Chapter 17
JANE AND ELIZABETH WERE invited to return to Meryton the next morning to attend their aunt Mrs. Philips. They enjoyed an early breakfast and set out, walking the well-trod path from Longbourn to the village. They had not seen Mr. Darcy during breakfast, which for Elizabeth’s peace of mind was most welcome. She had not slept well again, still disturbed by the overheard conversation between the servants.
The two had gone only a little way before Elizabeth asked her sister whether they might alter their route to pass by the cottage of Sally’s family.
“Certainly, if you wish it,” replied Jane, “but is not Sally at Longbourn?”
“I did not see her this morning. I fear she might be ill.”
“I am sure she is not. Mrs. Hill would have mentioned it. Perhaps she was attending her duties to Mr. Darcy.”
“You may be right, but what if someone else — her mother or brother — is ill? Jane, it would ease my mind to see for myself.”
“Very well, it shall be as you wish.”
They were such a distance from home that neither was aware of the arrival at Longbourn of a coach from London.
* * *
Darcy felt the absence of Sally keenly. Bartholomew had to do the work of two, and they were so behind their time that Darcy had breakfast in his parlor bedroom while his valet struggled to shave him. He had finally finished when Mrs. Hill announced the arrival of a party from Town. Behind her was a plump, middle-aged woman well-known to Darcy. He had used the nurse before when Georgiana was ill with a cold in London.
“Ah, Mrs. Adams! You made good time. I hope your journey was not too tiresome?”
The nurse curtsied with a smile. “No trouble at all, sir. You have a most delightful carriage. We set off at first light, and here we are. I am grieved, however, to find you in such a state. Are you in much pain, may I ask?”
Darcy briefly explained his injury and the prognosis. By then, Mr. Bennet had made an appearance.
“Sir,” said Darcy, “here is the nurse I spoke about, Mrs. Adams. Madam, this is my host, Mr. Bennet.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Adams.” He turned to Darcy. “Are you certain I cannot be of use to you?”
“I thank you for your offer, but I shall not presume further on your hospitality. I have secured a room at the Meryton Inn for Mrs. Adams.”
“My needs are small, Mr. Bennet. I am sure my room will be sufficient,” claimed the nurse. “Pray allow me a moment to freshen up, and I shall be about my work. I have my instructions from Mr. Macmillan, and I will have you back on your feet and returned to London in no time, Mr. Darcy.”
“Good,” mumbled Bartholomew.
* * *
The little cottage was on a lane off the main road to Meryton. Elizabeth and Jane had barely started down the path before they beheld two vehicles, a coach and a wagon, in the lane before the little house. The cottage was in a state of upheaval; trunks and boxes were scattered about just outside the door, and strangers were moving things about. The Bennet girls gasped and quickened their steps.
When Elizabeth saw three people enter the carriage, she broke into a full run, disregarding the cries from Jane. She reached the vehicle just as the driver ascended to the box. To her horror, Elizabeth saw a weeping Sally inside.
“Sally — Sally!” she cried. “What is happening? Where are you going?”
Sally struggled with the window and could not lower it until the carriage began to move. She stuck out her tear-lined face. “Oh, Miss Lizzy, good bye! Good bye! God bless you and your family!”
“Sally! Where are you going?”
The noise of the wheels drowned out the young maid’s voice. It soon turned onto the main road and out of sight.
“Why are Sally and her family in that carriage? cried Jane as she reached her. “What is happening here?”
Elizabeth took in the chaos of moving with dread. “I fear Sally’s family has departed Meryton! But why?” She boldly walked over to one of the workmen in the yard who was carrying a chair. “You there!” she demanded. “What are you doing with that?”
The man, large and unkempt, scowled as he set his burden down. “An’ who are ye to be askin’?”
Not intimidated in the least, Elizabeth drew herself up to her full height but reached only to the man’s chin. “I am Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and those are the belongings of my servant and her family. You will tell me what you are doing with them.”
“Well, ma’am, I’m movin’ things out of that there cottage, now ain’t I?” he said with a grin, his few teeth fully visible. Meanwhile, two other men began loading the crates onto the wagon.
“Why are you doing that?” Elizabeth pointed down the lane where the carriage had passed. “And where are they going?”
The man smiled again. “Beggin’ your pardon, ma’am, but I’m thinkin’ that’s none o’ your concern. An’ me master don’t pay me for gossiping in th’ road, so I’ll expect you’ll excuse me.”
“Your master? And who is your master?”
“I’m thinkin’ that’s none o’ your concern, neither. I’ve got me papers provin’ my authority, but them’s for the magistrate, an’ he ain’t you, beggin’ your pardon again.” The workman knuckled his hat. “I’ve got me a wagon to load. Good day to ye, ma’am.” And with that, he returned to his labors.
Stunned, Elizabeth stood still in the road. Never in her life had anyone spoken to her that way.
“Oh, Lizzy,” cried Jane. “I fear that Sally’s family has lost their home.”
“I do not understand it. If they were in distress, why would they leave? Surely, Father would have helped.”
Jane agreed but sounded less certain. “Or, perhaps, Mr. Darcy — ”
In an instant, Elizabeth remembered the overheard discussion from the night before. “Mr. Darcy! Oh Lord, Mr. Darcy! It could not be true, could it?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Oh, I must return to Longbourn as quickly as may be!”
“But Aunt Philips is expecting us.”
“Pray make my excuses, Jane. I cannot delay an instant!” With that, Elizabeth dashed down the lane, leaving a confused Jane in her wake.
After she had gone a short distance, Elizabeth slowed to a fast walk, but her mind remained in turmoil. When she first met Mr. Darcy, she was impressed by his arrogance, conceit, and selfish disdain of the feelings of others. Nothing during her stay at Netherfield Park changed her opinion. Mr. Darcy cared for no one but his relations, his close acquaintances, and those of his particular station, she was convinced. Yet, since his accident, for which she still owned a measure of blame, Elizabeth had been forced to revise her condemnation of the gentleman.
True, he still liked to have things his way and had acted in a manner that she considered high-handed, but it was not out of the common way for persons of quality. Mr. Darcy was undoubtedly a devoted brother and faithful friend. Georgiana doted on him, and it was plain that Colonel Fitzwilliam would do anything for the gentleman should his cousin but ask. Bartholomew’s fierce defense of any perceived slight to his master spoke of the loyalty Mr. Darcy could inspire in people in service to him. It was obvious that Mr. Darcy also had won the admiration of Longbourn’s staff — a fact not lost on Elizabeth or her father.
The thought of her father caused Elizabeth to sigh. His determined dislike of Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth was now persuaded, was rooted in the recognition of the poor example he made as a gentleman and master in comparison to Mr. Darcy. Mr. Bennet had not been a gracious host, had sulked and complained when he was not mocking, and had expressed little thanks for the service Mr. Darcy had been to the Bennet family.
Mr. Darcy had been uncommonly kind to her sisters. Jane, Mary, Kitty — even Lydia had fallen under his spell. Mrs. Bennet now hung the moon on the man.
As for herself, Elizabeth could not forget Mr. Darcy’s valiant defense of her in the face of Mr. Collins’s vulgar presumption. The words he used! Only Elizabeth’s good sense
prevented her romantic heart from running away with her, wishing for things that could never be. She told herself repeatedly that Mr. Darcy was a very good man and would do the same for anyone in a similar predicament.
Which was why Elizabeth now was so distressed. Sally was no longer at Longbourn. Her family had left Meryton, perhaps forever. The only reason Elizabeth could imagine was that Sally had been dismissed from her employment. Why? What had she done?
She spilled wine on Mr. Darcy.
Elizabeth shuddered. She was not an ignorant country miss, no matter what Miss Bingley thought. She had been to Town. She knew some men could be capricious and cruel. She had heard of servants, particularly maids, dismissed from service for not complying with the carnal desires of their employers. It was not out of the question that a member of the ton might demand the removal of a clumsy serving woman, even if that gentleman was a guest in someone else’s house.
Could Mr. Darcy do such a thing? Would he? Did he?
Elizabeth was tortured, and her anxiety increased with every step she took toward Longbourn. She had overcome her first impression of Mr. Darcy, but what if she had been in error? Had it all been an act?
Or perhaps he owned an ungovernable temper. She recalled his words at Netherfield: “My temper would perhaps be called resentful. My good opinion, once lost, is lost forever.”
Elizabeth shuddered again. She longed to be at Longbourn, to talk to her father — and Mr. Darcy.
Please, God, let me be wrong!
Minutes later, Elizabeth finally crossed the threshold of her family home. However, the first person she spied was not Mrs. Hill, or any other Longbourn servant, but a woman she had never seen before.
Without another thought and in violation of all propriety, Elizabeth blurted out, “Who are you?”
The middle-aged woman, dressed like a servant, took in Elizabeth in a heartbeat. She must have determined that she was a lady in the household, for she completed a quick curtsy and answered, “Good day to you, miss. I am Mrs. Adams.”
Elizabeth remembered her manners. “I am Miss Elizabeth Bennet. You are new here. Has my father employed you?”
“No, ma’am. I am in service to Mr. Darcy. I am his nurse.”
Elizabeth’s heart dropped as all her fears were proven true. Mr. Darcy had shown his true colors. He had a poor, helpless, harmless girl dismissed, endangering her family, just because she ruined a single shirt. Her father would not have turned Sally out; he had not the cruelty. Mr. Darcy must have made him do it.
Elizabeth’s anger rose as quickly as her hopes faded. So it had all been a lie. The gifts, the lessons, the kindness — the friendship! Elizabeth had been right in her first assessment: Mr. Darcy was a cold, ruthless man who thought nothing of destroying a destitute and unprotected servant!
I am sure this is the common way in London, but Hertfordshire is not Town! We do things better here, and I will be happy to inform him of that. Mr. High-and-Mighty Darcy! You will not pass this day without knowing my mind on what you have done!
Elizabeth was furious when she barged into the parlor.
* * *
“I am defeated, sir! It is utterly ruined!”
Bartholomew held up a silk shirt with a large, pink blotch on it.
Darcy could not hide a smile at his valet’s expense. “Bartholomew, I believe you feel far too deeply about the matter.”
“But, sir, just look at it! I can do nothing with it.” The man was truly disgusted. “Fine silk from Chamberlin’s of London, and all it is fit for is rags!”
“I can have another shirt made.”
Bartholomew continued to complain as though his master had said nothing. “Clumsy girl! She had best mind her steps at Argyle, or the viscountess will have her on the road in no time.”
Darcy frowned. He knew his man needed to express his frustration, but this was a bit much. Sally had not intended to spill wine on him, and it was time to put an end to the issue. “Bartholomew, pray desist your — ”
Darcy was unable to finish, for in that instant the door was thrown open, and in marched Elizabeth Bennet. Her eyes flew to the garment the valet was still displaying.
“Miss Elizabeth!” Bartholomew cried. “It is ruined!”
Elizabeth’s fine eyes, now sparking with anger, turned on Darcy, but his attention was still on his valet. “That is enough, man. I am done with shirts and maids. The matter is closed.” He turned to Elizabeth. “Miss Elizabeth, good morning. How may — ”
“How could you?!”
“I beg your pardon?”
Elizabeth began pacing about the room in an agitated manner. “I knew I should not have trusted you! I knew it! From the very beginning — from the first moment, I may almost say — of my acquaintance with you, your manners impressed me with the fullest belief of your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain of the feelings of others. But even after all your offenses against myself — ”
“Offenses?”
“I never dared dream that you could be as cold and unfeeling as to ruin, perhaps forever, the happiness and security of a most devoted servant!”
Mr. Darcy was perplexed and offended. “Miss Elizabeth, I must ask you to explain yourself!”
“Nay, it is you who must explain!” By now tears were running down her fair face, and she angrily dashed them away. “Was it for sport? Did it amuse you? You and your gifts and lessons and horses! It was all a trick to win my family’s approval. Did you not hold them all in disgust? Have you been laughing at us the whole time?” She began to sob. “And just when I thought . . . I began to hope . . . friendship — ”
“Miss Elizabeth, please! I do not understand your anger! How have I offended you? Please explain yourself!” He was utterly confused.
“You deserve no explanation! You know what you did to Sally and her family, and it merits the severest condemnation!”
Darcy shook his head. “It was not my intention that you should have learned of this, but why the distress, madam? Condemnation for what, may I ask?” Darcy’s voice rose. “Your father and I have secured Sally a new position. She shall not suffer; indeed, I flatter myself she is better off now than before. I am sorry it displeases you.” He had no idea how pompous he sounded.
“Of course, I am displeased! You have persuaded my own father to participate in an injustice! You sent Sally away from the only home she has ever known!”
“She had to leave — ”
“Because she spilled wine on your precious shirt!”
In a cold voice, Darcy said, “No, so that employment also could be found for her mother and brother.”
“What did you say?”
Darcy turned to the window. “Positions have been secured for Sally’s entire family. Their new employer is a man of good character and will treat them well. They journey to join in service to him.” He could not look at Elizabeth for all the world.
“You . . . you found work for all of Sally’s family? Why?” Her voice was low, nearly a whisper.
But Darcy was too angry to note her change of attitude. He answered in a clipped, harsh voice, “You are unhappy about this turn of events, and I shall not further pain you by continuing this conversation. All I shall say is that what was done was done for the best, and I feel not the slightest regret for it.” Darcy paused. “Miss Elizabeth, I believe we have said more than we should about this unpleasant situation. You are obviously dissatisfied with the solution that was found for the distress of Sally’s family. However, it profits neither of us to continue this discussion. I must beg you to excuse me.”
Darcy heard a gasp from the lady, then a sob, and finally her light footsteps as she fled the room, but he continued to sit and stare out the window for some time, refusing to turn. All his hopes and plans were ashes. Elizabeth had not warmed to him as he had hoped. No, she still held him in low regard. What else could explain her jumping to such an unjust conclusion? It did not matter that he was right and she wrong. It would not signify that she might apolo
gize later. The point was she did not trust him, and that had to be rooted in her disinclination. It was foolish to believe any longer that he could change her mind about him.
Elizabeth Bennet would never be his. He could not stay in Hertfordshire a moment longer.
He turned anguished eyes to his thoroughly mortified valet. “Bartholomew, pack my trunks. We leave for London as soon as may be.”
Chapter 18
A DISTRAUGHT ELIZABETH DISCOVERED upon leaving the parlor that there was an audience to her confrontation with Mr. Darcy. Not only was Mr. Darcy’s nurse without but so were Lydia, Kitty, and Mrs. Bennet. To her horror, Elizabeth also saw Mary, Georgiana, and Mrs. Annesley standing in the doorway of the sitting room across the hall, a piece of music in Mary’s limp hand. Elizabeth was convinced that the whole of the household had been witness to her shame.
“What have you done, you foolish child? Why were you shouting at Mr. Darcy? Do you wish to shatter all your chances with him?” She took Elizabeth by the forearm. “Explain yourself, young lady!”
Elizabeth could not say anything for all the world. Instead, she shook off Mrs. Bennet’s grasp and fled upstairs as fast as her feet could take her. Only her familiarity with the house prevented her from harm, for her tears had quite blinded her. In a moment, she was in her room, locking her door before her shocked sisters, who had followed. Throwing herself onto her bed, Elizabeth gave over to her injured sensibilities and drenched her pillow with weeping, ignoring the pounding and pleading from the hallway.
Her mind was in anguish. How could she so misconstrue what had happened? How could she have said so many hateful things to Mr. Darcy? Was it true? Had he and her father secured new positions for Sally and all of her family? Why would Mr. Darcy do that? And why was it that she continued to think the worst of him?
The pain in Mr. Darcy’s eyes, the coldness of his dismissal! Elizabeth had observed it, and instantly understood — her power was sinking; everything must sink under such a proof of insensibility, such an assurance of irrational behavior and insulting speech, of hateful opinions and unjust accusations! Elizabeth felt herself in the deepest disgrace. How Mr. Darcy must hate her! She could neither wonder nor condemn.
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