No, how could it be? The kindness and tenderness Darcy had shown her had been genuine. He loved her, and his efforts to her family were sincere. Yet how sincere could they be if he objected to the Bennets so much that he would stoop to such levels to keep Jane and his friend apart?
Elizabeth’s mind was spinning. She needed to know who this man was because once she married him, there would be no escape for her. She read the letter over one last time, then folded it over and wrote Darcy’s name on it so Jane would not mistake it for one of hers. She partially sealed it so neither Jane or the maids would see the contents and left it down on the desk. A long walk would help her restore her feelings. She would read the letter later when she could look on it with fresh eyes and decide what else she wished to express.
Elizabeth had never felt so hurt in all her life. The fields and meadows she loved gave her no comfort as everything around her now reminded her of places she had walked with Darcy. All those times she had worried about Jane’s happiness as she found her own, and all along, the man who brought her such unexpected joy was the reason for her sister’s misery. How could Darcy have done such a thing? Right now, she felt as if she did not care if she ever saw him again. It seemed he was just as arrogant as she took him to be. And as Bingley did not appear to love Jane anymore, there was no hope her sister would find happiness with the man she loved.
The long walk did little to relieve Elizabeth’s spirits. Her head ached from the jumble of thoughts spinning around in it. It was a blessing that Darcy was surely on his way to Kent right now. There was no chance he might turn up and demand an explanation for her odd behaviour earlier.
As she turned up the lane to enter Longbourn park, she was astonished to see Bingley’s carriage sitting at the entrance to the house. She did not expect to see him once Darcy was away. It would make Jane miserable to have to sit across from the man she loved while he treated her as a stranger. Her poor sister would need Elizabeth’s comfort and support.
She rushed towards the house and ran straight to the parlour. Without pausing, she rushed into the room with an apology for not being there sooner when she was pulled up short by the sight of Bingley and Jane standing before the mantelpiece deep in conversation. They started apart when she entered the room, and the pair beamed at her, hardly able to hide their happiness.
“Jane,” said Elizabeth, looking between the pair in confusion. “What has happened?”
“Mr Bingley and I are engaged, Lizzy,” cried Jane. There were tears in her eyes. Elizabeth stared at them both in shock.
“How did this come about?” she said. Had Bingley taken advantage of Darcy’s absence to propose?
“I realised what a fool I had been and knew I could not live without your sister,” said Bingley with a smile. “So I came at once to do what I should have done months ago.”
“I must tell Mama,” said Jane. As she left the room, Elizabeth congratulated him again, trying to cover her confusion with a bright smile.
“If anything, it was your betrothed who helped me see sense,” said Bingley. “He came to me and told me Jane still loved me. I could not believe it. He urged me to come here and propose to her at once.”
“Did he?” said Elizabeth faintly. “Was this before or after this afternoon?”
“Early, as soon as he returned from Longbourn. He said he had been taking pains to get to know your sister and discover how she felt about me. Once he was confident she loved me, he told me at once to ask her to marry me.”
Elizabeth hid her shock with a smile and when the rest of her family came to join them, she took part in the celebrations as best she could, though her mind reeled and her heart soared. Yes, Darcy had been wrong to separate Jane and Bingley, but he had done all he could to rectify the situation. He made a mistake, but he behaved like an honourable man in providing the remedy. Elizabeth did not know whether to laugh with joy or sink into a chair and cry with sheer relief.
“It is wonderful news, is it not, Miss Elizabeth?”
Elizabeth turned to see their housekeeper, Hill, standing by her side. She was looking at the happy couple with misty eyes.
“Miss Bennet deserves every happiness. She has the sweetest disposition of anyone I ever met. I always said it was a crying shame that Mr Bingley left when he did.”
“Well, at least it has all come to right,” said Elizabeth. She smiled across at Jane and was so occupied in observing their happiness, she almost missed the housekeeper’s next words.
“Oh, I came across that letter in your room, Miss Elizabeth. I assumed you would wish it sent out before the gentleman leaves so I added it to the mail. Mr Darcy received it before he left for Kent.”
Elizabeth froze. Her stomach dropped in horror as Hill’s words filtered through.
“I beg your pardon?” she asked. She stared at Hill, willing her to say something else, anything else.
Hill looked at her in concern.
“The letter on your writing desk. It was sealed and addressed to Mr Darcy. I had it sent over to him as I presumed you wished me to do.”
“Oh, Hill, you did not… I had not finished that letter. Oh, please say he did not get it in time?”
“Matthew said he saw a footman hand it to the gentleman along with his other letters. I’m so sorry, Miss Elizabeth. I did not think you would seal it if you were not finished.”
“It is alright, Hill,” said Elizabeth faintly. “Can you bring tea? I am sure Mr Bingley would like some…”
“Of course, Miss Elizabeth.” Hill looked at her oddly as if not convinced by her response. “A note also arrived for you from your gentleman. It is out on the table. It arrived around the same time I sent Matthew out with yours.”
Elizabeth nodded, her mind spinning too much to say anything.
Hill left the room. Elizabeth hurried to the table where the mail was kept. She found the note with Darcy’s by now familiar handwriting and clutched it to her. She ran upstairs to her bedchamber and rushed to her desk, desperately hoping Hill referred to some other letter.
The letter was gone. Elizabeth frantically fumbled through some old pieces of paper stacked on the desk, praying to find what she knew would not be there. She had to force herself to stop searching over and over again. It was no good. Her stomach churned as she stared in defeat at the space on her writing desk where her letter had been. She turned away from it and sat down heavily on her bed.
How hateful her letter would read to him. He was never supposed to see it. It was only to aid her in sorting through her distorted thoughts, and as it turned out, it had all been for nothing.
How would Darcy take it? He was wrong to separate Jane and Bingley, but he had clearly realised his mistake. As soon as he realised he was wrong, he took pains to fix the situation.
Elizabeth remembered the note Darcy had sent her. She tore at it with trembling hands, and her heart plummeted as she read it.
“My darling Elizabeth,
I am sorry I could not see you before I left. I am concerned about your headache, and I took the liberty of sending over some headache powders that I hope will help.
I particularly wished to see you before I left. I could not tell you the full story while your family were about, and I also had reason to wish to speak with Jane; another matter I will explain when I am with you again.
My aunt is being threatened. We do not know by whom, but it seems she engaged this person to carry out an unpleasant task, and now he asks for more money, or he will expose her. She is alone and afraid with no one else to turn to, and naturally, Richard and I will do what we can to help her. We will leave the money where the desperate fellow asks and see if we can catch him and bring him to justice.
Do not worry about anything, my love. We will be safe, but I could not go away without telling you my real reasons. I will be home to you again within a few days.
I love you.
Fitzwilliam Darcy.
Elizabeth put her hand over her mouth as she reread the letter. Lady Cat
herine was being threatened, and Darcy was going to try to catch this man. How like him. How brave he was. But Elizabeth could shake him for putting himself in such danger. Did he not realise how essential he was to her?
And Elizabeth had sent him to Kent to face danger with such a hateful message to him as the last words he heard from her.
How could she have done so? Even if this event passed off safely, would he return to Hertfordshire after what she had said to him? She would not blame him if he did not.
She had to tell him how wrong she had been, but how? A note to Rosings? No, that would not do. Lady Catherine would see it first and surely destroy it. The same might happen if she sent one to Hunsford. Mr Collins had supported her marriage, but he would not displease Lady Catherine by sending a note on her behalf. Besides, it was unlikely Lady Catherine would even invite the Collinses to Rosings while all this was taking place.
Elizabeth paced her room as she considered her options. There was only one thing she could do, and her heart pounded at her daring. She would have to follow Darcy to Kent, and she would have to do so alone. There was no one she could ask to accompany her.
Her parents would not cause an obstacle to her going away for a few days. Mrs Bennet would be in a fluster about Jane’s engagement, and Mr Bennet was too indolent to concern himself with his daughters' doings. They would believe Darcy had sent a servant to accompany her to London to meet him there or make more preparations for the wedding. For the first time in Elizabeth’s life, she felt grateful to have parents who were too self-absorbed and negligent to look too deeply into their daughters’ affairs.
But women could not travel alone, especially on a public coach, without drawing censure. As the future wife of Mr Darcy, someone might recognise her. During their stay in London, many had seen her with Darcy. Enough gossip already surrounded her without risking the chance of drawing more. The wife of Mr Darcy riding about the country alone in a public coach? London society would never live it down.
But as an image came to her of Darcy reading her hateful note and carrying those words in his heart as he walked to certain danger, Elizabeth was resolved. She walked to the window and looked down over the farm. At the sight of the stables, she smiled with resignation. She would take the public coach to London and from there to Kent. And if she did not wish to be recognised, there was one thing she could do.
Chapter 33
Elizabeth pulled the hat over her head as the coach travelled closer to Hunsford. She was glad for her disguise. One of the Longbourn stable boys had travelled home to visit his family. He would not miss the breeches, shirt, hat and boots he’d left behind. They were a little large on Elizabeth, but the coat she wore hid that her breeches were held about her waist with twine. Fortunately, Tom had small feet, and his boots fit her quite comfortably, being only slightly too large.
For the first few hours, Elizabeth blushed to wear a shirt with no corset underneath, but she soon relished the ease of movement it allowed her. Although she was too pretty to look quite masculine enough, she did not attract the harassment or curiosity she would have received if she had appeared as a lady. The hat allowed her to cover her face and pretend to be asleep so no-one would look too closely at her.
And she finally understood another reason those Shakespearean heroines liked to wear men’s clothing on their adventures; they allowed her freedom of movement she would not have had otherwise. When the coach stopped at inns to change horses, Elizabeth jumped down and walked around the stable yards for no other reason than to enjoy the novelty of being able to walk and run faster than she had ever done before.
But as they entered Kent, the novelty of adventure faded away to be replaced by a knot of nerves in her stomach. They would reach Hunsford soon. How would Darcy respond when he saw her? Would he rebuff her? For the countless time, Elizabeth berated herself for leaving the letter where it might be found.
The coach stopped in the middle of Hunsford village. Elizabeth jumped out. The first person she saw was none other than Mr Collins. For a moment, she forgot what she was doing and was about to curtsey and greet him, but just in time, she recalled her disguise. She averted her eyes and was about to walk away when he called to her.
“Boy,” he said. “Help me carry this package to Rosings Park, will you, and there will be a shilling in it for you.”
Elizabeth hesitated for a moment. What should she do? Surely she would make a mistake to give herself away? But if she refused, he would demand an explanation, and what could she tell him? Besides, he gave her the perfect excuse to go to her intended destination.
“Yes, sir,” said Elizabeth averting her eyes. She helped him carry the package, keeping her eyes averted and her head down as they walked the path to Rosings Park while Mr Collins boasted about his patroness. Though Elizabeth was in a constant state of anxiety, she was relieved to know her cousin had evidently not been punished for his refusal to forbid her marriage to Darcy.
When she arrived at Rosings, there was no sign of Darcy. Well, of course there was not. Mr Collins had ordered her to carry the package to the servants’ entrance where there was little chance of her running into her betrothed. The cook took the package and bustled about as he ordered Elizabeth to wait for payment. Elizabeth stood by awkwardly. If she failed in seeing Darcy, she would need money for the coach journey back to Hertfordshire. Besides, receiving money for a service was a novel experience, and she found it curiously thrilling. As she waited for her money, two kitchen maids hurried past.
“Oh, Mr Darcy is far more handsome. The Colonel is easier to speak to, but he pales beside Mr Darcy. The things I would do to that man…” one of them giggled. Elizabeth narrowed her eyes as the other girl nudged her with a scandalised expression on her face.
“Hush, Lucy. You must not speak like that.”
“Why not? No one can…” Lucy’s voice trailed off as she saw Elizabeth. “Oh. I did not see you there,” she said.
Still annoyed at her words about her betrothed, Elizabeth fixed her with a steely look that Lucy apparently decided was a smouldering stare designed to attract her.
“I have never seen you here before. You’re a pretty fellow, aren’t you? Almost as pretty as a girl.”
To Elizabeth’s alarm, Lucy leaned against the doorframe and looked her up and down brazenly. She smiled.
“What’s your name?”
Elizabeth cleared her throat.
“Tom,” she said in a terse tone that would have rivalled Darcy at the Meryton assembly all those months ago. She glanced away with that same arrogant, uninterested look Darcy had used when she first met him. It had worked to make the hopeful mammas of Meryton give up on trying to win Darcy as a husband for their daughters, and she hoped it would have a similar effect on Lucy.
It did not.
“Well, Tom. Are you new to Hunsford? If you would like, I can show you around…”
From the look Lucy gave her, Elizabeth suspected she was not offering to show her the best place to buy bread. Fortunately, the cook came back in time with her payment. Lucy looked up in alarm and quickly hurried away though not before throwing Elizabeth a saucy wink.
Elizabeth walked away from the kitchen door in frustration. She had rather hoped the cook might send her on an errand to the main part of the house where she would encounter Darcy. She grinned as she imagined his shock if he recognised her. He would think he was dreaming. The smile faded when she wondered how he would receive her. She sent him a hurtful letter casting aspersions on his character and then turned up after travelling alone in disguise as a man. Heroes in plays might receive their lady love with joy in such situations, but she could not imagine her real-life beloved doing the same.
Elizabeth glanced behind her at the kitchen. The friendly kitchen maid was gone. No one paid any attention to her. She pulled her cap lower over her face and hurried around to the front of the house, desperate for some sign of Darcy. She glanced up at the entrance where she had walked so many evenings to sit across from
Darcy and be perplexed and irritated by how often his gaze fixed on her, that stern face with its hard lines softening into a smile when she said something particularly witty or pert. She shook her head in exasperation. How could she have been so blind? And to think she once prided herself on her judgment.
“Hey! You there!”
Elizabeth whirled around in alarm. A man she recognised as the head gardener gestured at her angrily. He started towards her.
“What are you doing there? You have no business being around the front of the house. Up to no good, are you? Get away with you before someone calls the magistrate! Or better yet, sets the groomsmen on you. Go on, get away!”
Elizabeth ducked lower in her coat and hurried away before he could reach her, her heart pounding. It would be just her luck for someone to decide she was the one who threatened Lady Catherine.
But now what was she to do?
Elizabeth turned towards the woods where she had spent so many happy hours exploring. There was only one thing left to do; the plan that had formed in her mind on her journey into Kent. Charlotte had once told her she encouraged Mr Collins to be out of the house and in his garden as often as possible. If Elizabeth went to her oldest friend, there was a good chance she would not meet Mr Collins, even if he had returned home by now. Charlotte would help her. She would take her in and find a way to tell Darcy she was there. He would come to her and Elizabeth could only hope she would find a way to convince him to forgive her.
“I don’t understand why this man would threaten you, Aunt,” said Darcy angrily. “You are making no sense. Why are you taking him seriously if you have had no dealings with him? How can he claim he has a note from you asking him to meet you? What are you not telling us?”
Lady Catherine sat in her chair, a shell of her former self. She seemed shrunken somehow, and her eyes were shadowed. Gone was her dominating spirit.
Trapped at Rosings Page 22