“You are too good; I thank you both, but it’s not necessary,” began Elizabeth.
“Not at all,” said Mrs. Gardiner. “Only let me think.” She tapped a finger to her teacup a moment before continuing. “I’ve been of a mind to visit my sister’s family in the north. What would you say to travelling with us? The children are so fond of their cousins. We’ll make quite a party.”
Elizabeth had never met Mrs. Gardiner’s sister but she was not yet recovered enough to face the questions she’d receive at Longbourn. Perhaps a tour of the north was just the thing.
“And better still,” continued Mrs. Gardiner. “If the weather stays fine, we’ll let the children stay with Fanny and continue on into Scotland for a stretch. It’s too cold to see the highlands this time of year, but we’ve some acquaintance in the southern part of the country.”
Elizabeth began to smile. “I think perhaps you have acquaintance all over the world, aunt.”
Her aunt laughed. “You might be right,” she said. “It is the nature of things, as we age. The world seems smaller all the time. But what say you, Lizzy? Shall we cast off our woes and make for Newcastle?”
Elizabeth nodded, feeling a shift in the weight on her shoulders. It was not gone, but seemed to be shared with the others, somehow. She did not carry it alone any longer.
* * *
A few days into their journey, Elizabeth’s general malaise cleared long enough for her to discern that the scenery around them was beginning to change. Her aunt and uncle had secured quite the caravan to transport them all northbound, and while she enjoyed the company of her aunt and the two eldest children with whom they travelled, the perils she’d left behind in London played over in her mind.
She wondered whether Darcy had already read her letter; she wondered what he thought. Elizabeth hated to disappoint him. She knew he’d relied on her in his time of need, in his grief, and she’d failed him. Without even the courage to reject him to his face, too; that point stung her. He’d deserved at least that, but Lady Catherine had been most insistent. She’d taken Elizabeth’s letter with her, presumably to Darcy’s home at Pemberley where she was also to deliver Georgiana.
The thought of Darcy’s sister caused another pang. Elizabeth had not said goodbye, and their shared ordeal did not necessarily acquit her of that small propriety; therefore she could not write. She must wait to hear from Georgiana first.
When hills began to rise and fall outside the window, it finally occurred to Elizabeth to ask.
“Where are we?” she asked quietly. This question she directed at her aunt, whose attention was currently unoccupied as both children had fallen asleep after their stop for luncheon.
Mrs. Gardiner leaned toward the window to observe the scene around them.
“Why, I do believe we are nearly upon Lambton,” she said with a smile. “I grew up very near here.”
“Lambton,” said Elizabeth. “In Derbyshire?”
“Why, yes,” said her aunt. Mrs. Gardiner gasped. “It had quite escaped me before, my dear. Of course. Lambton is not five miles from Pemberley.”
“Of course,” said Elizabeth.
“Are you quite alright, dear? We can perhaps find an alternate route north,” Mrs. Gardiner offered.
“No, please,” Elizabeth laughed. “Surely this is the fastest road. And I do not think Darcy – that is, his lordship – would forbid me passing through the county on the main road.”
“Of course,” said her aunt. There was a moment of silence before she spoke again. “Lizzy, I hate to see you like this. Forgive me the question, but I must ask… Did you love him so very much?”
“Love?” said Elizabeth, startled. “I scarcely knew him, aunt!”
Mrs. Gardiner hummed at her reply.
“In any case, it does not signify, whatever I felt or did not feel. Our arrangement was merely for show, and I expect any cordiality between us has been vanquished by the manner of its ending.”
“There I must contradict you,” said Mrs. Gardiner. “If he is a man of any feeling whatsoever, and surely he must be if you held him in such esteem as to have your name thus linked to his – if he has any sympathetic feeling at all, he will not resent your withdrawal after your ordeal in London. In fact, I shall be rather surprised if you do not hear from him soon.”
“Perhaps,” Elizabeth began. She’d not yet found words for the thought she wished next to express when the carriage jolted hard. The children woke from their sleep, shrieking as they were jostled, shaken about like so many pennies in a jar. With a final sharp drop, all other motion ceased.
“Come, dears, let me see you,” Mrs. Gardiner was saying, untangling the children from the pile they’d made on the floor. She clucked and cooed over them as Elizabeth pressed open the carriage door.
“Alright, miss?” asked the coachman.
“Yes,” she replied. “I think we are. Are you alright? What happened?”
“Wheel snapped clean off,” he growled. “’Twas near new-bought, too.”
Elizabeth helped her aunt and the children out of the carriage. Mr. Gardiner’s carriage had been in the lead and was already out of sight around a bend. The coachman set off on horseback to stop them leaving Mrs. Gardiner, Elizabeth, and the children to make do until he returned with the other.
“I should walk back to the village we passed awhile ago,” said Elizabeth. “We cannot be far.”
“Alone, on this road? I would have you do no such thing,” said Mrs. Gardiner. Elizabeth perceived she was already nervous about being left without any protection. “We ought to have brought more of the servants,” muttered Mrs. Gardiner. “Mr. Gardiner said so, but I didn’t want to go to the expense. Oh, and I shall never hear the end of it now.”
Elizabeth found herself smiling for the first time since she’d travelled to London.
“Really, aunt,” she replied. “I can keep out of sight if need be, and I do not mind the distance. We only passed that town a few miles back, I am sure of it.”
“Be that as it may,” said Mrs. Gardiner. “I would have you stay here with us. We’ve food enough to get by, and Peters should be back at any moment with the other coach, if they’re able to turn. I expect Mr. Gardiner has already sent a messenger ahead to arrange for someone to come fix the carriage. No, dear; better that we keep together.”
Elizabeth wanted to press the point, especially after nearly an hour passed with no sign of anyone up or down the road.
The children were amusing themselves in the grove behind a large tree some long minutes later when Elizabeth and Mrs. Gardiner heard hooves galloping toward them. They’d barely made it to their feet when the rider came into view.
“Oh, hello,” called Mrs. Gardiner. “Can you please help us?”
The rider caught sight of them and began to slow.
“Good God,” breathed Elizabeth.
“What’s wrong? Lizzy, you’ve gone pale. Whatever is the matter?”
“It’s him,” she whispered. “That’s the Earl of Matlock.”
Chapter 17
“What do you mean, you left her there?” Darcy had said. His aunt had arrived that morning, her daughter Anne and an exhausted Georgiana in tow.
“We came to an agreement,” Lady Catherine had replied. “And do not raise your voice to me, Fitzwilliam. Had you come to Kent when I bade you come, I would not have been forced into the foul company of George Wickham and his ilk.” At the mention of Wickham’s name, Georgiana had paled and promptly sat.
“It’s my fault,” she’s said, clearly on the verge of tears.
“It most certainly is not. If anyone’s at fault here, it’s George Wickham,” Darcy had said. He’d wanted to rage but his sister was frightened enough, and rage would have no discernable effect on Lady Catherine in any case save to affirm her own sense of moral superiority.
“She sends you this,” Lady Catherine had said. She’d handed him a folded piece of paper, unsealed.
Darcy was grown tired of unexpected notes. They never see
med to bode well for him.
This one had been no exception.
Elizabeth wrote to excuse herself from their arrangement, saying she no longer wished to play any part and that she would not be swayed from that objective any longer; she was gone to stay with aunt and uncle and would not be returning to Hertfordshire anytime soon. Lady Catherine had not seen fit to find out their address, much less to bring Elizabeth with her to Pemberley. Instead, Lady Catherine was keen to begin planning for his future countess.
Darcy had readily disabused her of that notion when, on reading Elizabeth’s note, he’d sent for his horse at once. He’d deal with the issue of George Wickham later – it was paramount he find Elizabeth. He needed her now more than ever.
Georgiana liked her. She’d said as much after they’d watched Lady Catherine drive away, her temper high after he refused to come to heel. Darcy clung to Georgiana’s words, letting them keep him together as he set off down the main road for London.
He couldn’t have made it more than three miles when he saw a distressed carriage alongside the road. It was outside his ability to leave people in need so close to his own home – he slowed his horse to a stop.
“My lord,” said a familiar voice. Miss Elizabeth Bennet made a deep curtsy from her perch on a knoll next to the road. He fancied her voice quavered a little, but he dared not perceive why.
Darcy dismounted, finding himself suddenly without hurry. He began tying off his horse to the carriage.
“Miss Bennet,” he said without turning. “You seem to be having some trouble.”
“Our carriage, yes,” she said. The woman standing next to her cleared her throat. He’d not marked her at first. “Oh, your pardon. My lord, allow me to introduce you. This is Mrs. Gardiner, my aunt. The carriage belongs to my uncle, who has gone some distance up the road ahead.”
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance,” said Darcy politely. “The coachman left you here alone?”
“We sent him to stop Mr. Gardiner, and to fetch help after,” said Elizabeth.
“You should not have been left alone,” said Darcy, becoming cross.
“We had no choice,” said Elizabeth. “Not if we wished to make the Lake District by next week.”
“Excuse me,” said Mrs. Gardiner. “I must see to the children.” She disappeared behind the massive tree, leaving Darcy alone with Elizabeth.
He did not speak for a moment and she seemed to prefer the silence. He studied her face, looking for any sign of trauma. Any mark on her was another he’d make sure George Wickham suffered when Darcy dealt with him once and for all. Her color rose at his scrutiny, but he discerned no outward injury to her person.
“Were you harmed? In any way?” he asked quietly. It was the question he feared most, but he had to know.
“No,” she said, her gaze darting up to his face. She saw his meaning in his face. “You mean, did they…”
He nodded, the tension inside him unbearable. His imagination tortured him with how she must have been abused.
“No,” she said softly. “No.”
Darcy turned on his heel and breathed once more. The illusion of privacy was enough; he composed himself and turned back to face her.
“How is your sister?” she asked, hesitant.
“She is recuperating,” he said. “I’ve only just left her in the care of my cousin, Anne. I think this experience will have cured her of any tender feeling she had for George Wickham.”
“I can imagine so,” said Elizabeth.
Silence descended once more. Darcy took the liberty of inspecting the wheel of their carriage. He’d no idea what might have caused the break, but the piece was ruined; there would be no repair.
“I think you must hate me,” Elizabeth said softly after a long while.
“Hate you?” he said, astonished. “Of course I do not hate you.”
“But I have disappointed you,” she said. “I am sorry.”
“You have nothing to apologize for. George Wickham would never have come near you were it not for me.” That fact cut him deepest; the entire ordeal would never have happened had Darcy not insisted on her going to London; nor could Wickham have imposed himself on her if they’d never spoken of courtship in the first place.
Elizabeth was spared whatever pitying reply she might have made by the sound of approaching horses. Mr. Gardiner’s carriage came around the bend swiftly, alighting just aside the broken-down vessel. Mr. Gardiner launched himself out of the carriage in an obvious panic.
“Elizabeth!” he cried. “Are you alright? Where is Mrs. Gardiner? Where the children?”
“We are here!” called Mrs. Gardiner. She and the children appeared, back from their play in the nearby clearing. “We’re here.”
“Oh, thank goodness,” said Mr. Gardiner. He nearly lost his footing, so great was his relief.
“And none of us the worse for wear, uncle” said Elizabeth, for he’d clearly assumed the worst.
“So I see,” said Mr. Gardiner, hugging the children before directing them to get in his carriage with their siblings. The adults were left standing alongside the road.
“Oh!” exclaimed Elizabeth. “My lord, allow me to introduce to you my uncle, Mr. Gardiner. Uncle Gardiner, may I present the Earl of Matlock.”
“The would-be fiancé, eh?” said Mr. Gardiner, unimpressed. “Excuse my frankness, my lord, but your friend Mr. Wickham has rendered you most unfavorably.”
“There can be no excuse,” said Darcy quietly. “No excuse and no apology great enough for exposing your niece to that danger. I can only refute your calling George Wickham my friend; he has not been that to me or to my family for some years now.”
“Hm,” said Mr. Gardiner. Darcy would not defend himself when he considered the responsibility his and his alone; yet he thought he perceived a softening in the other man’s countenance. “Be that as it may. Perhaps you would be so kind as to excuse us, my lord; the children are quite ready to be underway.”
“Are you yet travelling?” asked Darcy.
“We are expected a few days hence by my sister in Newcastle, sir,” said Mrs. Gardiner, glancing briefly at Elizabeth.
“I see,” said Darcy.
Elizabeth had not intended to come to Pemberley at all, then.
They were bound for Newcastle. She’d no intention of seeing him here. Were it not for a failed carriage wheel, she might be gone from him forever.
Darcy’s heart hard beat within his chest.
“Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, I would not importune your family any longer, but while you wait on the carriage, will you consider joining me for tea? Pemberley is but three miles hence, and could perhaps be more comfortable for you and your children than waiting at the inn in town.” Darcy knew not what prompted the invitation, particularly when the Gardiners could not possibly be inclined to think well of him. He only knew that he could not let Elizabeth leave – not yet.
There was still too much unsaid.
* * *
The Gardiners were well pleased with Pemberley. It was his childhood home, so perhaps Darcy’s own sentiment colored his perception at times; their approbation reminded him that his judgement, at least in this aspect of his life, was not false. Given a garden for play and servants enough to attend them, the Gardiner children made no disturbance in the house as Darcy escorted their parents and cousin through the halls of his home.
He wished to know Elizabeth’s opinion most keenly, but her expression was placid and had been since their arrival. He dared not guess at her thoughts.
When time enough had passed that his visitors began to anticipate their exit, Darcy could contain himself no more.
“You know, Mr. Gardiner,” Darcy said over his tea, as though the idea had only just occurred to him. “The late Earl had several holdings in Newcastle. I’ve put them off, as I’ve never yet laid eyes on them, but I’ll need to visit them sooner or later. If I could be of assistance during the rest of your travel, perhaps I might join you for the remaining str
etch of your journey north.”
“Capital idea!” said Mr. Gardiner. An afternoon in Darcy’s home had altered the man’s demeanor dramatically. “Please do, my lord. It would be most gratifying to continue our conversation regarding that fishing expedition you mentioned.”
Darcy observed Mrs. Gardiner’s eyes widen but could not discern the cause. On hearing his request Elizabeth had turned to gaze out the window. He suspected she was not studying the view of the garden as she appeared to be doing. Had he displeased her? If she did not desire his company, he may well have lost any hope of her.
But the wheels were already in motion, for Mr. Gardiner was talking of the stops they’d planned to make, and of Mrs. Gardiner’s sister and brother-in-law, in whose home they would be guests on their arrival.
A messenger arrived a short time later with news that the Gardiners’ carriage was at last repaired. At Darcy’s instructions, his trunks were added to the load it carried.
* * *
Elizabeth was entirely discomfited by Darcy’s addition to their travelling party. What could he possibly mean by it?
He had not yet mentioned her letter, nor had any one among them alluded to the nature of their association. Rather, her aunt and uncle Gardiner seemed to be treating him as though he was still courting her.
Despite the fact that their understanding had been purely for the sake of theatre, Elizabeth could scarcely bear the humiliation she felt. Her own behavior shamed her, that she’d agreed to go along with the charade at all. She felt the weight of her own moral judgement every moment now, and wondered once more just what had possessed her to have agreed to his scheme.
Moreover, what possessed him to contrive it? It made her angry with him, even as she recognized her feelings had ceased to make sense.
Elizabeth knew from long experience that distraction worked as well as any other thing to ameliorate distemper, so she occupied most of her time at Pemberley by playing with the Gardiner children. The weather was fine and after days of being cooped up in carriages, they were all of a mind to make the most of the afternoon outdoors.
Fitzwilliam Darcy Page 10