by Hahn, Jan
You must listen to his words. The thought went around and around my mind. He kissed you and termed it a mistake. There was no getting past that.
The remainder of the day crawled by. Jane and I packed our belongings that evening, and I could hardly wait for the morning to dawn. The sooner I left London, the sooner I could begin my life anew. Once I left Town, I could forget all that had happened. How I longed to see Hertfordshire again!
The next day, however, I learned that my desires were in vain.
Shortly after breakfast, Firkin announced that there were visitors from the constable’s office in the parlour awaiting the presence of my father and me. Papá had already left the house to secure our tickets for the post, and so my uncle took his place. He did not want the callers to have to wait for my father’s return. He declared it would not signify if he arrived late at his own office.
Two middle-aged men greeted us, one dressed in uniform, the other in civilian clothing, holding his hat in his hands. My uncle introduced me and asked their business, whereupon they informed us that they were to hold an enquiry for the magistrate’s office, and they desired to question me as to what had occurred during the entirety of the kidnapping and robbery. They also said my presence would be required in London until after the trial of Morgan and his gang.
“Certainly,” my uncle answered after first glancing at me, “my niece will give you whatever information is necessary, but I do not understand why after doing so, she must stay in Town.”
“The court,” the man in civilian clothes explained, “must have the right to question you, Miss Bennet, during the actual trial proceedings. We are here today to gain whatever testimony you wish to give regarding the crimes before the case is heard.”
My uncle immediately asked if I would have to testify publicly, and we were assured that would be unlikely, that Mr. Darcy’s presence would be sufficient, along with that of the menservants from Mr. Bingley’s carriage and any other witnesses the gentleman wished to call. If at all possible, none of the ladies — Miss Bingley, Mrs. Hurst, nor I — would be forced to submit to the indignities of a public trial. They, however, would not rule out the remote prospect.
I must have appeared stricken at the thought, for the man hastened to assure me that such occasion rarely came about. He then began to question me in detail about the entire situation, scribbling my answers upon an untidy wad of papers he had pulled from a faded brown satchel.
I told him everything I knew. In truth, I was glad to have the opportunity to relate what background I knew about Morgan. I hoped it would make things go easier for him. I took special pains to make certain they learned that he had provided for Mr. Darcy’s and my comfort and arranged for our release.
“Exactly how did this Morgan fellow make things comfortable for you?” the man asked. “According to Mr. Darcy, you were held in primitive conditions.”
“We were, but when I asked for water and a blanket, Morgan saw that we received it.”
“Water and bedding could hardly be termed luxuries.”
“No, but the others — Sneyd, in particular — would have denied us even those necessities. And did Mr. Darcy tell you how Morgan protected me from Sneyd’s advances?”
The man glanced at his uniformed companion and shook his head.
I briefly described the incident wherein Sneyd had attempted to force himself upon me and then told of Morgan’s rescue. I omitted the fact that Sneyd had touched me, and I did not feel it necessary to include the way Morgan had carried me back to the cabin. After all, I was not under oath, and neither fact was pertinent. When he asked if that was all, I nodded.
Much more had happened. Morgan had given me wine and a place at his table. He had danced with me and attempted to kiss me, but I would not reveal any of that. The man was in enough trouble. I did not wish to add to his woes.
At length, the official folded his papers and stuffed them inside the satchel. The men rose and thanked us for our time and cooperation. As they reached the door about to depart, the man in uniform turned back with one final question.
“Miss Bennet, might you know the date Mr. Darcy plans to return?”
“Return?” I could not make out what he meant.
“Yes, return to London.”
“No, I cannot tell you. I did not know he had left Town.”
“Is that so? I would have thought he would have told you, of all people. Yes, he left yesterday without telling his sister when he would return. She was quite vague about it all. ’Tis strange that no one can give us an answer. If he does call upon you before we see him, make certain he knows he is bound under the law just as you are. He must remain in Town until after the trial.
“And when might that proceeding occur?” my uncle asked.
“It is set for shortly after the beginning of the new year,” the man replied.
After the New Year! I could not believe it would take so long. That was weeks away. I did not recall the men taking their leave or walking out the door. My mind was far too occupied with the dismal thought that I could not go home to Longbourn for a good three weeks or longer!
My father returned to the house shortly thereafter and found me with Jane and my aunt and uncle in the parlour discussing the change in events. He, naturally, was surprised and somewhat dismayed that I could not accompany him that day.
“I shall have to return this ticket for a refund,” he said slowly.
“Papá, will you not return two tickets?” Jane asked. “I pray you will allow me to stay with Lizzy — that is, if you do not mind, Aunt.
“Of course you may stay,” my aunt said. “Both of you girls are welcome to visit with us as long as needs be, for you are a joy to our house. I have just had another idea, however. Thomas, why not go to Longbourn, fetch Fanny and the younger girls, and bring them all here for the holiday? Would it not make our hearts merrier to be all together?”
“Oh, Aunt,” Jane said, “how kind of you!”
“But will you have room?” I asked, aware that the Gardiner’s house was not at all large, and she was inviting five more people.
“Of course, we will,” my uncle answered, and my aunt agreed, saying my parents could have the room my father had used, Jane and I could share a room, and Mary, Kitty and Lydia could take Jane’s bedchamber, as it was the largest. Within moments, she had worked out the sleeping arrangements and immediately turned her thoughts to menus.
“Come with me, Jane,” she said. “We shall meet with Cook right now and make our plans for Christmas dinner!”
My uncle kissed her cheek and announced that he had to leave for the office. That left me alone with my father once more.
“Are you sure you can bear your mother’s affliction, once she knows all the particulars of what has happened, Lizzy?”
“Of course,” I said, smiling. “And who knows — by this time, she may have already secured another man for me to charm.”
“There has been a rather steady stream lately,” he agreed.
And so that night Jane and I unpacked our trunks and settled in once again at Gracechurch Street. She remained in her room since our family was not to arrive until a day or two before the holiday, and thus, I had the entire bed to myself. I stretched out fully but found that greater room in the bed did not cause sleep to come any easier.
Each time I closed my eyes, I would see Mr. Darcy, his dark brooding stare, the way his curls persisted in falling across his forehead, and the dimples I had glimpsed when favoured with one of his smiles. I could see him striding across the countryside, his greatcoat flying about as his long legs made quick work of any distance. I knew his familiar walk by heart.
I sighed and rubbed my eyes, attempting to erase the visions that tormented me. But like a persistent melody, I could not rid myself of thoughts of him. My arms ached to hold him just once more, to feel his own embrace tighten around me and his warm hand gently place my head upon his chest. Then, once again I could taste his lips upon mine, feel that urgent, persi
stent kiss force me to open myself to him. I grew warm all over at the memory of my response.
I trembled, amazed at how little I had understood about a man and a woman prior to this journey I had taken with Mr. Darcy. How little I had known of love, both its joys and its heartbreak.
* * *
On Thursday Jane and I attended my aunt on a shopping excursion. By that time, the reporters had given up trying to obtain any news from us and had forsaken, at last, their vigil outside my uncle’s house.
Several acquaintances had made calls upon my aunt during the week. They all seemed unduly curious about my future plans, but they were dissuaded from pursuing such questions by my aunt’s innocuous, gentle manner. Although I appreciated the diversion presented by such guests, I was in great need of escaping the house, of venturing somewhere other than into my aunt’s garden out back.
It was thus with a measure of anticipation that I tied my bonnet and joined Mrs. Gardiner and Jane for an afternoon of meandering about the fashionable shops of London. Both Jane and I wished to select small gifts for our families for the coming holiday, and my aunt was in search of just the right lace to redo a collar on her oldest daughter’s dress.
We milled about several stores and added our opinions to our aunt’s choice of patterns. We stopped for tea in a lovely little place, and I was much amused to sit at the window and watch the assortment of townspeople come and go with such haste.
“Well, girls, I am almost finished,” my aunt announced. “One more stop at Mrs. Bellamy’s, and I shall have completed my list of tasks for today. What about you? Is there anywhere else you wish to visit?”
We both replied in the negative, content simply to accompany her. Mrs. Bellamy’s turned out to be a dressmaker’s establishment, one that my aunt frequented often enough that the owner knew her by name.
As they busied themselves choosing silk for a new gown, Jane and I wandered about. We fingered the ribbons and marvelled at the array of fabrics lined up for purchase. One could go blind from the choices.
“A very good selection,” Mrs. Bellamy pronounced upon my aunt’s final preference. “That shade of lavender is perfect for your complexion, madam.” She wrote out the ticket, tallied up the amount to be charged, and watched as my aunt signed for the purchase. “The gown should be ready ten days from the morrow.”
“Thank you,” my aunt replied.
“And,” the lady added in a conspiratorial tone, “might I remind you how skilled my girls are at making wedding clothes.”
Jane and I glanced over our shoulders to see her lean toward our aunt’s ear and give a definite nod in my direction.
“We should be honoured to make the future Mrs. Darcy’s gown.”
My brows shot up in horror, but my aunt simply smiled and turned to bid us depart the shop together.
“Aunt,” I said on the street, “why did you not refute the dressmaker’s error?”
“Hush,” she replied, “let us not speak of it until we reach home.”
I did as I was told, but the moment we entered the foyer of the house on Gracechurch Street, I once again asked for an explanation.
“Lizzy,” she said, handing her coat and bonnet to the maid, “I did not see the need to give my dressmaker the details of your private life, just as I did not make the other shopkeepers privy to your future.”
“Do you mean to say Mrs. Bellamy was not the only person who asked such impertinent questions?” Jane asked.
“Indeed not,” my aunt replied. “I cannot recall one establishment where I was not questioned about Lizzy.”
My mouth hung agape. “Oh, I did not realize! I never would have placed you in that position, had I known.”
“Of course, my dear, but it is to be expected. Just because the journalists have left our stoop does not mean that London has quit talking. You and Mr. Darcy are still much discussed.”
I met Jane’s gaze, aghast at how naïve both of us had been. Only the night before, we had noted that people would probably soon forget all about me, if they had not already done so. Blithely I had gone about Town all day long, oblivious to the gossip following in my wake.
“I shall not leave this house again,” I announced, “until my father comes to fetch me home.”
“Oh, Lizzy, that is unheard of,” my aunt said.
“Indeed,” a male voice chimed in as we entered the small drawing room. “I do hope I can persuade you otherwise, Miss Elizabeth.”
We looked up to see Mr. Bingley standing beside our uncle at the fireplace, a welcoming smile upon his lips and a light in his eyes when they rested upon Jane. After greeting him, my aunt bade us all sit down.
“This is an unexpected pleasure, Mr. Bingley,” she said. “I hope your sisters are well.”
“They are,” he replied. “Caroline would have joined me but for a previous engagement. I have come with a purpose, however.”
He looked at me and then at Jane, keeping his gaze upon her. “I hope Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, you, and Miss Elizabeth will join Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, Caroline and me at the opera a week from tonight.”
“The opera!” my aunt exclaimed. “How lovely! ’Tis a pity Mr. Gardiner and I already have plans for that evening.”
“Ah,” Mr. Bingley said, “that is unfortunate. It is a performance of Don Giovanni.”
“Although we cannot attend, neither Jane nor Elizabeth is engaged for that evening as far as I know. Am I right, my dears?” my aunt asked.
“I understand the tenor is exceptional,” Mr. Bingley added, beaming at my sister. “Say you will come.” He continued to keep his eyes upon Jane until she smiled and glanced in my direction. “And you, also, of course, Miss Elizabeth.”
“If Jane is willing, I shall accept gladly, sir,” I said.
“I am willing,” Jane murmured.
“Splendid! I shall call for you at eight o’clock. And, oh yes, Caroline and Louisa ask that you call upon them in the meantime, Mrs. Gardiner, and both of you, as well, Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth.”
We smiled in agreement, although I could not imagine his sisters having issued such an invitation. Mrs. Gardiner asked him to stay for dinner, which he agreed to, and I was delighted at how the day ended.
Our guest was, as usual, pleasant and charming, and I could see how happy both he and Jane were to spend the evening together. I could not help but wonder whether Mr. Darcy had spoken of Jane to Mr. Bingley. Had he rectified the injustice he had rendered my sister? If so, I should be greatly pleased.
At the end of the evening as we bade him good night, my uncle asked Mr. Bingley if Mr. Darcy had yet returned to Town, and he replied in the negative, stating that he did not know when to expect him.
“Naturally, you know more about that than I, Miss Elizabeth,” he said, smiling at me. “I do hope he returns in time for the opera, for I am certain he will wish to join us.”
I simply smiled. He appeared to assume there was some connection between his friend and me. Had Mr. Darcy failed to tell him that we were not to be married? I went to bed that night, my mind in a muddle. How long must we keep up this pretence?
* * *
As far as I knew, Mr. Darcy had not returned to London by the day of the opera. In the intervening days, Jane and I had called upon Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst — an uncomfortable visit I have no wish to recall — and Mr. Bingley had called upon us twice more. Each time he wondered aloud when his friend would return, and of course, we were also at a loss for an answer.
I was thrilled that Mr. Bingley now openly courted my sister. With every visit, he appeared more and more in love with her. Surely, he would declare his intentions any day. For that reason alone, I hoped Mr. Darcy stayed away from Town. I suspected that he might have spoken to Mr. Bingley about Jane in a positive manner, but I could not be sure, so I wished for nothing that might spoil their progress toward happiness.
As time drew near for our special night, Jane and I tried on various gowns and practised several hairstyles. Neither of us had ever
attended a gala at Covent Garden, and the thought filled us with excitement.
My naturally optimistic outlook had pushed my disappointment with Mr. Darcy far below the surface of my emotions into the deepest recesses of my heart — or so I thought — and I did my best to face each day with hope for Jane, filling my mind with the distraction of a possible spring wedding. Goodness, I was beginning to sound like my mother!
The sole drawback to my happier outlook occurred when I chanced to find my uncle’s discarded newspaper. It appeared that most days he took particular pains to carry it off to his office, but twice during that week, I discovered it left behind in its usual place beside his plate at the breakfast table. As soon as permissible, I stole upstairs to my room and pored over the issues searching for any news of the highwaymen.
What I found alarmed me!
The fate of the accused had evidently taken on less importance than reports of newer crimes, for other than a reminder of the trial date, there was nothing written about them. However, in a gossipy column on the society page, I saw the following references that filled me with dismay:
London hostesses are abuzz with talk of feting upcoming brides, not the least of which is when to hold congratulatory teas for the future Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy. As the groom has been mysteriously absent from Town and the bride a resident of Hertfordshire, it is anyone’s guess as to when the nuptials will take place.
And a second notice three or four days later:
Has Mr. Darcy left his bride at the altar? The gentleman departed London with Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, son of the Earl of Matlock, early last week, and neither of them has been seen for more than ten days. Speculation rises as to when and if the marriage will take place.
Both items filled me with anxiety, and when I complained to my aunt that I thought it dishonest to allow such rumours to continue, she had a difficult time persuading me otherwise.