His lips quirked in a smile. “I daresay it is the natural result when you take on the labor usually performed by a servant.”
Did he intend those words as a compliment?
His hand rose to touch one of the curls framing Elizabeth’s face. “You are giving me much to consider…a new way to view the world.” He shook his head. “How is it that every conversation with you is a revelation?”
Elizabeth inhaled sharply. More words that sounded like a reluctant compliment. And what did he mean by touching her hand and hair? That was certainly beyond the bounds of strict propriety.
Even now he was leaning toward her as he had before, his face mere inches from hers. Would he kiss her? She shivered—with panic or desire? She did not know. Hopefully, he would believe she had a chill.
Was he planning to declare himself? Surely not! Not Mr. Darcy, who could marry nearly any woman in England. However, if he did not intend marriage, he had no business kissing her.
His lips were tantalizingly close. She had never been kissed by such a man or felt someone’s hands touch her shoulders, her neck, her hair. But she could not allow it.
Perhaps he did not consider how his words sounded to a woman with no prospects—how they might raise hopes she should never entertain. Suddenly, she was angry at him—angry that he was so obtuse that he might allow her to think there might be anything between them.
I will not give in. I will not surrender to his charms. Not when I can have no hopes of him. Elizabeth bit down on her lower lip so savagely she tasted blood. The spasm of pain cleared away the haze of longing and focused her attention.
He must not notice her irritation. He may have been thoughtless, but the harm he had inflicted was unintentional. Furthermore, she valued his friendship and wanted to retain it.
She forced herself to laugh, an awkward sound to her own ears. “Mr. Darcy! You do know how to compliment a girl! Everyone knows we love to be praised for our red lips, porcelain skin, and revelatory conversation.”
He gave her a bemused smile, confused by her shift in tone.
I am probably being silly. He does not want a country miss whose station in life has slid precipitously lower in the past two years. She was amazed he had even been willing to acknowledge their acquaintance in public.
Unless—?
She had considered before if he might be cultivating her for the purpose of making her his mistress. A gift of a lavish ball gown would be a perfect demonstration of the life he could give a mistress.
But he could not possibly believe she would consider such an arrangement. Of course, Mr. Darcy’s money would protect her sisters and mother for the rest of their lives…
No.
I cannot sell myself, not for marriage or protection. It is dangerous to even be thinking these things about Mr. Darcy—whether or not he is thinking them about me. I should not be standing on a terrace with him. I am a fool, allowing myself to be seduced by moonlight and spring air.
She pushed away from the stone wall—and out of Mr. Darcy’s reach. “The air has grown chillier. Perhaps we should return inside.”
“Of course.” Mr. Darcy offered her his arm, but she barely touched her fingertips to his elbow. “Would you join me for another dance?” he asked as they entered the ballroom.
“I thank you, no.” Mr. Darcy appeared a little nonplussed, and Elizabeth hurried to craft an excuse. “I should seek out your sister. Kitty and Maria can be a little…boisterous, and I hope Miss Darcy is not made uncomfortable. I will find them in the orangery.”
She was speaking too rapidly; he regarded her with a puzzled expression.
“And I should not keep you from other dance partners. There are many young ladies here tonight,” she added hastily.
He hesitated for a moment; a strained expression passed over his face. “Yes, there are.” After giving her a painfully correct bow, he pivoted and hurried away.
Elizabeth was compelled to watch, noting that he cut a fine figure as he stalked through the throng of revelers. Probably the most handsome man of her acquaintance. Who might have been about to kiss her a moment ago. And she had just encouraged him to dance with other women.
But it is for the best, she assured herself. It is best for me and for him. He was no longer visible, but she continued to stare in that direction. It is best if I cease thinking about him. Resolutely, she hurried in the opposite direction.
Chapter Ten
Throughout the sleepless night that followed, Darcy castigated himself soundly for his awkwardness on the terrace. Elizabeth had declared no intention to marry, and he had no reason to disbelieve her—no reason to think she would welcome a kiss from him.
But her hair had nearly glowed in the moonlight, and her lips were so perfectly formed…so enticing. Staring at them, Darcy could only imagine how they tasted. He had come so close to seizing her and kissing her for all she was worth. But it would have been a violation—a violation of her trust and most likely an end to their friendship.
He had also denigrated the care she showed to her family at Longbourn. He could only perceive it as degradation because he would have experienced such service that way. Well done, Darcy.
Of course, he did not view what he did for Pemberley as work, but Elizabeth was correct that it bore many of the hallmarks of work. If only he had grasped that point earlier in the conversation, then he might not have given offense. No wonder she had been so eager to leave—after encouraging him to seek out other partners.
In a daze after their encounter, Darcy had not sought out other women, but he had noticed Collins in his path too late to avoid him. As a result, he suffered through a quarter hour of excessive praise for Aunt Catherine; however, he did secure an invitation to dine at Longbourn the following evening.
He was doubly pleased since torrential rain meant that Elizabeth would not come to collect Georgiana for the promised walk. At least dinner would give the two women an opportunity to become better acquainted. He would also need to alert Elizabeth to what troubled Georgiana and beg her help. After his behavior the previous night, he knew he did not deserve it, but he also knew she was too kind to refuse.
So he had endured a long, dull day at Netherfield, where he did little save for recall in vivid detail every wrong word to Elizabeth at the ball. By dinnertime, he was nearly as eager to escape his own thoughts as he was to visit Longbourn.
They had been greeted with obsequious amounts of hospitality by Collins and quiet grace from his wife. Elizabeth had smiled at Darcy, which he had taken as a promising sign that he might be forgiven.
Georgiana was now seated near Kitty and Mary at the far end of the table, where the sounds of animated conversation suggested the three young women were enjoying themselves. With only good things to report from her adventures in the orangery with Kitty and her friend, Georgiana had been quite pleased to see the Bennets again. Georgiana had never formed closed friendships with girls her age, and Darcy now wondered if perhaps he had been surrounding her with the wrong sort of companions.
Finding himself seated near Collins, Darcy tried to find neutral topics of conversation that did not devolve into lavish praise for his aunt. Since they were both landowners, he addressed that subject. “Your fields look well,” he complimented the master of Longbourn. “Obviously, your crops are thriving. I hope you are anticipating a good harvest.”
Collins beamed. “Just so. Just so.”
“Have any of your fields been attacked by the blight that affects wheat?”
Collins blinked several times. “Not that I have heard,” he said vaguely, attacking his meat with renewed vigor.
Darcy quickly abandoned plans for a deeper conversation about agricultural techniques and sought a more innocuous subject. “I noticed that your tenants are using a seed drill.”
Across from Darcy, Elizabeth’s spoon fell onto her plate with a clang.
He returned his attention to Collins. “We purchased one at Pemberley three years ago with very good results. Ho
w long have you had your drill?”
Collins drew himself up. “I am afraid you are mistaken, sir. Longbourn does not possess a seed drill. It is an unnecessary extravagance.” With a quick glance at Darcy, he hastily added, “At least at an estate of this size.”
“I thought I spied a seed drill outside the barn as we rode into Longbourn.”
A fit of coughing seized Elizabeth, who had grown quite red in the face. Jane regarded her with alarm. Darcy glanced from one woman to the other. What was the problem? As a rule, farming equipment was not usually a controversial subject of conversation.
Collins waved his fork about. “No, no. We have nothing of that kind. Seed drills just encourage laziness on the part of the tenants. They can just as easily fling the seeds about on their own.” He demonstrated with an expansive flinging gesture.
Darcy bit his lip against a sharp retort. Agricultural researchers had determined that seed drills could increase crop yields as much as twenty-five percent.
While Collins’s ignorance did not surprise Darcy, he was perplexed why the man did not know he possessed the seed drill that Darcy had most definitely noticed earlier in the day. But Elizabeth was watching him anxiously, and arguing did not appear to be in anyone’s interests.
“Ah.” Darcy nodded. “Perhaps I was mistaken. It must have been something else that resembled a seed drill.” Elizabeth gulped some wine and settled back into her chair. Such odd behavior!
“Indeed, indeed,” Collins agreed amiably.
“Did you make many alterations to the estate when you took possession?” Darcy inquired. Some of the fields were being cultivated with turnips or clover, a sure sign that Longbourn now practiced four-crop rotation—which he did not recall noticing when Bennet was alive.
Elizabeth had not taken up her fork again but watched their conversation warily.
Collins patted his stomach with a self-satisfied air. “There has been little need for change, except in the management of the tenants. Bennet was a good deal too lax with them, just as he was too lax in raising his daughters.” He gestured toward his cousins. “I raised the rents at once, and that has spurred greater industry.”
Darcy said nothing, but Collins did not require any encouragement.
“Lady Catherine condescended to visit Longbourn when I first took possession and bestowed a great deal of most valuable advice upon me. She admonished that above all I should not allow the tenants to take advantage of me.”
Darcy rubbed his forehead, where he sensed a headache forming. “My aunt has not always enjoyed the best relations with her own tenants. Perhaps she should not be your sole source of counsel.”
Collins waved this away. “Naturally, you do things differently at Pemberley, in keeping with your father’s traditions. But I always follow Lady Catherine’s admonitions to the letter.” He absently patted his wife’s hand and repeated, “To the letter.”
Mrs. Collins colored and soon withdrew her hand so she could cut her meat. Darcy was heartened to see that she had not completely forsaken the capacity to recognize sheer stupidity.
Leaning forward in his chair, Collins spoke loudly to catch Georgiana’s attention. “I pray you, tell me, Miss Darcy, what are the latest amusements in London? My darling wife and I hope to be in town soon.”
A startled Georgiana broke off her conversation with the other girls. “I cannot say. We were in London for such a short time.”
“But surely other young ladies have spoken of their amusements,” Collins said with a creepy smile. “Be so good as to tell me what they would recommend.”
Georgiana stammered a reply. “I really do not know—”
Darcy jumped in. “I hear there is a new comedy at the Drury Lane Theatre, The Parson’s Mousetrap.”
“Indeed?” Collins settled back with his hands over a midsection that had expanded in recent years. “What do you hear about it?”
Darcy strained to recall what he had read about the play in the paper, but he was able to keep the discussion on the subject of London for the remainder of the meal. Nothing else occurred that disturbed Elizabeth and Jane’s equanimity. Nonetheless, Darcy was beginning to notice a pattern of odd incidents. Was there something afoot at Longbourn?
***
Mr. Darcy’s behavior puzzled Elizabeth of late. He had nearly kissed her on the terrace and yet was disinclined to speak with her at dinner. He had sought her out as a dance partner but had redirected all her conversational gambits toward his sister. Nor could she fathom why he had brought the girl to Hertfordshire. Elizabeth’s disgraced family would not be the sort he wanted his sister to acquaint herself with.
However, after the men had rejoined the ladies following dinner, Mr. Darcy had obtained a seat near Elizabeth’s in a quiet corner of the room. At a moment when the general discussion was quite boisterous, he had confided in Elizabeth that his sister had seemed troubled of late. Furthermore, he had expressed his hope that Elizabeth might speak with Miss Darcy and nearly begged her to provide what assistance she could.
Elizabeth would not have been inclined to reject such a heartfelt plea, but Mr. Darcy’s obvious distress over his sister was quite moving and she had readily agreed. Accordingly, she had walked to Netherfield the next day, puzzling over Mr. Darcy’s behavior the whole time.
However, upon arriving at the house, she did not encounter Mr. Darcy at all. His sister had shyly invited Elizabeth to join her for a walk in the manor’s garden.
Speaking of the flowers and weather, they strolled about the rather overgrown garden at Netherfield, which had clearly been neglected during Mr. Bingley’s absence. Abruptly, Miss Darcy asked if they might sit on one of the stone benches.
Elizabeth said nothing, merely waiting while Miss Darcy’s hands twisted miserably in her lap and she stared resolutely at the tips of her slippers. Finally, she said, “I am sorry my brother has troubled you, Miss Bennet. I do not believe you can help me.”
“Why do you not let me be the judge of that?” Elizabeth responded. “And please call me Elizabeth.”
This won her a shy smile. “If you will call me Georgiana.”
Elizabeth nodded, but nothing more was forthcoming from the younger woman. Finally, Elizabeth said, “Your brother told me little, save that he believed you were troubled by something concerning your coming out and Mr. Wickham.”
Georgiana flinched at the man’s name and nodded.
“Can you tell me more?”
The other woman remained silent for so long that Elizabeth wondered if she would speak at all. But suddenly words burst out of her. “I do not believe I wish to marry!” She immediately slapped a hand over her mouth as if her words were obscene.
Elizabeth considered a minute before responding and took care to keep her tone soft and reasonable. “That is not such an outrageous idea. My sister Mary has said she does not intend to marry, and I—” Elizabeth stopped before she blithely included herself in the tally. Her marital prospects were still grim, and she had no intention of seeking a husband.
But the previous night she had admitted to herself that she had feelings for Mr. Darcy. Furthermore, after nearly kissing him on the terrace, she could hardly disavow any inclination toward romance. Naturally, any romantic ideas about Mr. Darcy were foolish and not to be entertained. But she had discovered a new and previously unknown aspect of her character: while Mary and Georgiana would shun marriage under any circumstances, the same might not be true for Elizabeth.
But this was mere fancy. She was in no position to contemplate marriage, and Mr. Darcy would not consider it. Pushing such idle thoughts aside, Elizabeth focused her attention on the other woman.
“But every woman wishes to marry!” Georgiana exclaimed. “I feel that not wanting it…there must be something terribly wrong with me. I must be monstrous!”
“My understanding is that you do not need to marry. Is that correct?” Elizabeth asked gently.
Georgiana twisted her fingers in the skirt of her dress. “I need not wed
for money. I will inherit my fortune at age twenty, whether I am married or not.”
“You are in a position many women would envy,” Elizabeth said, deliberately avoiding bitter thoughts.
“I suppose. But marriage is what every woman dreams of. What sort of woman does not wish to marry?”
Elizabeth shrugged. “Perhaps a very wise one?”
Georgiana’s eyes widened in shock, and then she giggled.
“Do you know why you feel this way?” Elizabeth asked.
Georgiana stared at the tangled vines on the other side of the pathway. “My brother told you what happened with Mr. Wickham?” Elizabeth nodded. “He…seduced me.” Elizabeth said nothing, hoping her face did not betray her shock. From Mr. Darcy’s words, she had believed he had merely foiled an elopement. She did not realize that Georgiana’s virtue had been lost.
“I did not like…the act. I did not like the way it made me feel. It was…unpleasant.”
“I would imagine those were not ideal circumstances,” Elizabeth said, searching for a way to discuss such an intimate subject. “With a husband who loved you, it might be different.”
“Perhaps.” Georgiana pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed at the tears collecting in the corners of her eyes. “But how would I know if he truly cared about me? I thought Mr. Wickham loved me, but he only wanted my money. If we had married, he would have controlled me and my money. And I would have been powerless!” A tear slipped down the young woman’s cheek, but she did not give way to sobs.
Elizabeth’s first impulse was to assure Georgiana that Mr. Wickham was not a typical man and that she would surely find someone to love her, but she checked herself. Elizabeth herself had seen many marriages that were less than ideal; no doubt Georgiana had as well. Platitudes would not set her mind at ease.
Nor was Georgiana wrong that she would enter the marriage mart as a highly desirable “prize.” Few women had a dowry the size of Darcy’s sister. Her fears were quite justified.
“I think,” Elizabeth said slowly, “marriage can be frightening for a woman. Men are stronger, and they have the law on their side. They can end up controlling your body and your fortune. You must find someone you trust very deeply to feel safe in marrying him. In some ways trust is more important than love.”
Rebellion at Longbourn Page 14