Rebellion at Longbourn

by Victoria Kincaid

  “Please do,” Mr. Darcy said. “I may only linger another day or two in Hertfordshire, but I will return at a later date and will hope for a response then.”

  Glancing at the angle of the sun, she realized it was later than she expected. “I should return to Longbourn,” she said. “They will wonder where I have been.” She would not mention that she was needed to cook dinner.

  “Yes, of course.” He offered his arm to her, and they immediately set a brisk pace toward the town. The conversation was light and innocuous. As they reached Market Street, something he said reminded her that he would remain in Meryton for a couple more days.

  Elizabeth wondered at the unreasonable flare of happiness these words granted her, but surely it was because she relished the novelty of new company after a long winter of seeing the same faces in the neighborhood.

  She wondered at his absence from Pemberley. How could he believe a prolonged sojourn in Meryton was worth his time? If he lingered solely for her family’s sake, then he must feel a great burden of guilt indeed. Elizabeth herself experienced sudden sympathy; nobody should be walking around under such a cloud of self-recrimination. Except Mr. Wickham.

  But Elizabeth knew very well that she could not persuade Mr. Darcy to change his mind. The man was inscrutable, and the wealthy could afford to indulge their whims. Perhaps it would be best for him if she could devise some task that he could quickly and easily perform that would discharge his sense of duty to the Bennets. But nothing occurred to her at the moment. Perhaps Jane would have some ideas.

  He accompanied her to the far edge of the town, where the street transformed into a country road that would lead back to Longbourn. “I thank you for a most pleasant walk,” he said at the very moment she should have been thanking him. To her astonishment, he took her hand and kissed it. A mere brushing of his lips over the back of her hand, and yet it raised gooseflesh along her arms.

  It has been too long since I have been around an unattached gentleman, she told herself sternly. Any man who treated me with civility would provoke such a reaction.

  “I know it is not my place to say this,” he murmured, “but I think it would be a shame if you never wed.”

  Not knowing what to make of this statement, Elizabeth mumbled goodbye and hurried down the road. He was the most confusing man who had ever lived! Why must he always do what she did not expect?

  Chapter Seven

  The following morning Darcy rode to Longbourn. He had passed the night arguing with himself about the advisability of seeing Elizabeth again so soon. I should not. I know I should not. I do not want to give rise to false hopes.

  Of course, she had declared she did not intend to marry. How startling. Could she possibly mean it?

  The more Darcy considered the assertion, the more it troubled him. He had assumed she hoped for, but did not expect, a proposal from him. But if you had even the slimmest hope of marrying a man, you were hardly likely to declare intentional spinsterhood to him.

  For two years he had been pining for her, failing to shake off persistent longings. And during that time she had not been thinking of him? It was a lowering thought.

  Unless… His breath caught. Unless she sensed his interest in her and sought to tell him gently that she did not share his sentiments. Yet surely she would not reject him out of hand, not when he could offer so much benefit to her family.

  Perhaps she did not mean anything by it. Perhaps it was merely a passing fancy. Her dowry was indeed small, but she was beautiful and vibrant; she would make some man an admirable wife. And surely she did not want to remain at Longbourn for all of her days.

  But would Elizabeth Bennet say such a thing on a whim?

  No, it must simply be that she believed Darcy beyond her touch.

  Still, the idea of her growing old in Collins’s household or as a governess to someone else’s children struck a note of despair in his heart. It was foolish. Imagining her perpetual loneliness threatened to tear him in two.

  I have no right to such sentiments, he told himself sternly. If I have no intention of wedding her, I should not care if anyone else does so.

  As he reined in his horse on the gravel drive in front of Longbourn Manor, he noticed Elizabeth standing near one corner of the house, deep in conversation with a woman he did not recognize. Her manner of dress suggested she was the wife of one of Longbourn’s tenant farmers, although it was a bit odd to see her visiting the manor house.

  “Do not forget to feed yourself as well as the babe,” Elizabeth admonished the woman with a smile. “I put some good cheese and apples in the basket, along with a loaf of bread.”

  The other woman smiled. “Is it Hill’s barley bread?”

  Elizabeth hesitated for a fraction of a second. “No, it is a wheat loaf.”

  The farmer’s wife shrugged. “All her breads are good.”

  Elizabeth rubbed the back of her neck. “I do not want to mislead you, Mrs. Larson. You will be subject to one of my efforts at baking.”

  “Oh!” The woman’s eyes widened. “Well, I am sure it will be very good.”

  “If not, there is quince jam with which you may smother the taste.” Mrs. Larson laughed. “And there is something for Mr. Larson at the bottom of the basket as well,” Elizabeth said.

  Mrs. Larson gave Elizabeth a meaningful look, and Darcy wondered what delicacy her husband would be partaking in. The woman bade Elizabeth farewell and hurried past Darcy without giving him a glance, continuing down the road.

  Elizabeth greeted Darcy. “Mrs. Larson recently had a baby, and I want to make sure the family is well provided for.”

  Darcy frowned. “Should not these duties fall to Mrs. Collins?”

  Elizabeth gestured for him to accompany her into the house. “She is busy with little Robert, and I am more familiar with the tenants. It is no hardship.”

  Is there anybody at Longbourn who Elizabeth does not take care of?

  Darcy accompanied Elizabeth into the drawing room. Unfortunately, this visit did not have the good fortune to be graced with Mr. Collins’s absence. He hurried into the drawing room less than a minute after Darcy’s arrival. The other inhabitants of Longbourn filed into the room until nearly every seat was occupied. As Mrs. Collins served the tea, Kitty and Mrs. Bennet launched into an animated discussion about a ball that was to be held at Pelham Manor in a week’s time.

  “It is sure to be very elegant and very grand!” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed. “There is no house in the neighborhood with a ballroom to equal Pelham’s—except perhaps Netherfield…” She gave Darcy a speculative look, but he said nothing about whether Bingley planned to return.

  “You must come to this ball, Lizzy,” Kitty entreated her sister. “You haven’t been to a ball in ages, and everything is more fun when you’re there.”

  Charlotte nodded. “You have been working very hard. You should take some time to entertain yourself.”

  Elizabeth colored a little and stared down at her hands. “We shall see.”

  Collins had engaged Darcy in a conversation about Canada, but he could not help overhearing the sisters’ conversation. Or, more accurately, he could help overhearing, but he did not want to.

  “You can wear the white silk gown this time,” Kitty said in a low voice. “Jane has worn it to the last three dances.” Darcy realized they were discussing the dress he had seen Jane wear at the assembly dance. No wonder Elizabeth had not attended; they were sharing a single ball gown! He wanted to stand and berate Collins for not supplying his cousins with a greater allowance.

  “Kitty, we shall discuss it at another time,” Jane admonished in a low voice.

  Kitty ignored her. “There is no reason Lizzy cannot attend the ball.” Her voice was loud enough to interrupt Collins’s conversation.

  Her cousin cleared his throat ostentatiously. “Kitty, if you are attending the ball, then Elizabeth will be needed to watch little Robert.”

  “I can tend him,” Mary volunteered. “I do not particularly care f
or balls.”

  Collins’s eyes darted to Darcy. “I would prefer that Elizabeth watch him. She has more experience.” Did he believe Darcy would attend the ball?

  “It is fine, Mary. I have no intention of attending the ball,” Elizabeth said with every appearance of equanimity.

  However, Darcy noted that she did not, like Mary, declare a lack of interest in the event. Elizabeth would doubtless attend if she could; the lack of a suitable gown prevented her. A plan began to form in the back of his head.

  “Mr. Darcy,” Collins asked loudly, “how much longer will your business keep you in Hertfordshire?”

  “I return to London in the morning,” Darcy replied, careful not to glance in Elizabeth’s direction.

  “What a shame!” Mrs. Bennet declared with copious hand fluttering. “You will miss the ball!” Collins, on the other hand, appeared quite pleased. If he believed Darcy would immediately ride to Rosings for Anne’s hand, he would be sorely disappointed.

  He was inordinately pleased that Elizabeth’s gaze rested upon him. “When will you be returning to Meryton?” she asked in a soft voice.

  “My business is not concluded,” he responded, giving her a small, conspiratorial smile. “So I will need to return soon.” Hopefully, by then she would have conceived of a way he might help her family.

  The answering smile that shyly curved Elizabeth’s lips fascinated him more than a broad grin would have. How did she make such a small gesture so enchanting?

  Collins cleared his throat noisily, breaking the mood. “I would hope, sir, that you will visit Rosings Park first. Your duty—”

  The insolence of the man, dictating to me about my duty! “I am well aware of my responsibilities,” Darcy interrupted in a frosty voice.

  “Forgive me,” the man gave an ingratiating smile. “Occasionally I forget that I am no longer a spiritual advisor.”

  Darcy could not imagine the man giving anyone useful spiritual advice. His devotion to Lady Catherine far outweighed his devotion to a more divine being. He glowered at Collins until the other man’s face was a deep red and then said, “You are forgiven.” Collins’s mouth dropped open in shock while Darcy turned to Mrs. Bennet and solicited her opinion on the day’s weather.

  ***

  “Georgiana?” Darcy knocked gently on his sister’s door, torn between demanding she open it and not distressing her further. She had been delighted when he returned from Hertfordshire three days ago and had eagerly regaled him with all the latest gossip which they had missed during their time abroad.

  Her spirits had been somewhat muted at breakfast, but she claimed only to experience a little fatigue. She had then joined two friends from school for a morning shopping expedition that was expected to take most of the day. Anticipating that he would have uninterrupted hours, Darcy had settled into his study to review his correspondence.

  He had only been toiling away at the task for two hours when he heard a commotion in the front hallway. He arrived just as Georgiana disappeared up the front stairs and into her bedchamber. The footman who had accompanied her had been able to offer no explanation, except that she and her friends had visited a coffee shop after the mantua makers. Georgiana had emerged alone, tight-lipped and desperate to return to Darcy House at once. He did not know what had occurred to agitate her.

  Elizabeth cared so tenderly for her sisters and everyone at Longbourn; if only she could talk to his sister. It was a silly flight of fancy, for the two women were unlikely to ever meet. But he could remember how she cared for Jane when her sister was sick at Netherfield, how she watched over her sisters, and how she provided food for the tenants. Darcy always strove to treat his sister with patience and understanding, and yet sometimes he was completely at a loss—not understanding her or knowing what to do.

  If Elizabeth were here, he just knew she would be the right person for Georgiana to speak with.

  He ran both hands through his hair, disheveling it. Elizabeth was not here, and he needed to cope with the situation himself.

  Darcy knocked a little more forcefully. “Georgie? Dearest? Will you please tell me what has distressed you?” He turned the doorknob again, but it was still locked. Should he leave and return, hoping she would be of a mind to talk later? Or should he insist on seeing her now to ensure her well-being?

  Damnation! Darcy slumped against the wall as if he could no longer hold himself upright. During their travels, Georgiana had seemed confident and in high spirits. Darcy had been sure she was finally prepared to come out and celebrate her London Season.

  But they had only returned a little over a week ago, and her old anxieties and doubts already seemed to be creeping back. She had said she did not want another companion, but perhaps Darcy should engage one anyway…

  Suddenly, the lock clicked, and the door swung open. Darcy quickly straightened and slipped into the room while he could. Georgiana, tear-stained and disheveled, stood in the shadows behind the door, clinging to the handle. “Dearest?” he asked. She had removed the pins from her hair so that it tumbled in unruly golden waves around her shoulders.

  She took two steps and was in his arms, clinging to him as he enfolded her in a fierce embrace. Although she was no longer crying, her entire body trembled. After a long moment, she slid from his arms and stumbled to the fainting sofa, collapsing onto it in a pile of light blue muslin. After closing the door, Darcy followed her, taking up a chair beside the sofa.

  “I pray you, tell me what is distressing you.” He winced at the pleading tone in his voice. “Did you have a quarrel with Marianne or Emma?” Silently Darcy prayed this was not the case; he had no confidence in his ability to mediate friendship disputes among young women.

  Her lips twisted in a bitter smile. “If only it were that simple. No, my friends are not the source of my anguish—or not the primary source.”

  The unhappiness twisting her face made his heart ache. Leaning forward, he took one of her hands. “Will you tell me?”

  She sighed, releasing his hand as she curled up on the sofa. “After we visited the mantua maker, Marianne suggested we visit the coffee shop for coffee and sweets. She and Emma were talking about the Season and their coming out balls. They were so excited about it, talking about the gowns they would wear and the men they would dance with.” She gave a self-deprecating laugh. “It sounds exhausting.”

  “You know you need not attend every event, my dear,” Darcy said. “Only the ones you feel comfortable accepting.”

  Georgiana bit her lip and nodded. “I know, but… They were so excited about the prospect, and I could only feel…dread. It built and built until I believed I would…explode from the pressure! So I hurried out of the shop and asked Briggs to hail a hansom for us.”

  Darcy’s heart twisted in his chest. “No doubt it will be frightening at first. Anything new always is. But soon you will become more comfortable with the social whirl and—”

  She sat up suddenly, swinging her feet over the edge of the sofa. “But I am not like them! I am not like the other girls! Not after what happened with Mr. Wickham.”

  For the thousandth time, Darcy cursed Wickham’s name. At the moment he wanted to wrap his fingers around the man’s neck. The damage he had done to Georgiana’s self-confidence was incalculable.

  “Nobody knows what passed between you and Wickham. You did not conceive a child, fortunately. You were right not to elope with him and to tell me.” Darcy thanked God for the hundredth time that when Wickham had taken advantage of Georgiana’s ignorance, it had not resulted in a baby. His seduction of Georgiana had left enough scars.

  “What if somebody guesses? What if I do or say something and—”

  “Dearest,” he interrupted, “it is not written on your face. Nobody will guess.” He moved from his chair to sit beside her on the sofa. He stroked her hair like she was a little girl again as she leaned her head against his shoulder.

  “But what if no man will want to marry me after he learns the truth?”

&n
bsp; Darcy’s face hardened. “If something so insignificant matters to any man, then he is not worthy of being your husband. You are not ruined, dearest. The right man will love you for who you are and will understand you made a mistake.”

  She hung her head. “The world is not very forgiving of women who make mistakes.”

  That is true, Darcy thought ruefully. Wherever Lydia Bennet was, she was suffering for her momentary foolishness with Wickham—and the rest of her family along with her. Darcy had managed to conceal Georgiana’s indiscretion, but it could have implications for her future. He should not tell her otherwise when it might not be true.

  But then how could he comfort his sister? He was so out of his depth that he scarcely knew which way was up. He had always understood such things from the man’s perspective, and the world was much more forgiving of men’s mistakes—as well as their deliberate acts. “I wish you had someone you might talk to. Perhaps when we hire a new companion….”

  His sister shook her head. “No more companions.”

  Georgiana’s last companion, Mrs. Annesley, had been kind and very good at guarding her charge’s virtue. However, he did not imagine that his sister had found the woman—as ancient as she was—to be a great confidante.

  She might talk to Aunt Edith, the Countess of Matlock, but Georgiana found the woman intimidating. And if she could not confide in Marianne and Emma, Darcy doubted she had other friends who might serve the function.

  Apparently, the voyage to Canada had only put a bandage on the wound in Georgiana’s soul; it had not healed. Traveling with two men, she could hardly have felt comfortable unburdening herself about what was ultimately a very feminine set of concerns. What she needed was another woman, but one who was understanding and trustworthy.