by Jann Rowland
“The horses screamed and strove against the sucking muck, which clutched at the wheels and held them, like some demon, jaws gaping with dripping fangs to pull them down to the depths of hell. In a panic, those in the stricken carriage alighted, hoping to escape the awful damnation which awaited them, leaving the horses to strive against the weight of their doom. But it was all for naught, for though the horses strained against the grasping fingers of the mud, it held fast, preventing their escape.
“At last, when all hope seemed exhausted, another carriage happened upon them, and when it had rolled to a stop, two young men, alight with the fire of courage and determination stepped down, insisting upon offering their assistance. With the help of their trusty men at arms, these mighty men strove with the very lieutenants of hell and prevailed, with naught but a few specks of mud on their trousers to mark their struggle. And so all were saved—the damsels to the assembly, where they danced the night away, while the two young men returned to their estate and from thence to the assembly hall, to pay homage to the young maidens with all the humility of truly heroic young men.” By the time Elizabeth finished her tale, the entire company was laughing at her story, even Mr. Darcy, who had struck her as more stoic than mirthful. Colonel Fitzwilliam slapped his knee and Olivia and Georgiana leaned against each other, giggling, each supporting the other in her arms.
“Did it truly happen that way, Brother?” gasped Georgiana.
“More or less,” said Mr. Darcy. “Miss Bennet might have embellished the tale slightly.”
“Aye,” chortled Colonel Fitzwilliam. “She has the soul of a storyteller, I dare say.”
“My cousins have always enjoyed my stories,” replied Elizabeth modestly. “A story devoid of embellishments is akin to a bowl of strawberries without cream. Yes, you can eat and enjoy it, but it is so much more interesting when combined with something sweet.”
“And make it better you did, Miss Bennet,” said Mr. Darcy. “Even Fitzwilliam, who I am absolutely certain has not done half of the things of which he boasts, cannot spin a yarn so well as you.”
“Darcy!” exclaimed Colonel Fitzwilliam. “Do not say such things! I will have you know that everything I have told you is nothing but an exact account of my experiences!”
“I think my cousin has become addled by the rigors of command,” said Georgiana sotto voce. “No one could ever believe all the outlandish blandishments which come out of his mouth.”
Elizabeth covered her giggle with a hand, noting the severe look Colonel Fitzwilliam was directing at his cousin. She only looked calmly at him, though her amusement danced in her eyes.
“I believe it might be prudent for you to take care as to whom you allow to influence your sister, Darcy,” said he. “She seems to have acquired a hint of teasing in her manner which is quite unseemly.”
“I actually rather enjoy it, Fitzwilliam,” said Mr. Darcy, leaning back into the cushions of the sofa. “It is amusing to watch you receive a taste of your own medicine from time to time.”
“Cut to the quick!” exclaimed Colonel Fitzwilliam, raising a dramatic hand to his chest. “And to think that it is my own cousin who has wounded me so.”
“I agree with William,” said Georgiana. “You do deserve to be teased in return.”
They all laughed and then moved on to other topics. Elizabeth participated, but underneath she was considering all that had happened. She had enjoyed relating the story of Mr. Darcy’s heroics and was certain it would become a favorite story with which to tease him in the future, but she was still not certain what to think of Georgiana’s comments. It seemed clear that the girl thought much of her, for which Elizabeth was grateful, for she was quite fond of Georgiana too. But Mr. Darcy had shown no noticeable interest in Elizabeth, and she did not mean to make herself unhappy over him.
Of the utmost importance, however, was Elizabeth’s wish that Mr. Darcy never learn of the jest his sister had made. Elizabeth could not imagine the mortification she would feel should he become aware of it, and she would not wish him to be put into a position where he felt he had no choice but to marry her. As an amiable man, Elizabeth had no doubt he would make the best of it in an admirable fashion, but the thought of taking another’s choice away was more than she could bear. She determined to have a word with Georgiana before they parted to make certain she understood this.
After some time had passed, the girls agreed amongst themselves that they would go together to Lambton to peruse some of the shops. It was so similar to a common occurrence between herself and her younger sisters at Meryton that Elizabeth could not quite stifle a grin. The gentlemen insisted upon accompanying them, and soon they all set off in the Darcy carriage for the small market town, the rumbling of the wheels accompanying their continued lively banter.
In town, they separated for a time, the gentlemen indicating that they had some business to conduct while the ladies visited some shops that interested them. There was nothing in particular that any of them wished to purchase—instead they browsed and talked and laughed amongst themselves, enjoying their time together as ladies friendly with one another often do.
It was while they were engaged in this attitude that they came across an acquaintance, though Elizabeth could not determine if the woman was happy to see them. The three girls curtseyed to Lady Emily, which she returned with a nod and a smile.
“I had not thought to meet you here today. It seems to me that you three have been together much of late.”
“Miss Bennet and Miss Drummond have become very dear friends,” said Georgiana. “I am very happy to have them call on me, for they have told me of the assembly. My brother does not care for such things, so their intelligence was welcome, indeed.”
Lady Emily smiled, an indulgent sort of gesture. “I dare say gentlemen will not pay any attention to the kind of details that would interest a lady.”
“That is exactly it,” agreed Georgiana.
Lady Emily turned to Elizabeth. “Have you become accustomed to Derbyshire yet, Miss Bennet?”
“It is different from my home,” replied Elizabeth, “but I find myself quite content here. There is nothing wanting in the locale, to be sure.”
“I have passed through Hertfordshire. I am certain it contains many beauties of its own.”
“It does, and I am quite fond of it. I believe we all possess an affinity for our own homes, but there are many beauties in the world, and I am happy to see whatever I can of it.”
“I agree.” Lady Emily paused and after a moment she again spoke to Elizabeth. “I would be happy, Miss Bennet, if you would visit me when the opportunity presents itself. I would like to know you better.
“Of course, I am happy to welcome you all,” continued she, addressing Georgiana and Olivia. “I mean no disrespect for your excellent companions, but as we are closer in age, I believe we have much in common.”
The girls were quick to indicate that they were not offended, to which the lady smiled. For Elizabeth’s part, she was flattered by this unlooked-for bit of civility, and she agreed that she would, to which Lady Emily smiled and thanked her. “If your means of coming to my house is a problem, please let me know and I will send a carriage.”
“Thank you, Lady Emily,” said Elizabeth. “I will speak with my uncle.”
“There you are,” a voice said, hailing them, and the gentlemen joined them, bowing to the newcomer. “Lady Emily,” said Mr. Darcy. “How good it is to see you.”
“Mr. Darcy,” replied Lady Emily. “I was not aware that you and Colonel Fitzwilliam were also in attendance.”
“Miss Bennet and Miss Drummond were visiting Georgiana at Pemberley before we came to Lambton,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam by way of explanation. “We, in turn, had not expected to see you.”
There was something of challenge in Colonel Fitzwilliam’s tone, but though Elizabeth did not understand it, it was equally clear that Lady Emily either did not notice it or she simply ignored it. She t
urned her eyes back on Mr. Darcy and her gaze almost seemed to be possessive, though that was not quite the correct word either. There did seem to be admiration inherent in it, though Elizabeth was forced to own that she did not know Lady Emily well enough to be certain of anything she was seeing.
“Did you find anything of interest, Miss Bennet?” asked Mr. Darcy, drawing Elizabeth’s attention back to him.
“Several things of interest, sir?” said Elizabeth. “But I have made no purchases.”
Mr. Darcy shook his head. “You share the same affliction as Georgiana. I cannot count the number of times I have conveyed her to Lambton—at her insistence, I might add—only to have her purchase nothing.”
“Then you should be thankful, Mr. Darcy,” replied Elizabeth. “Instead of merely browsing the shops, she might be more predisposed to purchase everything she can lay her hands on.”
Seeming amused, Mr. Darcy said: “You believe her predilection to be a virtue then?”
“I do not believe it can be anything else. Georgiana has become a dear friend. I must defend her against all naysayers.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam laughed. “Those you will not find here, Miss Bennet. I dare say that I have never seen two siblings as devoted to each other as Darcy and Georgiana.”
“Of course, they are,” said Lady Emily. “And it is to their credit.” Lady Emily turned to Elizabeth. “I look forward to your visit, Miss Bennet. For now, I bid you all good day.”
After the lady departed, the company soon broke up themselves, the residents of Pemberley to return thither, while Elizabeth and Olivia were conveyed in a carriage graciously provided by the Darcys to Kingsdown.
“I am quite glad you have come, Lizzy,” said Olivia when they were seated in the carriage on their way back to the Drummond home. “I love my sister, but it is wonderful to have a companion my own age with whom to converse.”
“The benefits of having a sister close in age are, indeed, many,” replied Elizabeth. “There are vexations, of course, but I believe the benefits outweigh whatever drawbacks there are.”
“I have not had any yet,” averred Olivia. “I am perfectly content with your presence.”
Laughing, Elizabeth embraced the younger girl about her shoulders. “Perhaps you have not experienced any of them, but I assure you there will be vexations. It may be best to have our first argument as soon as may be arranged, so we can make up and be friends again.”
“Oh, Lizzy! It is exactly that playful conversation to which I referred. It is delightfully droll to have another young lady, for it can sometimes be dull without. I hope you never return to Hertfordshire!”
“We shall have to see,” said Elizabeth.
Though unbidden, the picture of Mr. Darcy, his handsome countenance in the light of the sun, his hair tousled by the gentle breaths of wind, entered Elizabeth’s mind, and no matter how much she tried to tell herself that he could never possess any interest in her, the image would not leave. So she allowed her imagination full rein. Being the object of such a man’s affections would be something marvelous—of this she was absolutely certain.
As the coach drove down the road, Darcy watched it go, his mind with one of the young ladies contained therein. Miss Drummond was an admirable sort of girl, and he had a high opinion of her, but Miss Bennet was a breath of fresh air, a veritable diamond in a sea of opals, a woman so unlike any other that Darcy had never seen her like. It was beyond comprehension that he might ever have managed to resist her siren call, for thoughts of her filled his mind and fired his imagination.
As he stepped into his carriage with his sister and cousin, he was content to allow Georgiana and Fitzwilliam to carry the conversation between them, inserting a word or two here or there where he thought it least likely that he would be required to speak more. His mind was full of her and he would not have it any other way. The attraction he had felt for her was stronger, more powerful than anything he had ever felt, and he found himself wondering what it would be like if he was never required to watch her return to her home at night—if her home was his home.
It was fortunate for Darcy that he escaped his relations’ teasing, for if they recognized his distraction, he had no doubt they would make sport with him with merciless abandon. Through dinner and their time in the sitting-room after, his thoughts remained half on Miss Bennet, even as he played cards with his sister and cousin and listened to Georgiana play the pianoforte. But though he thought much on her, the weight of duty stayed on his shoulders, and he was nowhere equal to the task of determining if his duty to his family or legacy would be broken by expressing a firmer interest in Miss Bennet.
“It appears to me that your thoughts have stayed with the lovely Miss Bennet since our parting,” observed Fitzwilliam as soon as they were ensconced in his study upon Georgiana’s retiring that evening.
Darcy directed a piercing glance at his cousin. It appeared his attempts to hide his distraction had not been nearly as efficacious as he had thought. Furthermore, the fact that Fitzwilliam had not seen fit to tease him about it—and the fact he was not teasing now—suggested some measure of seriousness in his cousin’s manner. Darcy was wary, wondering if his cousin was merely saving his wit for some moment in which he could embarrass Darcy and derive the most amusement from it.
“Perhaps my mind has been on other matters,” said Darcy.
Fitzwilliam snorted and looked skyward. “I am afraid I understand you far too well to believe your obfuscation, Darcy. There are many little clues which betray you—if you took the time to think on them yourself, I am certain you would recognize them too. What I would like to know is what you think of her.”
“She is an amiable, intelligent woman,” replied Darcy, his shrug indicating a lack of concern for this subject. It was also completely false.
“That she is. But I am more interested in whether you intend to act on your attraction and pursue her.”
“How do you know I am attracted to her?”
“Please, Darcy,” growled Fitzwilliam, “do not insult my intelligence. I knew almost as soon as I saw you together that you found her irresistible.”
Darcy did not even attempt to deny it, knowing its futility. “Attraction for the girl is one thing. We often feel attraction we do not act upon.”
“Forgive me for saying as much, but you are more of a simpleton than I would have ever thought if you allow this woman to slip away.”
“Peace, Fitzwilliam,” growled Darcy. “I have owned my attraction to her. But there are more facets to marriage than a simple attraction, and I have not known her long, after all.”
“Yes, it is prudent to come to know her better. Just make certain you do not allow other matters to interfere with your choice.”
“As I said, there are many facets. I will consider them all ere I make a choice.”
Fitzwilliam drained his glass, and he stood, his gaze falling heavily upon Darcy. “You are careful, Cousin, as always, and it does you credit. But I will remind you of one matter before I leave you for the night: remember that there are many of our sphere—including my brother—who have married with nothing in mind but wealth and status. If you recall, James is miserable, and though I cannot speak for each of my acquaintances in turn, my general perception is that most are not happy with their arranged wives, and several keep mistresses, or engage in even greater debauchery to fill the void.”
“And you think I would behave as such?” asked Darcy, feeling affronted at what his cousin was suggesting.
“I know you would not, which would make it much more difficult for you to bear. I only counsel you to marry the girl if you possess any affection for her, and live happily with her. Why does it matter if she does not possess connections or fortune? The last I heard, you were flush with both of these things. A wife with a compatible temperament, a passionate nature, intelligence and wit—she must be prized above the value of rubies. Make your choice based on these things, not that which society deems
most important.”
“It is yet early for such talk. I must know her better.”
“Then make certain you move quickly. Such a woman as Miss Bennet cannot remain in obscurity for long. She will attract suitors to her like flies to honey. Do not wait so long that you lose her to someone else.”
Fitzwilliam turned and strode from the room, whistling a jaunty tune as he went, leaving Darcy to his brooding thoughts.
Chapter XI
For the next several days, Darcy thought about his cousin’s words, and his thoughts were colored by his own impressions of Miss Bennet.
Fitzwilliam had always been more impulsive than Darcy. He had always charged headlong into everything, be it pranks, racing on his horses, or often fisticuffs with the steward’s son, not that Wickham had not deserved the thrashings he had received.
Darcy, by contrast, had always been of a more sober, thoughtful nature, always thinking carefully about any decision before committing himself, always weighing every angle in search of the best understanding of the problem. Fitzwilliam had, at times, decried him as over-cautious when a problem presented itself, and Darcy had, more than once, acceded to the justice of his opinion. But he could be no other way, as such caution had been ingrained in him by his father as a child.
It was nothing more than expected that Fitzwilliam should urge Darcy to proceed with all haste when the subject was matrimony. But should he not take care when considering a matter as important as the identity of his future wife? It was perhaps the single most significant choice he would make in his entire life. Such consequence necessitated a careful examination of the woman, his own desires, and whether they were in any way compatible. Surely Miss Bennet, if she was at all attracted to him, was considering the same factors as he was himself.
“You said what to Miss Bennet?” asked Darcy, startled to hear such things from his self-effacing sister. It was the morning after Miss Bennet and Miss Drummond had visited, and they were sitting down to breakfast, and Darcy was not certain he had heard his sister correctly.