Rebellion at Longbourn

by Victoria Kincaid

  Mr. Jones’s eyes darted to Mrs. Wiley and then to Darcy as if he were figuring something out. Then he turned back to his patient. “How long has he been like this?”

  There was a long pause. Mrs. Wiley gave Mrs. Greeves a meaningful look, and finally that woman answered, “Eight hours.”

  This was further confirmation of Darcy’s suspicions. He would wager his horse that Mrs. Wiley was the boy’s mother, not Mrs. Greeves. Everyone in the cottage knew the truth except for Darcy.

  Why had they undertaken this elaborate charade? Certainly there was no need to deceive Darcy about the boy’s parentage; he knew nothing of Longbourn’s tenants. But they must fear he would reveal something to someone. As the apothecary examined the boy, Darcy’s eyes roamed about the room, but nothing suggested an explanation about why they would perpetrate a deception.

  The boy started moaning in pain, increasing Mrs. Wiley’s agitation. “What can you do for him, Mr. Jones?” she asked in a strangled tone.

  Mrs. Greeves was regarding Darcy skeptically, and two of the children were openly staring. Regardless of the reason for the deception, the boy was obviously ill. My presence is not helping anyone. I can only hinder his treatment at this point.

  “Perhaps I will wait outside,” he said in the general direction of the others. “I pray you, call out if I might be of any assistance.” Mrs. Wiley appeared not to hear, but the other woman waved vaguely. He nodded to the apothecary and gave Elizabeth a significant look before ducking through the cottage’s doorway.

  ***

  Elizabeth tied the ribbons on her bonnet, ignoring the mixture of relief and anxiety churning in her stomach. Mr. Jones believed Tommy Wiley would make a full recovery and had promised not to reveal the Wileys’ presence at Longbourn. Standing by the cottage’s kitchen table, he expressed disgust at Collins’s behavior toward the young widow and praised Elizabeth for sheltering her.

  However, Elizabeth’s joy at the boy’s fate was tinged with concern. Mr. Darcy was a clever man. Deep in their concern for the boy, neither of the farmers’ wives had been particularly adept at concealing the truth. He had surely guessed. Then he need only drop the name “Wiley” to anyone in the neighborhood to discover that the family had been evicted from Longbourn. If only I had managed to find another estate that would take the family!

  At this very moment Darcy could be spilling the entire story to Mr. Collins. Perhaps instead of trudging to the manor when she exited the cottage, Elizabeth should race to the stable for a cart to transport the Wiley family’s worldly possessions. And then Elizabeth herself might be in need of a new living situation. Banishment from Longbourn would be a terrible fate; however, she feared Collins might exert his wrath on her mother and sisters as well.

  Closing the cottage door behind herself, Elizabeth was so engrossed in her own musings that she did not immediately recognize Mr. Darcy sitting on a tree stump near the road. He stood as she emerged. “How fares the boy?”

  This is a good sign. If he cares about Tommy’s health, he is unlikely to want to see the family evicted. “Mr. Jones believes he is out of danger.”

  “That is excellent news.” The muscles in his face loosened; he really had worried about a boy he did not know. How different he was from her cousin!

  “Might I accompany you back to the manor house?” he inquired.

  She would rather face Napoleon’s army, but it was impossible to decline. “Yes, of course.”

  They started along the road, climbing the slight incline that would let them reach the house. He did not offer her his arm. Was that a sign of anger? Disgust? He walked quite deliberately, his posture erect. Darcy held the reins in one hand as the horse trailed behind his owner.

  A minute of silence passed. A bird trilled in a tree over her head, the sound grating on Elizabeth’s nerves. She did not dare to speak. If only Mr. Darcy would say something! Or would he pretend that nothing out of the ordinary had occurred in the cottage?

  Finally, he cleared his throat. “I take it that Mrs. Greeves is as much Tommy’s mother as your ball gown was fitted for Georgiana.”

  This drew a startled laugh from Elizabeth, but she did not respond.

  “I have tried,” Mr. Darcy continued, “but for the life of me, I cannot fathom why everyone would pretend Tommy belonged to Mrs. Greeves when he was so obviously Mrs. Wiley’s son.”

  Elizabeth could find no plausible way to deny his assertion. Her skin prickled, uneasy with the subterfuge, and guilt dragged on her shoulders. She was a child who had been called to account for stealing sweets. But, she reminded herself, Mr. Darcy is certainly not my father; I owe him no obedience. “Do you believe you are entitled to an explanation?” She immediately winced at her challenging tone. There was no reason to antagonize a man who was in possession of such a closely guarded secret.

  He stared straight ahead in silence for a moment. “Perhaps not entitled,” he said finally. “But if I am to be drawn into your deception, I would prefer to know why.”

  There was a hint of rebuke in his voice. Elizabeth stared down at the tips of her boots. “I apologize. It was not my intention to draw you into this matter. I will not ask you to lie.”

  One of his eyebrows quirked upward. “But surely you do not want me to reveal the truth?”

  Elizabeth reluctantly shook her head. “I prefer that you not tell Mr. Collins, but it is unlikely the question will be put to you.”

  “Sophistry does not become you.” He slashed an inoffensive leaf with his walking stick. “A lie of omission is still a lie.” His jaw was set, and his eyes were trained on the road.

  Elizabeth wanted to upbraid the man for his black-and-white view of morality but would not increase his anger. He could do great harm to the Wileys if he revealed everything.

  Elizabeth sighed. There was some truth to the accusation that she was asking him to violate his own principles. “Mrs. Wiley has been evicted from Longbourn.”

  Mr. Darcy gasped. “On what grounds?”

  “Failure to pay rent, of course. Her husband died, and Mr. Collins would not allow her to hold the lease until her son was of age.”

  “That is unconscionable.” Mr. Darcy had increased his pace, tugging on the reins impatiently.

  “Indeed. She and her children had nowhere to go; they were destined for the poorhouse. I have hoped to find another landowner who would take them in, but in the meantime, they inhabit an abandoned cottage in Longbourn’s woods. I supply food which the other women take to her.”

  “Surely Mrs. Wiley did not devise this plan herself?”

  “No.”

  He flicked the walking stick in her direction. “It was your scheme?”

  “Yes.”

  “And your sisters?”

  She wanted to protect them by proclaiming their ignorance, but for some reason she felt most uncomfortable lying to Mr. Darcy. “They know, but they are merely accommodating my plan; it was not of their devising. My mother knows nothing.”

  He shook his head. “You are taking a great risk.”

  “I know.”

  “And I suspect it is not the only one.”

  She sucked in a breath. He was a clever man; what other suppositions had he made? “I do not know what you mean.”

  He whirled to face her. “Do you not? You are lying to Longbourn’s true owner—and scheming without his knowledge about matters involving his estate.”

  She said nothing, but her heart twisted in her chest. How much had he guessed?

  “This is your family’s land no longer.” His hands gripped her shoulders as if somehow that would help her better understand the situation.

  “I am very much aware of that,” she said through gritted teeth.

  “You only live here on Collins’s sufferance! He could revoke that at any moment.”

  Ripping her arms from his grasp, she stepped away from him. “Thank you, sir, for reminding me of a basic fact of my life. It might have slipped my mind for a minute!”

  He flinch
ed as if she had slapped him. “Of course…you are right.” He scrubbed his face with one hand. “I imagine such thoughts are ever-present for you.”

  Elizabeth crossed her arms over her chest and said nothing. At the moment it was difficult to imagine a positive outcome from this conversation.

  “I am simply concerned for your well-being,” he said in a low tone.

  A voice at the back of Elizabeth’s head rejoiced—loudly—at evidence that Mr. Darcy cared for her. Irritably, she yanked her attention back to the conversation. “And you care nothing for Mrs. Wiley’s? Or her children’s?”

  He scowled. “Of course, I care! I…I will offer her shelter at Pemberley if she will take it. We have a cottage she could use, and I would not evict her.”

  He made her ashamed of her anger. Elizabeth took a deep breath. “Thank you. I will extend that offer, although I do not know if she wants to go so far from Hertfordshire.”

  “At least if her family is gone, Collins will have less reason to banish you from Longbourn.”

  “Better that I am evicted than the Wileys. At least I have family who will shelter me, or I might become a governess.”

  He eyes widened. “But—But—! What sort of an existence would you have? Living as a dependent relative? Toiling day after day?” The walking stick waved about in agitation.

  She gave a harsh laugh. “What do you think I am doing now, Mr. Darcy?” She held up her hands. “You know I did not earn these callouses from embroidery.”

  He could scarcely glance at her hands. Why did he care? If she labored in the kitchen, it should mean nothing to him. Even if he experienced feelings for her, he would not act on them.

  He took a deep breath, gathering himself. “I understand what you have been forced into. But do not tempt fate with precipitous actions, I beg of you! I would be loath to see you brought low by Collins’s wrath.”

  Elizabeth’s lips pressed together in a thin line. “I assure you, sir, that none of my actions are precipitous. They are meticulously considered and executed.”

  He made an irritated gesture, dismissing her words. “I understand your intentions. Your desire to help Longbourn’s tenants is very natural and reflects well on your character. However…” He drew himself to his full height, towering over her. The effort to intimidate—intentional or not—irritated her. “This is a matter of the law. Mr. Collins is a landowner, and you are usurping his rights.”

  Elizabeth snorted. For a moment Mr. Darcy’s sympathy toward Mrs. Wiley allowed Elizabeth to believe he was different from other men. But here he was, uttering the precise words she would expect any well-heeled gentleman to say. “Yes, it is all about ownership, is it not?” she muttered.

  Mr. Darcy’s forehead wrinkled. “I beg your pardon?”

  “In the end, it all comes down to questions of who owns what,” she challenged.

  His expression was genuinely baffled. “Well, yes. He owns the land, the cottages, the sheep, the crops, everything that constitutes Longbourn.”

  “And I own little more than a handful of ribbons.”

  “I am afraid I do not follow.”

  Elizabeth continued, not bothering to check her words. “Your sister is fortunate. She may live at Pemberley if she does not marry.”

  “Of course. She will always have a home at Pemberley,” he said proudly.

  Elizabeth grimaced. “She is one of the few not living on borrowed time or borrowed land. She may own property, not become it.”

  He appeared taken aback by her vehemence. “I fail to see what my sister’s situation has to do with your scheme for Collins’s estate.”

  “No, I suppose that would escape you,” she said bitterly.

  Chapter Twelve

  Darcy was a bit baffled at how they had wound up in this position. Red in the face, Elizabeth glowered at him as if he were personally responsible for Collins taking possession of Longbourn.

  Her distress was understandable. She was sentimentally attached to her father’s methods for operating the estate and disliked seeing it under different guidance. Collins was certainly not a good landowner, but Darcy had seen worse. Why is she venting her spleen at me? I only care about her! And I have revealed nothing to Collins.

  Darcy keenly felt the injustice. He simply argued that she should follow the law, which was to her benefit, damn it! He did not want her to be banished from Longbourn—or arrested. Did she not understand the seriousness of the situation?

  “This is the way the English system of inheritance works. Some estates have entails.” You might as well rage against the sun rising in the east.

  “I understand it is the system, but the system is wrong. Just because my great-great-grandfather liked the idea of an entail, none of us may inherit.” She threw her hands in the air. “Any of us would make a better landowner than Mr. Collins. Why could Jane not take possession? She is the eldest.”

  Darcy frowned, confused. “But then Jane’s husband would operate the estate.”

  “Why should it be her husband and not Jane? Why, for that matter, must Jane marry at all?”

  Darcy blinked. He had never considered the question. Women rarely inherited land; if they did, they acquired husbands who would become its possessors and managers. That was the way of the world.

  Elizabeth searched his face for something but then turned away from him. Her head bowed, she muttered, “Will you tell Collins?”

  “I will not.” The muscles in her back relaxed as he spoke. “In this way you make me your conspirator.” She winced. Good, she should experience guilt for encouraging him to compromise his values. “But, again, I beg you to stop.”

  She did not reply. She was not arguing with him, and yet somehow he was losing the argument.

  “I could speak to Collins. Encourage the use of more modern agricultural methods.” Darcy was loath to interfere with another landowners’ managing of his estate, but he would do almost anything to ensure Elizabeth’s safety.

  She regarded him with a raised eyebrow. “Do you believe he would listen to your advice instead of your aunt’s?”

  Darcy’s silence was a sufficient answer. He would not fool himself about how much Collins worshiped his aunt.

  Damnation! He had known Elizabeth was stubborn and even admired that about her. So many women allowed themselves to be swayed by the judgments of others. But a strong will had its drawbacks; she was set on her path and would not listen to reason.

  “You must cease this interference with Longbourn. Even if Collins bankrupts it…well, it is his to bankrupt.”

  “No.”

  “No?” What in the world does she mean?

  “Mr. Collins is not a fundamentally better person than Jane or Mrs. Wiley or Mr. Jones. He simply had better luck—which does not confer any superiority of understanding or morals.”

  “But surely good breeding—”

  “Good breeding?” She arched an eyebrow. “The Prince Regent has good breeding. The best.”

  He did not respond. The argument was irrefutable.

  “Mr. Collins had the good fortune to be born to the right person. He had the good fortune that my father did not have sons. Above all, he had the good fortune to be male—”

  “But it is a matter of law, Eliz—Miss Elizabeth!”

  “So, the law decides that women may run estates in some situations but not in others—in an essentially random fashion. Superiority of education or understanding does not account for these differences. Is that what you are saying?”

  “Yes, I suppose I am.” Darcy pinched the bridge of his nose. “You would have made an excellent attorney.”

  “Perhaps someday they will allow women that privilege.”

  He sighed. “Somebody must lead Longbourn. It cannot thrive without someone at the helm. And inheritance is the system for selecting the person who will lead the estate. Perhaps it is not the best system, but it is nevertheless the system we have. And we must abide by it. Even if the law is…applied unevenly, it is the law. Mr. Coll
ins has inherited, and he owns Longbourn.”

  “We should abide by the law—even the letter of the law—although we know it is wrong? No, I reject that conclusion. ‘An unjust law is no law at all.’”

  Darcy recognized the quote by Augustine. John Locke and other radical thinkers had seized upon it. He allowed himself a small grin. “You fancy yourself the Robespierre of Longbourn, then?”

  Elizabeth drew herself up into a parody of a politician’s stance. “Please, nothing so…unruly. I will be George Washington or nobody.”

  She always provoked him to laughter, even in dire circumstances.

  When he had sobered, he tried again. “Miss Elizabeth, for your own sake—for the sake of your family—I beg you to reconsider this path you have set your feet upon.”

  Some of her defiance had ebbed away. “I cannot, Mr. Darcy.” Her shoulders slumped wearily. “The people of Longbourn depend upon me.”

  They were on opposite sides of a divide that he had not even known existed. She was opposed to Darcy’s very rights as a landowner. He had arrived at Longbourn in hopes that he could help the Bennets. Oh, I should stop deluding myself; I wanted to help Elizabeth. I wanted to see her eyes shine with gratitude when she regarded me. I wanted to know she was safe. I wanted to help her.

  But he no longer believed such assistance was possible, particularly not without compromising his values. The solemnity in her face suggested she sensed his despair.

  Darcy cleared his throat. “I believe it is time that Georgiana and I quit Hertfordshire. I had hoped to be of further assistance to your family, but I cannot in good conscience be party to the usurpation of another landowner’s rights.”

  Now she appeared alarmed.

  “Of course, I will abide by my promise not to mention anything to Mr. Collins,” he added hastily. “But remaining here makes me…complicit.”

  “I thank you for your silence on this matter,” Elizabeth said soberly. “The well-being of many people is at stake. I am sorry my actions have disturbed you. That was never my intention.”