoulders.
‘Oh, no, that was nothing compared to what came later.’
‘His teasing about dancing a reel, you mean?’ asked Mrs Roberts.
‘Nothing so trivial,’ said Elizabeth.
By now, all laughter had gone from her and her mood was dark.
‘You look angry,’ said Mrs Roberts. ‘What did he do that made him lose your good opinion of him, dearie?’
Elizabeth looked Mrs Roberts in the eye and said seriously, ‘He broke my sister’s heart.’
‘Tut-tut.’ Mrs Roberts folded her hands in her lap and nodded. ‘So that’s it. But he couldn’t help your sister falling in love with him, and he couldn’t help it if he didn’t return her feelings. Unless you’re saying he played fast and loose with your sister’s affections and deliberately led her on? I find that hard to believe.’
‘You misunderstand me,’ said Elizabeth. ‘My sister did not fall in love with him. She has far too much sense to fall in love with such a stuffed shirt. She fell in love with his friend, Mr Bingley, a charming and delightful young gentleman. Mr Bingley is everything Mr Darcy is not: kind, good-humoured, cheerful, pleasant – altogether the perfect husband for my sister, who is the sweetest girl in existence. They made a lovely couple and it was clear they were falling in love with each other. Mr Bingley was on the point of proposing when he had to go to London for a few days on a matter of business. His family followed him to London and detained him there.’
‘I don’t see how that’s Mr Darcy’s fault.’
‘Mr Darcy was behind it. He did not want Mr Bingley to marry my sister. He wanted Mr Bingley to marry his sister.’
‘So that’s it.’ Mrs Roberts picked up her teacup and lifted it to her old lips, draining the last sips. ‘And did Mr Bingley truly love your sister?’
‘I know he did.’
‘And she loved him?’
‘With all her heart,’ said Elizabeth passionately. ‘She should have been a happily married woman by now, instead of which she is an object of pity, or worse – derision – for disappointed hopes. My poor, dear Jane, who is the loveliest girl imaginable, to be made miserable by that pompous, superior, arrogant . . . I will not even call him a gentleman . . . man!’
‘Dear, dear, this is very bad,’ said Mrs Roberts, shaking her head with a frown.
‘It gets worse,’ Elizabeth said. ‘My sister went to stay with my aunt in London some weeks later. She called on Miss Bingley, who had sought out my sister and made a friend of her in Hertfordshire, but Miss Bingley kept making excuses as to why she could not see her.’
‘Shocking,’ admitted Mrs Roberts. ‘But that can’t be laid at Mr Darcy’s door?’
‘He knew my sister was in town, but he kept the knowledge from his friend. It was deceitful, low cunning, and unworthy of anyone who has pretensions to be a man, let alone a gentleman.’
‘I can see he’s a lot of work to do if he’s to convince you he’s worth knowing, let alone worth marrying.’
‘He can never convince me of either of those things,’ said Elizabeth. ‘But enough of Mr Darcy. Let us talk of something more agreeable. Even Mr Collins will do!’
Mrs Roberts looked doubtful but at last she allowed Elizabeth to turn the conversation and it moved on to other things.
Standing outside the cottage, Mr Darcy was rooted to the spot. He had set out that morning to visit his old nurse, for Mrs Roberts had nursed him, and his sister Georgiana, before going to look after Anne at Rosings. He had brought her some flowers from the Rosings hot houses and he had been about to go into the cottage when he had heard voices inside and realised Mrs Roberts had company. He had hesitated for a moment, thinking it would be better to go back later so that she should have company throughout the day, rather than all at once, and in his moments of hesitation he had heard his name. He had not meant to listen but he could not help overhearing, for Mrs Roberts’s deafness caused people to speak in a loud voice when conversing with her, and what he had heard had rooted him to the spot.
Miss Elizabeth Bennet had been talking about him. He had recognised her voice at once. She had been saying terrible things about him:
“pompous, superior, arrogant . . . I will not even call him a gentleman . . . deceitful, low cunning . . . the last man in the world I could ever be prevailed on to marry.”
He had been astonished to begin with, and then angry, and then a cold feeling had invaded the pit of his stomach as he realised how narrowly he had avoided making a terrible mistake. If he had found Miss Elizabeth a
ble to receive visitors at the rectory the previous day, he would have proposed to her . . . and been rejected! Yes, as incredible as it seemed, she had not been expecting his advances. She had not been encouraging his attentions. She did not like him, did not want to attract him. She hated and despised him. She thought him not a gentleman.
How those words stung! Not a gentleman.
His anger rose up inside him. How dare she say so!
And yet her complaints against him had been just. He had been rude about her on their first meeting. He had insulted her subtly by asking if she would like to dance a reel – and how clever she had been to spot that. He had separated her sister from Mr Bingley, and he had used cunning and deceit to prevent them meeting again in London.
But he had been right to separate them, he thought stubbornly, as he leapt to his own defence.
But even as he thought it, he heard Elizabeth again, in his memory, saying that he had broken her sister’s heart. Had he been right to do that? Had he been right to wound a sweet young lady who had behaved with the utmost decorum, and who had expected – quite rightly – a proposal from a gentleman who had been showing all the world he cared for her? No, he had not been right to do that at all.
And had he been right to keep the young couple apart in London, by keeping news of Miss Bennet’s visit from his friend?
No, he had not been right to do that either.
All his self belief and pompous self righteousness left him at that moment, rendering him vulnerable. He had behaved badly, and Miss Elizabeth had seen it. Not only seen it, but judged him for it. She had not been prepared to forgive him because he was rich and well connected. She had judged him as a man, not a rich man. She had judged his actions, not his position. She had judged him as a gentleman and found him wanting. And she had been right.
He was about to turn away and walk back to Rosings when he heard Miss Elizabeth bidding Mrs Roberts farewell. Luckily, he had approached from the back of the cottage and so Miss Elizabeth did not see him as she left. He was in no mood to talk to his old nurse, but the flowers in his hand must be given to her and so, after waiting a few minutes so that Miss Elizabeth could move well away from the cottage, he went round to the front door and was soon inside.