“How can it be?” Elizabeth asked, stunned. What of Mr. Darcy’s words about caring for his people?
“I don’t understand it, either.” Mr. Collins looked abashed. “How can someone as generous and sensible as Mr. Darcy own a mill?”
“Mills will be the ruin of this country,” Mr. Phillips said. “I know of several lawsuits being brought against them in these parts.”
“And there was the case in Kent,” Mr. Mitchel said. He spoke rarely, his expression generally dazed whenever Mrs. Bennet talked.
“Well, buying one home a lightning rod certainly doesn’t make up for such evil,” Mrs. Phillips declared. “People lose limbs in mills, and die.”
“Perhaps there’s more we don’t know,” Mary said, her tone reasonable.
Elizabeth certainly hoped so. She considered Mr. Collins a sensible source of information, not of idle gossip, yet how could Mr. Darcy own a mill? Was he that greedy?
“Why should there be more? Mr. Darcy is a horrible man,” Mrs. Bennet said. “After the things he said about my Lizzy and what he did to Mr. Wickham, I should be surprised if he didn’t own five mills.”
“I’m sure he didn’t mean his words at the assembly,” Elizabeth said, but inside she was reeling. Could she have misjudged Mr. Darcy yet again? She set down her fork, unable to stomach what she’d eaten, let alone dessert.
“You must always contradict me,” Mrs. Bennet wailed. “Never has a woman had so ungrateful a daughter. You’re probably pleased to see me living penniless and alone.”
Mrs. Bennet took back up those two favored topics. Conversation around the table dwindled again as her lamenting voice dominated. Elizabeth hardly attended to her, her mind reeling with confusion.
She loved Mr. Darcy. She was sure of that. Yet, how could she when she didn’t even know him? What sort of gentleman subjected people to a mill?
Afterward, when she was permitted to escape her mother and return to Lucas Lodge, Elizabeth described the dinner to Charlotte. They were alone in a small parlor, giving Elizabeth the freedom to speak openly. Still, she left out the part about Mr. Darcy and the mill, knowing she wouldn’t be able to speak on it without revealing too much emotion. Instead, she used the opportunity to voice some of her anger toward her mother.
After repeating an overview of Mrs. Bennet’s complaints, Elizabeth concluded with, “She went on and on. The only thing she’s giving Kitty and Mary is the same thing she gave Lydia, one thousand pounds each when she dies. My mother isn’t spending anything on my sisters for their marriages and yet still complains she doesn’t have enough money.” Elizabeth paced back and forth, too agitated to sit. “Without the generosity of your family and my uncles, she would have had to support six people with her income. Now, with my sisters wed or marrying, she just has to support herself.”
“It sounds as though she chose to be particularly trying this evening.” Charlotte’s tone was sympathetic. She was sewing baby clothes still, though larger ones now. Little William would grow quickly.
Elizabeth slumped into a chair, exhausted by her mother’s vitriol, her confusion over Mr. Darcy owning a mill and the endless void created by his absence. How odd it was she’d been the first of her sisters asked to wed, twice, yet she alone was unengaged? This in spite of one of the requests coming from the man she loved? Or thought she loved.
Elizabeth gave Charlotte a wry smile. “I almost offered to move in with her, knowing she would come up with a reason for me not to. I don’t know if I refrained because I didn’t want a public rejection or because I was afraid she might say yes.”
“There was no danger of that,” Charlotte said. “And a public rejection wouldn’t bother you. You refrained because you saw that being clever is less important than being kind, especially to someone like your mother.”
“She’s not kind to me.” Elizabeth was too tired to care that she sounded petulant.
“But you’ve learned not to stoop to her level,” Charlotte said.
“I suppose I have.” Elizabeth let out a long sigh. Her anger with her mother dispersed, leaving only her tumult over Mr. Darcy. “Sometimes, I miss the me who made clever remarks.”
“Remarks? You mean, you didn’t make a single clever remark at dinner? That’s not like you.”
“Perhaps it is now.”
Charlotte’s hands stilled. She studied Elizabeth for a long moment. “You look tired. Are you sleeping well?”
Elizabeth shrugged. “I’m worn from dinner with my mother.”
“You don’t need to stay up to keep me company. Go to bed.”
“I think I shall.” Elizabeth stood, offering Charlotte a smile that felt wan. “I’m sure all will be well in the morning.”
“Of course it will be.”
Tired as she was, Elizabeth lay awake for hours, worrying about Mr. Darcy’s mill. How could Mr. Darcy do such a thing? How could she love a man who owned a mill? Was he so hard hearted after all?
Elizabeth pressed her lips into a firm line. No, he wasn’t. She didn’t know what the explanation was, but there would be one. The Mr. Darcy she knew was kind. She’d misjudged him about Mr. Wickham, about his reasons for separating Jane from Mr. Bingley, and about the shilling for the Miller’s cottage. It was time she stopped her silliness and realized Mr. Darcy was a good man.
Perhaps Mr. Wickham had been in Derbyshire and spread the rumor of a mill until it was believed, as he’d done to Mr. Darcy in Hertfordshire. Perhaps there was another explanation. Whatever it was, Elizabeth resolved this time, instead of assuming the worse, she would believe in Mr. Darcy.
Chapter Nineteen
I want you to stay, as my friend and companion, as long as you like.
Elizabeth didn’t know whether to look forward to or dread the move to her former home. She had become very fond of the Lucases, particularly Lady Lucas, but it was a crowded house. Of course, she’d grown up in a crowded house, which would now seem empty by comparison.
“You are sure you don’t wish to remain at Lucas Lodge?” Sir William asked Elizabeth as servants carried the remainder of her, Charlotte’s and Susan’s possessions to a cart. “We will all miss you.”
Elizabeth smiled and shook her head. “No, thank you. I’ve very much appreciated your hospitality, but I shall be happy as a companion to Charlotte.”
“Please, stay,” Arthur said, appearing beside Elizabeth to take her hand.
She offered him a smile. “I won’t be far. You can visit me.”
“Can you still give me lessons?” Arthur asked. “Susan said you’ll still teach her to play.”
“You can’t impose on Miss Bennet that way,” John Lucas said.
Elizabeth glanced at Charlotte, who gave an almost imperceptible nod. “Yes, I can give you lessons.”
“But only for an hour at a time,” Charlotte said. “And only for four days a week.”
Arthur gave a broad smile. He hugged Elizabeth, then looked down, obviously embarrassed, and ran off. She smiled after him. With a sharp ache, she wondered if she would ever have a son.
Susan came down the stairs. “I’m ready.” Her eyes were bright with excitement to go with them, though no decision had been made as to whether her journey was temporary or permanent.
There was a flurry of goodbyes and Elizabeth, Charlotte, little William and Susan got into the Lucas’ carriage, for Charlotte hadn’t hired servants to man hers yet. Arthur appeared alongside his mother to wave as they left. Elizabeth felt a pang of sadness, though it was silly to do so. She wasn’t going far, and was with Charlotte.
It didn’t take long to get settled. Over the next week, Charlotte hired servants, many the same ones Elizabeth knew. In little time, the household was running very smoothly, although not on as grand a scale as when Mrs. Bennet had presided. The Lucases were their first dinner guests.
A few days later, Mrs. Bennet and Kitty were invited for tea. They’d deliberately chosen a time when Susan was visiting her family, not wanting to expose her to Mrs. Bennet’s
first return visit to Longbourn. Elizabeth wished she could so easily escape tea with her mother.
Not long after they sat down to tea, little William started crying. “Excuse me,” Charlotte said, standing. “I’m sure I won’t be long.” With a pleasant smile, she left the parlor.
“What is she doing, leaving us in such an impolite manner?” Mrs. Bennet said. “First, she insults us by serving us with the everyday dishes and then she leaves.”
“I suspect she’s nursing her son,” Elizabeth said. She’d expected her mother’s comment on the china.
“She’s nursing her own baby? Why didn’t she hire a wet nurse?”
“She has someone who looks after William, but she feeds him,” Elizabeth answered evenly, knowing what judgment was to come.
“Charlotte isn’t fit to own Longbourn,” Mrs. Bennet said. “Imagine, nursing her own child.”
Elizabeth exchanged a look with Kitty, who rolled her eyes. The room went silent. Elizabeth felt no need to revive conversation with her mother, and Kitty seemed to agree. They sat for several long minutes, the only sound the clicking of teacups on saucers.
“Why can’t I live here?” Mrs. Bennet burst out, looking around. “Charlotte has plenty of room. I could help her manage things. No one knows this house better than I do.”
“I don’t think Charlotte will invite you to live here,” Elizabeth said. “And I think it would be insulting to ask you to become a housekeeper.”
Mrs. Bennet looked shocked. “A housekeeper?” Her mouth gaped open and closed several times.
Elizabeth hid her amusement. Perhaps she wasn’t as above stooping to her mother’s level as Charlotte thought.
Kitty looked down at her plate, smiling.
“A housekeeper?” Mrs. Bennet repeated. She shook her head. “She must invite me as a guest. If that doesn’t work, you will invite me. She owes you her life. I should be able to live here.”
“No, Mrs. Bennet,” said Charlotte, walking into the room, rocking William in her arms.
“I don’t see why not,” Mrs. Bennet snapped. “You owe it to Elizabeth.”
“What I owe Elizabeth is between her and me,” Charlotte said firmly. “Guests that are impolite are not welcome here.”
“You would keep me from my own daughter?”
“She can visit you,” said Charlotte with a slight smile.
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows, surprised Charlotte had gotten Mrs. Bennet to implicitly concede she was impolite.
Kitty made a sound that was suspiciously reminiscent of a giggle.
“But I should be able to visit her,” Mrs. Bennet said. “It’s only fair. She is my daughter. Our children are everything to us mothers.” She looked pointedly at William.
“Obviously, Elizabeth isn’t everything to you, or you would have visited her at Lucas Lodge,” Charlotte said.
“You never visit Mary either,” Kitty added, earing herself a scowl from their mother.
“The Phillips live on the other side of Meryton. I can’t walk that far,” Mrs. Bennet said, ignoring that she walked to the Phillips for both Mary’s and Kitty’s engagement dinners. “I’ve been widowed. No one has compassion for my poor nerves. I’m living in a tiny cottage with too few servants. I don’t have a carriage.”
“Out of deference to that, I’ll order my carriage to take you home,” Charlotte said, leaving.
“You see? I shall ride in my carriage,” Mrs. Bennet said, turning back to Elizabeth and Kitty. “No thanks to you, Elizabeth. You didn’t voice a single protest at that woman’s treatment of me.” Mrs. Bennet glowered at Elizabeth. “No matter. I shall have my carriage at my disposal, and shall visit everyone I’ve been unable to see, due to my poor circumstances, the same ones you make no effort to remedy.”
Charlotte came back in, divested of William now. “It will be only a moment. Elizabeth, perhaps you would care to walk your mother out?”
“Certainly,” Elizabeth said, standing.
“I’m to leave already? I haven’t even been here a quarter hour. Your mother shall hear of your lack of manners, Mrs. Collins, mark my word.” Elizabeth knew that the visit had lasted at least a half hour, but said nothing.
“I’m sure she shall,” Charlotte said, still looking amused.
Over Mrs. Bennet’s continued haranguing, Elizabeth escorted her mother to the carriage. She was aware Charlotte held Kitty back, but couldn’t hear the words they exchanged. Elizabeth thought her friend might be asking Kitty to stay, but Kitty joined Mrs. Bennet in the carriage.
After they left, Charlotte turned to Elizabeth. “I will be instructing my servants not to let Mrs. Bennet in. I can’t have someone here who is so impolite to me.”
“I agree,” Elizabeth said, relieved she wouldn’t have to endure inflicting her mother on her friend.
“You have to agree.” Charlotte’s tone was surprisingly bitter. “Your choices are to agree with me or go to Pine Cottage.”
“I am not that servile,” Elizabeth said, surprised.
“I’ve been watching you, at Lucas Lodge and here. I don’t object, you understand. You’ve been perfect. You’ve done more work than is reasonable. You’re agreeable to everyone. At Lucas Lodge, you listened to my father’s repeated stories and made yourself indispensable. You’ve given up your independence.” Charlotte sighed. She reached out, placing a hand on Elizabeth’s arm. “I know you didn’t understand why I married Mr. Collins, but now that you’re in a worse situation than I was in, I think you might.”
“I do,” Elizabeth said, looking at the floor. “I admire your skill in solving the problem you had, the one I now have. You’ve more than paid me back.”
“No, not quite. When Mr. Darcy came after the burglary, he gave me some information.” Charlotte drew a deep breath, smiling. “Lady Catherine sold the living my late husband held and has given me the money in compensation for her mistake. I was going to give it to you earlier, and feel bad for not doing so, but my mother told me if I had a daughter, my duty to her was greater than my duty to you. I had to agree.” Charlotte sounded almost imploring, as if she worried Elizabeth would feel slighted by the consideration.
Elizabeth gaped at her friend, unsure she was hearing right. Lady Catherine had given Charlotte the worth of Mr. Collins’ living, and Charlotte was . . .
“After Willy was born, I arranged for you to have an annuity. I didn’t want you to have the money all at once, because I was afraid you would be under pressure from your mother to give it to her.” Charlotte shrugged, still looking apologetic.
“Give it to her?” Elizabeth repeated, stunned. Charlotte was giving her money?
“I’m sorry to say it’s less than your mother is receiving, and you can’t live in great comfort, but you could support yourself. You will be paid fifty pounds a quarter.”
“Fifty pounds a quarter?” That was more than enough to live on. For someone in Elizabeth’s circumstance, it was a small fortune. “You can’t do that. It’s too generous.”
“It’s too late. It is done.” Charlotte gave Elizabeth’s arm a squeeze before dropping her hand. “Now, are we even? Can I refrain from waking up every morning glad that you intervened and guilty I never repaid you?”
“No,” Elizabeth said. “It’s too much. I owe you.”
“No debts between us. If you hadn’t intervened, Willy wouldn’t have been born. He is the greatest gift anyone could give me.”
Elizabeth studied Charlotte for a long moment. She knew her friend well enough to know Charlotte spoke the truth. It was too much, to Elizabeth’s thinking, but Charlotte wouldn’t resent having given it. “Yes, of course we’re even. I never considered us otherwise.”
“Good,” Charlotte said with obvious relief. “You remove a care from my shoulders by saying so.”
“You said I can support myself.” Elizabeth swallowed, dreading what she knew must be her next words. “Do you want me to move to Pine Cottage? At least until I can find a place of my own.”
“
No,” Charlotte said emphatically. “I want you to stay, as my friend and companion, as long as you like. I want you to save some of your money so you have even more security. I want you to marry a handsome, rich man whom you love.”
Elizabeth smiled at that. There was only one man she wished to marry. Although he more than fulfilled Charlotte’s description, Elizabeth lamented ever getting to see him again. “I would love to stay.”
“Then it’s settled,” Charlotte said, smiling. “I’m off to look in on Willy. You are free to do as you like. No more making a servant of yourself because you feel you need to earn your place.”
With a lightness from the removal of a burden she hadn’t known she carried, Elizabeth took her place at the pianoforte. She realized it had been a long while since she’d played for the sheer joy of it, not to give lessons or strive to provide better entertainment for others. A smile hovered on her lips as she launched into a happy tune. Charlotte returned, sitting down with her sewing to listen.
Not long thereafter, Kitty was shown into the parlor. Elizabeth stilled her fingers, offering her sister a smile. Kitty looked tired, as anyone who spent all of their time with Mrs. Bennet must. Elizabeth could understand why her sister wouldn’t wait until fully out of mourning to marry and leave for her new home in Derbyshire.
“Am I still welcome?” Kitty asked as the maid walked away.
“Yes, you are,” Charlotte said. “You aren’t the one contesting my right to be here.”
“Thank you for warning me about your orders to the carriage driver,” Kitty said. “Mama is furious. She wanted your coachman to take her to the Longs so she could show she could visit people, but he refused. She just sat in the coach for ages, outside the cottage. When she finally got out and he left, she was so angry.”
“Well, you may remain here for the afternoon, if you need to avoid her,” Charlotte offered. “I realize my desire to be rid of her has likely made your day more unpleasant.”
“It was understandable,” Kitty said, coming in to sit down with a sigh. “I feel bad about marrying so quickly, but I can’t live with her anymore. I don’t blame you for not wanting to have tea with her.”
Believing in Darcy: A Pride and Prejudice Variation Page 15