“Robert needs to see you more frequently,” Charlotte said. “You are his father.” Elizabeth had the sense they were continuing a conversation from before.
Collins gulped more wine and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “Need we see him at every meal? Luncheon and dinner? Surely we might reduce the number of meals.” His tone had grown unpleasantly whiny.
Charlotte glanced over at Kitty, whose eyes were fixed on her plate. “Very well. I will talk to Kitty. Perhaps she might mind him at luncheon sometimes.”
Collins, smiled broadly as if he had won a great victory while Charlotte hugged her son against her chest with a pinched expression. Elizabeth did not blame Charlotte for finding Robert’s company more congenial than her husband’s.
Another uncomfortable silence followed until Jane spoke in a brisk tone of voice. “I do hope this rain will stop by tomorrow.”
Jane’s attempt to ease the tensions could not have been more obvious if she had held up a sign announcing her purpose. But Elizabeth could not stomach the idea of further appeasing her cousin. Collins’s treatment of his wife had compounded her earlier anger about the Wileys. She said the first words that came into her mind—which were not the most diplomatic. “The Thompsons’ roof leaks; they actually have mushrooms growing inside their home!”
Collins sighed and rolled his eyes. This was not the first time Elizabeth had mentioned how the tenants’ cottages needed repairs.
“Why, that is terrible!” her mother exclaimed. “And they have two young ones as well!”
In for a penny, in for a pound. Elizabeth continued, hoping against hope that this time her cousin could be shamed into attending to the tenants’ needs. “And one of the walls in the Smiths’ cottage is crumbling. The Greenes’ chimney is backed up, leaking smoke into the house. Mrs. Greeves says her two youngest are constantly unwell because of the damp in their cottage.”
Collins sighed again, as if even discussing the tenants was a heavy burden. “Longbourn cannot support such repairs, Cousin. We must economize. If the farmers desire repairs to their cottages, they should work harder so Longbourn might show a greater profit.” He took up the newspaper that had been sitting beside his plate and unfolded it to create a barrier separating him from the rest of the table.
Elizabeth glared at the paper as if she could burn a hole in it with her eyes. Collins continued to raise the rents despite two years of lean harvests, allowing him to profit while the tenants suffered. If only he would listen to reason and modernize the farming! But Collins had never been extremely familiar with reason. In fact, Elizabeth doubted they had even been introduced.
“When your father was alive—” Always eager to tell Collins how he could never measure up to her late husband, Mrs. Bennet began her common refrain. The man’s face grew redder by the second.
Jane squeezed her mother’s hand, and miraculously, she immediately subsided. A few days earlier, the two eldest daughters had warned their mother that Collins might revoke their invitation to Longbourn if they were excessively critical. And it appeared she had taken that caution to heart.
An uneasy silence fell over the dining table, broken only by the sounds of forks scraping over plates and the clink of drinking glasses. Eventually Collins lowered the paper and regarded his wife. “There is an article herein about Astley’s Amphitheatre. We should visit it upon our next trip to London.”
Charlotte’s expression was carefully neutral. “If you would like.”
“Perhaps we might visit in May. Lady Catherine will be in residence,” he mused. “But I think perhaps we need a new carriage—something with a bit more style and comfort.”
Charlotte’s eyes widened. “Our current carriage is perfectly adequate.”
“No. No. It is hopelessly outdated. Lady Catherine says our neighbors will laugh if we do not have a barouche box.”
Robert fussed, drawing his mother’s attention. “Perhaps. We can consider it,” Charlotte said hastily as she bounced the baby.
“And you must make plans to redecorate the blue drawing room,” Collins said with the air of someone continuing a previous discussion.
“I will,” Charlotte responded without much enthusiasm. Most new mistresses were eager to update a house’s decorations and make their mark by immediately replacing wallpaper, chairs, curtains, and other furnishings, but Charlotte had not redecorated any part of the house. Elizabeth did not know if it was because she recognized the precarious nature of the estate’s finances, or if she knew how much anguish it would cause Mrs. Bennet. But all the Bennets had been exceedingly grateful for her restraint. It was too much to hope that it might last forever.
Unwilling to look at her cousin, Elizabeth stared fixedly at the bowl of gravy in front of her, fantasizing about pouring the entire mess over his head. If only he would agree to modernize the farming! Elizabeth would even volunteer to pay for the seed drill herself; she had a little money from her mother and could think of few better uses for it.
Taking out her frustration on a potato, she savagely cut it in half and stabbed a piece with her fork. But then she froze with the fork halfway to her mouth as something occurred to her. She turned the idea around in her head, poking it from different angles to see where it was flawed. It was risky, but if it succeeded…! If it succeeded it could solve all Longbourn’s problems.
Elizabeth set down her fork again, suddenly too full of hope to eat any more dinner. She managed, just barely, to keep her excitement from showing on her face. Tonight I will explain the idea to Jane, Mary, and Kitty. If her sisters could find no faults in the scheme, perhaps it had some merit. Perhaps they could save Longbourn.
Chapter Three
Darcy took another sip of coffee, wishing lead weights had not been attached to his eyelids. Every part of his body longed for sleep; really, nine o’clock was dreadfully early for anyone to be awake, let alone him. But it was a reasonable and expected hour to begin his day.
I have grown soft and indolent during my travels, he thought ruefully. Travel, of course, brought its own kind of hardships, but he had become accustomed to following his own whims and taking pleasure in a less regimented schedule. He needed to readjust to his responsibilities, which was why he had pried himself from bed at such an indecent hour.
Bingley groaned as he settled into the chair beside Darcy and took a sip of tea. “Tea in Canada simply does not compare,” he said with a smile.
Darcy nodded. “I wish we had some of the cake from that shop in Montreal.”
“Mmm. Yes.”
After disembarking from the ship at a later hour than they would have liked, they had stumbled into Darcy House past midnight. Fortunately, Darcy had written ahead, and his staff had prepared the house for their arrival.
He took another bite of egg, although he was not particularly hungry. Today would be a busy day. His steward would be arriving from Pemberley, and they would spend hours reacquainting Darcy with the business of the estate. Before that, however, he would have an even more important meeting which he anticipated with both excitement and trepidation.
“Is Georgiana still abed?” Bingley asked.
“I saw no need to wake her.”
“I wish I received the same consideration,” Bingley grumbled good-naturedly.
“No doubt your sisters will arrive any minute. I could not allow you to loll about in bed one more minute.” A messenger had been sent to the Hursts’ townhouse very early, and Darcy knew Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst would be eager to share the latest on dits. He experienced a pang of regret; Bingley would be leaving them to stay with his sisters. Darcy and Georgiana had relished his company on their travels.
Bingley sighed and pushed around the eggs on his plate. “I expect I shall receive another lecture about how irresponsible it was for me to gallivant off to North America.”
Darcy grimaced. “At least you have had more practice in saying no to them.” They had criticized Bingley’s decision in every letter. No doubt Bingley would have collapsed int
o scribbling abject apologies if Darcy had not stiffened his spine. But being on his own had been good for his friend. Bingley had grown far more decided and sure of his tastes when he was away from his sisters’ influence.
“It shall be quite trying when I relocate to Grosvenor Square,” Bingley mused.
“You are welcome to remain at Darcy House for as long as you like,” Darcy remarked. “It is no imposition.”
Bingley straightened up in his chair. “I may accept that offer.” Darcy knew his sisters would not like it, but obviously Bingley was willing to risk their wrath.
Briggs, the butler, entered the room and announced, “Miss Bingley, sir. And Mr. and Mrs. Hurst.”
Bingley sighed deeply, not like a man pleased to be reunited with his family after a year and a half. Both men stood as the three visitors entered.
The two women gave their brother perfunctory kisses on the cheek, and the men exchanged handshakes. The newcomers helped themselves to breakfast from the sideboard and settled into chairs around the table. Darcy and Bingley talked a little about the details of their trip, but the sour expression on Miss Bingley’s face and the disapproving purse of Mrs. Hurst’s lips suggested they were not particularly interested in that subject. Mr. Hurst was primarily interested in the kippers.
When the weight of disapproval had caused the conversation to wane, Bingley gamely asked, “So, what is the news, eh?”
“You would know if you had ever bothered to write,” Miss Bingley answered tartly.
“I did write.”
His sister rolled her eyes. “I declare it was not above four times! I am overwhelmed by your fraternal devotion. And, of course, the letters were short, dashed-off affairs.”
Bingley rubbed his forehead. “I am a poor correspondent. I acknowledge it, but I am here now. What have I missed?”
This was all the encouragement his sisters needed to launch into twenty minutes of gossip, primarily about people Darcy did not know or could not care about. Eighteen months of freedom from the obligations of the ton had not endeared him to the social whirl, although he supposed he should pay more attention now that Georgiana would be launched in society. Still, he found himself thinking longingly of Pemberley.
His absence had apparently not dimmed Miss Bingley’s hopes of Darcy, for she still addressed the better part of her remarks directly to him, although he had not asked her any questions.
There was only one person he would consider inquiring about, and he did not dare. Fortunately, Bingley unwittingly assisted him in this endeavor. “What is the news from the Bennet family? You did not mention them in any of your letters.” He leaned forward in his seat.
Miss Bingley blinked. “Why should I?”
“You are Jane Bennet’s friend.”
His sister fluttered her hands. “Friends, Charles? Certainly we were acquainted, but friends…” She gave Mrs. Hurst a sidelong look.
Mrs. Hurst actually giggled. “It is for the best if we do not acknowledge the connection. Thank goodness you gave up the lease on Netherfield!”
Bingley exchanged a glance with Darcy but did not correct his sister’s mistake. Darcy restrained the urge to fidget in his chair as he imagined everything that could have befallen the Bennets.
“Surely you have heard some news from Longbourn,” Bingley said.
“Indeed…” Miss Bingley drew the word out. She was taking pleasure in the suspense. Darcy’s heart beat faster, knowing that whatever she said would be bad. She would not derive such pleasure from relating news of the family’s extreme felicity. “Shortly after you departed, the father died.”
Darcy could not prevent a gasp. If he had known, he never would have left. If he had known, he would have returned. He was angry with himself for not discovering the news and with Bingley’s sisters for not relaying it. During the early part of the voyage, he had been so intent on endeavoring to forget Elizabeth that he had not sought to know about her family, and this was the result.
“Did Mr. Collins take possession of Longbourn?” Darcy attempted to keep his tone neutral and disinterested.
“Mr. Collins?” Miss Bingley asked. “Oh yes, the clergyman. I suppose so.”
Bingley’s pale face mirrored Darcy’s own distress. “How terrible for Ja—all the Bennets!” Bingley exclaimed. “Where do the sisters reside now?”
A fist clenched around Darcy’s heart. Although he knew change was inevitable, some part of him had secretly expected to find Elizabeth dwelling with her parents at Longbourn just as she had when he departed.
Mrs. Hurst rolled her eyes. “They are hardly the sort of family we would maintain a connection with. How should we know?”
Bingley frowned. “I thought at least you would condole with them, write them a note expressing your sympathy, invite them for tea when they visited town.”
“I am not aware that anyone from the family has been to town,” Mrs. Hurst replied.
Strange. Darcy remembered clearly that the Bennets had relatives in Cheapside. Although Elizabeth might have guessed at Bingley’s sisters’ insincerity, Miss Bennet seemed to believe them true friends. Surely she would have written to them if she visited town—at the very least to maintain a connection with Bingley. Was it possible she had remained sequestered in Hertfordshire all these months? It was scarcely thirty miles’ distance!
The sisters were sharing a conspiratorial smile that triggered Darcy’s suspicions. Surely anything that made these two so very gleeful could not be good for the Bennets.
He crumpled his napkin in frustration. I cannot ask them. I cannot betray too much interest. Patience, he counseled himself. I will learn everything soon.
It was possible they were lying about receiving correspondence from the Bennets. They had concealed Jane’s presence from Bingley before—with Darcy’s help. How he bitterly regretted that subterfuge now! It was quite possible that Miss Bennet had written or even visited London and the Bingley sisters had ignored her.
Darcy drained the last of the coffee from his cup, thanking providence that he was not completely reliant on Miss Bingley for news of Elizabeth Bennet. In fact, she seemed rather put out that neither man had begged her for details about the family. After a long pause, Bingley questioned her about a family acquaintance Darcy did not know.
Briggs entered the breakfast room. “Mr. Timson to see you, sir.”
Excellent timing. Darcy stood. “Very good. Show him to my study.” He spoke to his guests. “You must excuse me. A man from my solicitor on a matter of some urgency.”
“Of course, Mr. Darcy,” Miss Bingley drawled. “You must have any number of important tasks to complete after such a long absence.”
Darcy quitted the room with dispatch and ventured down the hall with long strides. Mr. Timson, a tall, thin man with a scraggly mustache, was standing by the fireplace in the study when Darcy entered. After closing the door, Darcy shook the man’s hand, introduced himself, and gestured the man to one of the wingback chairs by the hearth. “Would you like a glass of brandy?”
The man’s eyebrows rose, as well they might. It was a bit early in the day for spirits, but Darcy was fairly certain he would need something to fortify himself. “No thank you, sir.”
After pouring himself a glass, Darcy took the other chair by the fireplace. “So, you are the man Wright chose for the assignment?”
Timson inclined his head. “I have a cousin in that part of Hertfordshire, so it was a simple matter of visiting her—without arousing any suspicion.”
Wright had taken Darcy’s request for discretion seriously. “Excellent. A paid holiday.”
Timson grimaced. “You would think so, but you have not tasted my cousin’s cooking. And I believe her children are noisy enough they could hear them on the other side of the Channel.”
Darcy was in no mood for small talk. “What did you learn?” Months ago, knowing they would soon return to England, Darcy had asked his solicitor to send someone to Meryton and learn the fate of the Bennet family—although
he had not expressed an interest in any particular member of the family. Any hint of his interest in Elizabeth could be misconstrued. Fortunately, a visiting relative might learn about happenings in the neighborhood without being too conspicuous.
The man settled into the chair, fiddling nervously with the brim of his hat.
“Mr. Bennet died of a fit of apoplexy in 1813. Mr. Collins and his wife took possession of the Longbourn estate almost immediately. They allowed Mrs. Bennet and her daughters to continue to live in the family home.”
The fist around Darcy’s heart loosened slightly; at least they had a place to live. Now he could ask the question that had caused so much trepidation. He gripped the arms of the chair as if bracing for pain. “Do all the daughters still reside at Longbourn?”
“All but one.”
Darcy’s heart pumped a jagged rhythm. “Which daughter is from home?” When Darcy had departed from England, he had supposed Elizabeth might marry while he was away. It had presented itself as the best resolution to his dilemma. If she were no longer available to him, then he could forget her and seek a more suitable woman to wed.
But the longer he was abroad, the more difficult it had been to forget her. Finally, he had stopped lying to himself. He dreaded the possibility that she might marry. Now he awaited Timson’s answer with both dread and hope.
“The youngest, Lydia.”
Darcy released a breath he had not realized he was holding. Timson noticed the reaction but did not comment on it. Elizabeth is still unmarried. A heavy weight had been lifted from Darcy’s chest. He longed to view it as bad news. Her family was still unsuitable, and she would continue to tempt him. But his unruly heart would not listen.
“Miss Lydia is married?” Darcy found this surprising. She could not have been above sixteen years of age when he had known the family. It would be odd indeed for her to marry before the rest of the sisters.
Timson coughed. “I could find no evidence that she was wed.” Darcy frowned. Why else would she be from home? Surely her family had not sent her to school. Was she visiting relatives?
Rebellion at Longbourn Page 4