A Certain Something

by Cassandra B Leigh

  “Indeed, I have always thought there could be no place finer than the peaks, but your Oakham Mount lives up to every accolade.”

  Her quiet sigh set his pulse racing. “I do love my little corner of the world.”

  He pressed his lips together, attempting to compose his scattered thoughts. Never had he felt her danger more than this moment; the time to withdraw had come. “I must take my leave of you. Tomorrow I return to town with Miss Bingley and the Hursts.”

  Her serene smile faded, and she averted her eyes to the ground. “Jane will be so disappointed. She has enjoyed their company.”

  He noticed she did not mention her own disappointment at the party’s departure. “The ladies insist on following Charles to town, and I cannot stay without a host.”

  “No, of course. I shall be sorry to lose your company.”

  “It has been my pleasure meeting you, and I hope we may meet again someday.”

  “I would like that.”

  “May I escort you home?”

  She accepted his arm, and they walked down the trail together, with his horse following behind. Sensing her disappointment, he could think of nothing else to say. She also remained silent until they reached the edge of the Longbourn meadow. Insisting she would be perfectly safe on her own property, she made her curtsy and walked on alone.

  Assailed by a heaviness in his chest he had not felt since his father’s death, he watched her until she disappeared behind a tree, then stared at the same tree long after she had gone. A nudge from his horse interrupted his reverie. He mounted and rode towards Netherfield, recalling how the light had faded from Elizabeth’s eyes when she’d learned of his plans to return to London. Even though he had known he would have to leave her someday, he had not expected a difficult parting. He had never mourned the loss of a female acquaintance before but neither had he known a woman quite like Elizabeth Bennet.

  ***

  Alone in her chamber, Elizabeth studied her reflection in the looking glass, hoping to solve the mystery of the shimmering glow. She had observed the phenomenon again as she stood with Darcy at the top of Oakham Mount, but it now confused her more than ever. She knew for certain that she loved him, but no light emanated from her own body.

  “I love you, Mr Darcy,” she said aloud, recalling how the air had sparkled around him, despite his forlorn expression. No glow appeared in the glass.

  “Caroline Bingley is the loveliest, most enviable woman of my acquaintance.” No hazy mist appeared at this blatant falsehood; this appellation solely belonged to Jane.

  As in the past, she frequently tested her reflection for the same nebulous air she saw around others, and as usual, she detected no alteration in herself. Abandoning this fruitless endeavour, she reclined on her bed, closing her eyes to calm her muddled thoughts. She had been so certain that the glowing light had indicated love, but perhaps it had an entirely different meaning that she had yet to learn. Years ago, she had no notion that the grey mist denoted deception. It was not until she had gained some experience with it that she had determined the meaning.

  Jane and Bingley were both modest and sincere souls; could the shimmery air reflect their virtues? Perhaps it reflected their good health or their kindred spirits. Did Darcy also share one of those noble attributes? He was an honourable man. Could that be the answer?

  Certainly, it could not be love. If he loved her, he would have declared himself—or at least hinted that he might return someday. However, he had said nothing to raise her hopes.

  She groaned at her own stupidity. Why had she had allowed herself to be swept away with a fantasy that a handsome man of means had noticed her? If I am disillusioned, I have only myself to blame.

  Fortunately, she’d never told anyone about the shimmering light and was now glad she had kept it to herself. How foolish she would have appeared to have made such a bold presumption about Darcy’s intentions.

  You should not have allowed yourself to indulge in ridiculous dreams, Lizzy. Darcy would never consider such an unequal match. She resolved to think of him no more, but despite her efforts, her thoughts drifted back to Netherfield, where she danced with a handsome gentleman with gentle hands.

  Later that night when she was alone with Jane, she told the story of her trip to the mount with Darcy. “They are all leaving tomorrow.”

  Jane’s eyes flew open wide. “But Mr Bingley told me of his intention to return in a few days.”

  “Then he shall,” Elizabeth said, sincerely hoping that Bingley’s sisters would not use their influence to prevent his return.

  Jane relaxed her shoulders but still wore a frown. “Despite knowing of the lieutenant’s perfidy, Mr Darcy’s warning about him is disturbing. He must have hurt someone close to the Darcys.”

  Elizabeth agreed, knowing without question that Darcy had spoken truthfully about Wickham. There had been no hint of grey around him, only the mysterious shimmering light. Now she wished she had never seen it.

  “I am sorry Mr Darcy is going away,” Jane said.

  “I fear I have seen the last of him,” Elizabeth whispered, her breath catching in her throat.

  Jane wrapped an arm around her. “We must not despair, Lizzy. Perhaps he will return with Mr Bingley.”

  Lovely Jane, so full of hope and promise; however, Elizabeth could not share her sister’s optimism. Unlike Bingley, Darcy had given her no assurances, nor made any mention of ever coming back to Hertfordshire. He was forever lost to her.

  Chapter 13

  On Thursday morning, as on most mornings, scents and sounds from the kitchen awakened Elizabeth. Mrs Hill had started her morning routine: waking the chickens to gather eggs, drawing water from the pump, and baking savoury bread. On any other morning, Elizabeth would have arisen, dressed, and been out the door for her morning ramble. Today, however, she remained abed, her thoughts at Netherfield and the party about to leave Hertfordshire, probably forever.

  Of course, the prospect of never seeing Caroline or the Hursts again gave her no cause to repine, but they were taking Darcy with them. The man she loved who had not declared himself nor given her any reason to expect his attentions would soon be gone. Ha! Why should she pine for such a man? Yes, he had every quality she would want in a husband; he was intelligent, kind, thoughtful, and handsome. His reserved temperament was probably the result of a stern upbringing, but did not detract from his appeal.

  However, now that he had chosen to walk away, perhaps she was better off without him. She was not one to stagger when life threw a disappointment into her path. She would merely leap over it and carry on as she had always done. Throwing the bedcovers aside, she rose, bathed, dressed, and bundled up in her warmest cloak. She would have her morning walk, like every other day of the year, and would release all regrets. No man, even if he did have ten thousand a year, would ruin her day.

  By the time she returned to the house, she no longer harboured any hard feelings towards Darcy. She had convinced herself that if he did not love her, he had been right to leave. She would never marry without affection and, in all likelihood, neither would he. But she had found a good friend in him and a better understanding of the type of man she would want to marry.

  After breakfast, Elizabeth and her sisters walked to Meryton to visit their aunt, Mrs Phillips. Upon their entry into town, she froze in place as she observed Denny approach with Wickham, the last person in the world she wanted to see. However, Kitty called out to them. “We missed you at the ball, Mr Wickham.” Mary and Lydia each grasped Kitty’s arms and held her tightly.

  The officers made their bows, and Wickham approached Elizabeth, but she clung to Jane, refusing to acknowledge him. However, he seemed not to notice, greeting her with a friendly tone and a charming smile, as though they were old friends. How had she ever considered him handsome?

  “I regret that I missed the festivities. I found, as the time drew near, I could not bear to be in the same room with Mr Darcy. I feared unpleasant scenes might arise.”

&n
bsp; Indeed, Elizabeth thought. For example, your exposure as a liar, cheater, and fortune hunter. Although infuriated, she reminded herself to be cautious and maintained a pleasant tone. “That was most unfortunate, sir, but I suspect you made the right decision.”

  “Come, girls, we must hurry. Our aunt expects us,” Jane said, taking Lydia’s free arm and urging her sisters away from Wickham.

  Wickham followed beside them. “Denny and I will accompany you to your destination.”

  “You must not trouble yourself, sir,” Elizabeth said, increasing the pace to hurry her sisters along. Although no dark cloud surrounded him, she wanted nothing to do with him.

  “’Tis no trouble to be in the company of such lovely ladies.” Wickham walked next to her, seeming unfazed by her attempts to avoid him.

  Glancing at Denny, she observed nothing out of the ordinary; he smiled in his usual way as he walked next to Wickham. Despite the urge to upbraid Wickham for his shameful past, she kept her arm locked with Jane’s and her eyes focused on her uncle’s house.

  The front door flew open, and Mrs Phillips rushed out, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders. “At last you are here, my dear nieces. I feared you had been injured,” she said, wildly gesturing towards the house. “Thank you, gentlemen, for seeing them safely to me.” She bustled the girls inside, shut the door, and drew the bolt. “Good heavens, seeing you with Wickham gave me such a fright. Your uncle has warned me about his true character; he is a scoundrel and a womaniser. To think I invited him to dine at my own table with all of you here; my blood runs cold.”

  “What do you mean, Aunt?” Kitty said.

  “Your uncle heard it from Colonel Forster himself. He tried to elope with a girl no older than you, Lydia, and all for her fortune. No, he shall never be welcomed into this house again, to be sure, nor any other, if I am not mistaken.”

  This information gave Elizabeth pause. Hadn’t Mr Darcy mentioned something to the same effect on Oakham Mount? She gasped, recalling the black cloud when Wickham spoke of Miss Darcy at the card party. Could she be the girl? No wonder Darcy mistrusted Wickham.

  Relieved of their bonnets and pelisses, Elizabeth and her sisters joined their aunt in the drawing room as she continued her criticism of the lieutenant. “The colonel also warned the local shopkeepers that Wickham has a habit of reneging on his debts. He shall have no credit extended to him—of that you can be sure.”

  Elizabeth recalled hearing the same story in the Netherfield library. “Mr Darcy told me that he was forced to pay the lieutenant’s debt when he fled Derbyshire.”

  Aunt Phillips clucked her tongue. “I can easily believe it, my dear! Poor Mr Darcy, to be plagued with such an unsavoury connection. At least the colonel has kept his word by having another officer accompany Wickham when he comes to town. I am convinced that Denny will not let him run wild.”

  Since Elizabeth had only seen Wickham with Denny present, she had not found anything unusual in encountering the two men together. Were they not friends before Wickham enlisted in the militia? Unlike her aunt, she wondered if she could rely on Denny to keep Wickham in check.

  After sharing other news from town, Mrs Phillips called for her carriage to take the girls home. “Remember, my lovelies,” she said as she saw them off. “Wickham is not to be trusted. You must not let your guard down for a single moment.”

  Elizabeth thanked her aunt for her timely intervention and for seeing to their safety. With Mrs Phillips’s love of gossip, the word would quickly spread to other women in the community. It seemed everyone needed protection from the dark lieutenant.

  ***

  Ignoring the heaviness in his chest, Darcy gazed out the window as the carriage sped down the road towards London and away from Meryton. Sitting in the rear-facing seat with Hurst, he watched as they rode past field after field, much like those seen from the top of Oakham Mount. Although he knew this day was coming, he had not anticipated feeling anything other than relief. He would soon be back in London, the greatest city in the world, and reunited with his beloved sister in the comforts of his own town house. Certainly, this was cause for contentment, was it not?

  “How gratifying to be on our way home,” Caroline said in lively tones. “In two short hours, we shall be back at Grosvenor, amongst civilised society.”

  Caroline had contrived to sit opposite him so that he would have to face her for the next two hours. Preferring to ignore her, he kept his focus on the passing scenery. Although the farms looked similar to the hundreds he had seen on his trips throughout England, they were far more interesting than anything Caroline had to say. Unfortunately, within the confines of the carriage, he could not block her from his hearing.

  As expected, she spoke tirelessly about numerous topics: the refined society of London, the gaieties of the holiday season, the fellowship of dear friends, and the joy of family. While each observation was perfectly correct, they were also self-serving. She cared nothing for her family; if she did, she would not have foiled her brother’s plans to return to Netherfield without his knowledge. Her own comfort was her only concern—that and being in the limelight in London drawing rooms.

  “After such a long absence from home, you must be glad to finally return,” Caroline said with an eager smile. Hoping to give her as little encouragement as possible, Darcy gave a slight nod of his head in agreement. “You and Miss Darcy must come to supper this week.”

  There it was: her favourite method of gaining his attention—mentioning his sister. “Certainly, if Georgiana is not already engaged,” he said, already planning to send his regrets. If he never saw Caroline again or heard her chattering, he would be perfectly satisfied.

  “Louisa and I are so fond of her…and so proud of her many accomplishments.”

  “Confound you, Caroline,” Hurst said, his voice harsh. “Must you go on like a dashed prattle-box?”

  “Henry, please,” Louisa said, reaching over to squeeze Caroline’s hand.

  “Forgive me, my dear, but your sister’s ceaseless jibber-jabber makes my head ache,” Hurst said.

  Red faced, her eyes burning with fury, Caroline glared at Hurst but remained silent.

  Thankful for the reprieve, Darcy diverted back to the window. Seeing his own reflection in the glass gave him pause. A man of eight and twenty years ought not look haggard, as though his best years were behind him. He had his whole life ahead of him; the possibilities were endless. Pemberley, marriage, children.

  However, the thought of returning to the London marriage mart brought him no joy. The assemblies abounded with fortune hunters and their conniving mothers—some even worse than Caroline Bingley and Mrs Bennet.

  He grimaced, recalling Mrs Bennet’s recent vulgar performance. If only someone had checked her mindless chatter at supper Tuesday night, he might not have been so willing to leave Netherfield.

  But, Elizabeth…

  What was it about her that haunted his every waking and sleeping moment? Despite his determination to relegate her to the past, Darcy could think of nothing else. She was not classically beautiful like Jane, nor did she conduct herself as modestly. She voiced her opinions far too frequently, and her impertinence did her no credit. However, her wit and intelligence shone through, and her uncommon generosity appealed to him. Unlike other ladies of his acquaintance, she was humble and never put herself forward.

  Stop, Darcy, your inexperienced youth is long past. He was no green boy who fell in love with every pretty girl he encountered. The time had come to put an end to this compulsion and apply himself to the endeavour of taking a proper wife—a woman of respectable birth with a reputable family and a splendid fortune. Darcy knew what was expected of him, and he had every intention of honouring his family’s expectations. His uncle had frequently lectured him on this subject, and under no circumstances would he defy the Earl of Matlock. No, he would carry on the family tradition and take a wife worthy of the Darcy name.

  As soon as Hurst fell asleep, Caroline whispered her complaints
. “Why must Henry object to pleasant conversation? How could anyone be silent during an entire trip to town? Imagine sitting together in close company for two hours and not saying a word. I daresay, you would not enjoy riding with unsociable companions, would you, Mr Darcy?”

  Under certain circumstances, most definitely. “He must be out of sorts,” he said, not wishing to add more fuel to the fire.

  Louisa nodded her agreement. “Exactly so. Henry will be fine when we get to Grosvenor.”

  The rest of the trip passed without further outbursts or self-serving flattery. After a fatiguing two-hour journey, Darcy was finally set down in front of his town house, and he bid adieu to his travel companions. His butler stood ready to receive him at the front door. Greeting Mr Trent, Darcy relinquished his hat, gloves, and overcoat to him and advised him that his valet and trunks would arrive shortly.

  Mr Trent assured him that he would see to everything. “Miss Darcy is expecting you.”

  He had sent an express to Georgiana yesterday, advising her of his impending return. A lively melody drew him to the music room where he found his sister attired in her favourite pink gown. Her companion, Mrs Annesley, sat beside her, then acknowledged him and gestured to her charge to stop playing. As soon as Georgiana noticed him, she joyfully ran into his arms. “Fitzwilliam, how glad I am to see you!”

  He embraced her tightly and kissed the top of her head. “How are you, my sweet?”

  She assured him she was never better and guided him to the pianoforte to listen to her latest piece. Mrs Annesley smiled proudly, nodding her head to the tempo. He had to admit, Georgiana had flourished under her companion’s tutelage. She showed no lingering effects of her disappointment last summer; her cheeks bloomed like roses and her eyes were bright.

  Yes, it was good to be home.

  ***

  As soon as Elizabeth and her sisters returned to Longbourn, Mr Hill presented Jane with a letter that had been delivered earlier by a Netherfield servant. Mrs Bennet called them into the sitting parlour for tea, and Elizabeth followed her sisters, wondering what news the letter might hold. Only Caroline or Louisa would have written to Jane. Had something prevented their return to town? Had Mr Darcy changed his mind and decided to stay?