by Head, Gail
“You must feel Mrs. Holiby's absence keenly. I am truly sorry she was sent away.”
“I know,” Rebecca said softly without looking up. “It was not your fault. I am sorry for blaming you. It was just so unexpected and I was lost without her.”
“She had been with you a long time then?”
“From the very first day Lord Grissholm brought me to Everton…but I guess you know all that.”
“No, I have not been told much of anything, and I do not mean to pry. You need not speak of it if it makes you uncomfortable.”
“It is all right. I should like to tell you – it is nice to have someone to talk to again.”
Elizabeth smiled encouragingly. “Then you may say as much as you like and I shall listen.”
Rebecca added a few more details to her flower before continuing. “I became an orphan when I was seven, and came here to live. Mrs. Holiby cared for me like a mother. She was much more than a governess to me, she was my family. When she was sent away so suddenly, I could only see that you had taken her place.”
“I am so very sorry for your loss – for Mrs. Holiby and your family. Lord Grissholm was wrong to be so cruel. Is he a friend of the family? Is that why you are his ward?”
“Actually, I do not know what the connection is. I only remember that my family all died in a dreadful fire. Several families perished in the flames, and it was a miracle that I escaped with very little injury.”
“Lord Grissholm must have some connection for him to take you in as he did.”
“I asked him once soon after he brought me here; but he became so angry and frightening that I never dared mention it again.”
Elizabeth returned to her own painting more puzzled than ever. Why would a single man of Lord Grissholm's temper take the responsibility of rearing a seven-year-old child? And what exactly was Mr. Wickham up to? Rebecca was without fortune, which made it very unlikely that Wickham was repeating the scheme he had attempted with Mr. Darcy's sister. As far as she could tell, Rebecca had never even heard of George Wickham. None of it made sense. Why had he been so insistent that she take up this particular post? It was all so strange!
With a mental shrug, Elizabeth pushed the puzzling questions aside. Until Rebecca felt more comfortable talking about such things, it was not likely she would find any answers.
The rest of their time was spent in comfortable silence, trying to replicate the small watercolor Elizabeth had borrowed from the east wing sitting room. At length Elizabeth declared their lesson at an end and made ready to return the painting. As she turned to leave, she was surprised by the arrival of the viscount.
“Ladies, I thought I would see what you have been doing this afternoon. Am I interrupting anything?”
“Not at all. We were attempting to give the venerable Mr. Lawrence some competition,” Elizabeth offered lightly, “though Miss Ballard has a much better chance at it than I. She is very talented, is she not, sir?”
“What do you think you are doing?” he snapped, his pleasant manner instantly dissolving into icy reserve.
Elizabeth's eyes followed his to the painting in her hands. “We have been using this piece as a model for our lessons. It is an excellent example.”
“Are you always in the habit of helping yourself to property that is not your own, Miss Bennet?”
“No, sir, I am not!” she bristled at the sudden attack. “I had not thought it important enough to bother you, but I certainly shall apply to you in the future should I feel a need to touch anything that is not expressly my own. Pray excuse me and I shall return it at once.”
Without waiting for a reply, Elizabeth stormed from the room, hurt and angry. He might as well have accused me of stealing. How dare he! And to think I was beginning to consider him amiable. Obviously all his recent cordiality and good manners have been a pretense. I was right from the beginning – he is a dreadful man!
The time it took her to cover the distance to the east wing was enough to cool her anger somewhat and she was a little calmer when she reached the sitting room. Returning the picture to its place on the wall, she sighed wistfully and stepped back to admire it one more time. The picture had been an effective means of bringing her and Rebecca together, if only for a little while. Now she would have to find something else.
“You certainly are lovely,” she murmured softly.
“Indeed,” a low, admiring voice sounded from behind her.
Spinning around, she saw Lord Grissholm standing in the doorway. Her cheeks flamed anew at the memory of his biting words and her brow rose archly in response to his open stare. “You need not worry, your Lordship. The painting is back in its place and I certainly shall not disturb it or anything else again.”
“Allow me to apologize for my outburst, Miss Bennet.”
“I beg your pardon?” Elizabeth blinked, astonished at yet another reversal of his manners. There was not a trace of the rage he had just displayed in the library.
“I am sorry for being so abrupt just now. I was taken by surprise and should not have been so harsh,” he smiled, coming forward to admire the paintings with her. “You could not have known the sentiments connected to these pieces nor my instructions regarding them.”
“I see,” she said, confused even more by his reverent tone. “Are they the work of your mother or a family member, perhaps?”
“No, they are the work of another. I am pleased that you like them, but I ask that you do not disturb them again.”
“Of course, my lord. Thank you for telling me.”
Suddenly embarrassed by his too-close proximity, Elizabeth stepped back without seeing the footstool behind her. She gave a small cry as she lost her balance and fell backward. Only Lord Grissholm's swift reaction and solid arms saved her from a graceless tumble.
“Are you all right?” he looked her over, breathing in a lovely scent of lavender.
Yes, I believe so,” she replied breathlessly.
“Quite sure? You did not hurt yourself?” he asked again, still holding her.
“Yes...I mean, no! I am not hurt. I am quite well, thank you.” She was mortified at her inelegant fall and painfully aware of his intimate embrace. “If you will release me, sir, I shall return to Miss Ballard. We are to go walking and she must be wondering where I am.”
Setting Elizabeth upright, Lord Grissholm let go at once and dropped his hands to his sides, stepping back to let her pass. He watched her hurry out of the room, wondering to himself at what had just transpired.
He had only meant to follow her and make certain the painting was restored satisfactorily, but the vision of her standing there, bathed in sunlight, had captivated him. And when she stumbled over the footstool, he could not help reaching for her. He should have remembered himself better; but her skin was so soft and warm, her scent so enchanting that the immense pleasure of holding a woman so closely had been too enticing. It was something he had not done in a very long time.
Realizing the dangerous territory he was entering, he forced the distracting thoughts from his mind. Stick to your plan, man. It is Darcy you are after. She is only a means to an end – nothing more!
* * * *
“At last!” Jane exclaimed joyfully, pulling a small sheet of paper from the depths of the desk drawer. Leaning back against the leather padding of her father's desk chair, she eagerly read the words written in Lizzy's graceful hand. The next moment, however, brought keen disappointment when she realized it was not a letter at all, but merely a jumbled collection of names and distant family connections. The only thing on the sheet remotely connected to Lizzy was the name of Mrs. Augusta Whitestone, the relative with whom she was traveling. Dispirited, Jane gave the page one last reproachful look and let it fall to the desktop. Now what was she going to do?
Her eyes swept the room searching for an answer and came to rest on her father's dueling sword hanging above the hearth; the same one she had taken from the middle of his desk when she first began her search. Strange that it should h
ave been so out of place, she reflected thoughtfully. I wonder why? In the next moment, her gaze fell to the small pile of ashes still sitting in the grate below and the sword was instantly forgotten. Memories of that life-altering day came rushing back, bringing especially painful memories that were hers alone. As promised, she had remained silent about the mysterious love letter that had been destroyed.
The deep, tremulous breath she took did not relieve the guilt that rippled through her. While it was true Lizzy did not know the family's difficulty and needed to be told, Jane's real motive for coming in search of an address was to send a letter begging Lizzy to come home as soon as possible. It was now more than a month since that morning when they had bid each other a tender farewell. They had never before been separated for so long without the reassuring connection of letters to sustain them, and the void was becoming too much to bear.
Increasingly, Jane was feeling the weight of the day to day burdens thrust upon her. Trying to manage the affairs of an estate with the added burden of her father's illness and her mother's incessant demands had been difficult but bearable. It was the agonizing heartbreak of Mr. Bingley's capricious behavior and the lost expectation of true love that had finally pressed her spirits so low as to now make even the smallest task seem insurmountable.
That very morning she had awakened in tears, traces of a terrifying nightmare still pulling at the edges of her memory. As much as she wanted to meet the many demands of her family, she simply could not. She had given her all and it was not enough. She could no longer manage it on her own and desperately needed Lizzy's strength to share the burden.
Jane sighed pensively and put the disappointing paper back into the drawer. Somehow she had to brace herself for another day, but she did not know how it was to be done.
At that moment, the sound of carriage wheels drew her to the window, and her heart dropped even further at the sight of an approaching gig, the form of Mr. Collins perched precariously next to the driver. Oh, no! As if things were not bad enough!
Knowing it would be impossible to escape the meeting, she resolutely fixed what she hoped was a pleasant look on her face and went to greet her cousin.
“Welcome to Longbourn, Mr. Collins. We did not know you were in the neighborhood. To what do we owe this unexpected pleasure?”
“My dear Cousin Jane,” Mr. Collins spoke as if to a small child. “May I offer you my heartfelt sympathies and express the deep concern I feel for you as you are called to bear this misfortune; which burden, indeed, has befallen your entire family. I had hoped to condole with you all. Your mother and sisters will, perhaps, join us?”
“I am afraid that my mother is still suffering from the shock and keeps to her rooms. My sisters are engaged elsewhere at the moment. Your concern is appreciated and I shall convey your condolences.”
“Indeed, my poor cousin, let me assure you in the kindest of tones that I feel your family's distress most keenly. In actual fact, I feel myself called upon by our relationship, and my situation in life, to sympathize with you on the distressing condition of your father's unfortunate state of health, of which we were only yesterday informed by a letter from Hertfordshire. But I am the bearer of some good news, and you may well rejoice in knowing that directly upon hearing the news of your unfortunate circumstances, Lady Catherine, with the most gracious and generous of gestures, insisted vigorously that I come at once and offer my assistance.”
“I thank you kindly, sir; but I cannot see that we are in need of any assistance at present.”
“Why, of course you cannot, my dear. Perhaps I should explain myself in a way that you might understand more clearly. As your nearest male relation, and the one to whom Longbourn is entailed, if I may be so indelicate as to point it out, I am prepared to take on the affairs of your father's estate – affairs that certainly would confuse the delicate female mind.”
“Mr. Collins, you are too hasty! We are quite able to manage as we are.”
“However my dear cousin, you must acknowledge that my intimate connection with Longbourn naturally places me in the position to guide its affairs during the unfortunate incapacity of your father. There is no reason for a young lady such as yourself to be troubled with the dull business of managing an estate. It is a fact well known that affairs of business are simply beyond a female's intellect; and Reverend Fordyce himself teaches that a woman's natural place is subordinate to that of her husband, father, or brother. In circumstances such as this, where you have no close male relation to assist you, it naturally falls to me to guide your family, and I am certain your father would approve of your wisdom in knowing the limitations of your sex.”
“My father has always been liberal in his view of such matters. The affairs of an estate are generally a matter for men, indeed; but I also believe there to be circumstances in which a woman may effectively manage an estate, as in the case of your own Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Does she not involve herself directly in the management of her own estate?”
“Why, I…that is to say, she …My dear cousin, you must see that Lady Catherine's situation is vastly different from your own! Where high birth and noble blood combine with such elegance and dignity, such grace and intellect, there can be no doubt of her ability to perform whatever act she deems necessary in her station!”
“And yet, Mr. Collins, you acknowledge she is a woman capable of managing a grand estate. May I not then reasonably expect to look after the affairs of Longbourn, which is much smaller in comparison to Rosings Park, even for a short time?”
“I must draw your attention to the additional fact that a gentle, well-mannered young lady such as yourself would undoubtedly, in every respect be untried and unaccustomed to the affairs of an estate, even a small estate such as Longbourn. There are many responsibilities which the feminine mind cannot begin to imagine.”
“Your offer is very kind, sir, but I assure you your assistance is not necessary at this point. I have already received word from my Uncle Gardiner who is making arrangements to come. He has sent instructions for the more pressing matters, and I am confident he will guide us well enough until my father is recovered.”
“I am glad to hear that you have the assistance of a man of business, but he may be some time in coming. And even so, it is the opinion of my noble patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh that at so young an age as three-and-twenty you must be found quite deficient for such an undertaking. You should endeavor to occupy your time with pursuits more suited to your femininity rather than crops and quarter-days!”
“Mr. Collins, this is but a temporary condition. My father is ill, but he is growing stronger with each passing day. Under the circumstances, I think it would be premature to make the changes you are suggesting in the management of his estate. Please express my appreciation to Lady Catherine for her notice, but for now, I am resolved to keep things as they are.”
“Cousin Jane, may I caution you against the sins of obstinacy and pride? The noble, unstinting efforts of Lady Catherine de Bourgh must not be cast aside so heedlessly. It would be most unfortunate indeed to have her think you ungrateful of her condescension. You must allow me to satisfy the spirit of her liberality and be of assistance in some way.”
“Mr. Collins, I am not ungrateful for your efforts,” Jane replied slowly, searching for some task that would satisfy them both. In the next moment, she found one. “And I believe there is another matter in which you may be of some help. Elizabeth is traveling for the summer with a relation whose connection we share – a Mrs. Augusta Whitestone. Lizzy does not know of father's illness, and I thought perhaps you would know of their travel plans or how I might send word.”
“Whitestone, you say?' he replied with pursed lips. “My father was one of ten children and I have many excellent and dignified relations – indeed, my Uncle Josiah Collins distinguished himself as an invaluable assistant to the coadjutor of Worcester – but I do not recall the name of Whitestone to be among them.”
“She is an elderly woman. Sister-i
n-law to your father's younger brother, I believe?”
“Uncle Stephen's wife has no sisters. You say Miss Elizabeth is traveling with this alleged relation?”
No Mrs. Whitestone? Jane's heart skipped a beat. Then who is Lizzy with? Oh, this is awful! If he imagines any impropriety, there will be no end to his meddling.
Jane's silence quickly ignited a spark of suspicion in Mr. Collins and he eyed her narrowly. “Am I to understand Miss Elizabeth is gone traveling with an unknown person and cannot be found? This is highly irregular. I pray her situation is respectable!”
“There is no reason to believe otherwise, Mr. Collins,” Jane was quick to assure him. “I had been told – that is, we believed Mrs. Whitestone to be your relation as well, and now I see that I am mistaken. I am sorry to have troubled you.”
“My dear cousin, it is no trouble in the least for now I see where I may be of assistance. This situation is most assuredly a conundrum that requires elucidation. The effect on your sister's reputation, and indeed upon your entire family, would be most severe if anything is amiss. Clearly I must make inquiries on your behalf! If you would tell me how you came by this name, I will begin immediately.”
“Please, sir, it is completely unnecessary!” cried Jane. “I am certain that Lizzy's situation is entirely respectable. In fact, I expect a letter very soon. I had thought to write first, but it will not be long now and then I shall be able to tell her all that has happened.”
“Still, it seems most peculiar! One cannot be too careful. A young lady's reputation is a fragile thing and Miss Elizabeth has shown herself to be entirely too independent on many occasions. It is my belief that young ladies should be kept at home, their virtues assiduously safeguarded through the constant, judicious supervision of an ever-vigilant male relation.”
“Thank you for your concern, but I am confident this is all a simple misunderstanding.” Jane was desperate to dissuade him from a course of inquiry so certain to bring disaster and ruin down upon her family. “Really, there is no need to make inquiries, nor indeed to mention the matter to anyone. Please, do not exert yourself, Mr. Collins!”