Rebellion at Longbourn

by Victoria Kincaid

  Darcy’s eye followed the direction Weston indicated. The field was neatly planted, and the crops were growing well, without any sign of illness or blight. However, the plants were undoubtedly clover—an integral part of the Norfolk crop rotation system. Clover did not deplete the soil of nutrients as many other crops did and thus was preferable to leaving a field fallow. No doubt it was essential to Elizabeth’s plan to modernize Longbourn.

  “Damned waste of a field that should have wheat!” Weston gestured wildly to his employer. “You should evict these tenants from the estate!”

  Collins shifted his gaze unhappily from Weston to the farmers. Darcy recognized one of them as Mr. Greeves, a tenant who Elizabeth had mentioned. Collins would not be pleased at the prospect of replacing a man who was a leader among the farmers.

  “What did the tenants have to say?” Darcy asked, primarily to give himself time to consider the conundrum. The field was undoubtedly planted with clover when Weston and Collins expected wheat, but Darcy did not want to cause problems for Elizabeth or thwart the scheme she had expended so much labor upon.

  The two farmers regarded Darcy warily, no doubt believing he would take Weston’s side in the dispute; landowners tended to stand together. “It’s wheat,” the first man said to Darcy. “I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced, Mr. Darcy. I’m Greeves, and this is Meacham. We were telling Mr. Weston that it is simply a different variety of wheat from what one usually sees.”

  Darcy was impressed the tenants could say such a thing with a straight face. Wheat and clover did not resemble each other in the least.

  Collins stared at the field, squinting in the bright sunlight. “It does not look like wheat.”

  That was certainly true. However, gainsaying the farmers would hand Weston a victory and could have dire consequences for Elizabeth’s entire Longbourn scheme. Greeves might be evicted, Elizabeth’s plans would be uprooted, and Weston’s position would be strengthened at the very moment that Darcy desired his departure.

  Darcy had promised he would help Elizabeth but had not anticipated that the assistance could take this form. In retrospect, he had been naïve. Perhaps it was inevitable that his commitment to Elizabeth would be tested by his willingness to practice deception in her service.

  Collins was obviously bewildered by the dispute. Perhaps Darcy could bluff. Darcy straightened his spine, imagining he was as arrogant as Aunt Catherine. “I am amazed you have not seen this variety of wheat before, Mr. Weston.”

  The farmers suppressed astonished grins as Darcy supported their falsehood. “It is a bit oddly shaped, to be sure, but I am told it is quite a hardy variety,” he continued, striving to make the falsehood believable.

  “Really, Mr. Darcy?” Collins asked with wide eyes.

  “Indeed. We grow it at Pemberley.” It was true that they grew clover at Pemberley. “Remind me what this variety is called, Greeves?”

  The man suppressed a smile. “I’ve heard it called Scottish wheat, sir.”

  “Oh yes, yes,” Darcy agreed blithely.

  “This is clover!” Weston stalked to the end of a row of crops and pulled a plant out of the ground, shaking it at Darcy. “Clover! I don’t know what your game is!”

  “Mr. Weston, sir, I don’t think you should be pulling up Mr. Collins’s crops!” Meacham called to the steward. “That’s a valuable plant, that is,” he confided to Collins.

  Collins stepped forward. “See here, Weston—”

  Weston regarded his employer with pleading eyes. “You cannot tell me that you believe these-these men over such evidence?” He held up the plant.

  “Mr. Darcy is Lady Catherine’s nephew!” Collins exclaimed in a shocked voice.

  This may be the first time my relationship to Aunt Catherine has done me any good, Darcy mused. Not that my lineage lends me any agricultural expertise.

  “He won’t believe me about the sheep either!” Weston said bitterly to nobody in particular.

  “What is this about sheep?” Darcy asked. “Are some missing?”

  “No!” Weston said. “There are too many. Twenty more than Longbourn should have!”

  “Surely you miscounted, Mr. Weston,” Greeves said in a placating tone. Meacham concealed a smile behind his hand.

  Darcy frowned. “I fail to see what is so distressing about additional sheep. Certainly it can only benefit Longbourn. Perhaps the estate simply had a better breeding season than initially believed.”

  Weston threw his hands in the air. “There are too many sheep!”

  Darcy’s lips twitched. “Mr. Weston, perhaps you have been working too hard. You should allow yourself more time to rest.”

  “This place is impossible!” Weston cried, red in the face, drops of sweat trickling down his cheeks. “Nothing is as it seems. Clover is wheat. Mysterious machines transform into spinning wheels. Sheep appear out of nowhere. Longbourn is a fairyland!”

  If the man were not such a blackguard, Darcy would have experienced some sympathy for his bewilderment. “Are you quite all right, sir?” he asked. “These delusions—”

  “They are not delusions!” Weston shouted. “It’s this place. Longbourn! It’s enchanted or something.” He pointed to the tenants. “You don’t realize it! This place has blinded your eyes.” An expression of dawning realization passed over his face. “The longer you remain, the more it fools you.”

  “Weston—” Collins started.

  The man ignored his employer, whirling on Darcy. “Escape now! While you can! It’s too late for them!” He gestured wildly to the other men.

  “Mr. Weston!” Collins said sharply.

  Weston backed away from the others. “I shan’t stay. Not a minute longer! Not one minute, not even if you beg me!” Nobody was begging him. “Consider this my resignation, Mr. Collins!” He was already scrambling toward the road. “I am resigning, and I will not remain for any amount of money!” He paused dramatically, awaiting a protest that never arrived, before turning on his heel and stalking toward the manor house.

  Collins regarded Darcy. “Perhaps I should offer him more money? But Lady Catherine was so strict when she ordered me not to give him one penny more,” he wailed.

  Darcy choked back a laugh. “No, I believe your initial impulse was correct. Longbourn does not need a steward. Mr. Greeves can fulfill those needs quite admirably.”

  Collins and Greeves displayed twin expressions of surprise. “I thank you for your vote of confidence, sir,” Greeves said.

  Darcy shrugged, uncomfortable with the gratitude. In truth, he knew little of Greeves, save that Elizabeth trusted him, but she did possess superior discernment.

  A horror-stricken expression crossed Collins’s face. “But Lady Catherine was so strict in her instructions about how I should keep Weston happy! I had quite forgotten.” He chewed on his thumbnail. “Perhaps there is yet time to persuade him to a different decision.” Without even bidding the other men goodbye, the owner of Longbourn hurried up the road.

  Once he was out of earshot, Greeves grinned conspiratorially at Darcy. “I thank you for your help, sir.”

  Darcy shrugged helplessly. “It is what Miss Elizabeth would desire.”

  “Indeed.” Greeves nodded, evidently pleased to find someone else following Elizabeth’s direction.

  Before resuming his trek to the manor house, Darcy spoke with the tenants for a few minutes, finding them to be clever, level-headed men. He could not say he was pleased to be part of Elizabeth’s deception, but at the same time the experience was not wholly unpleasant. Collins and Weston had harmed many people in different ways. Darcy was not sorry to have achieved some revenge.

  ***

  Elizabeth was setting the dining table for dinner when Weston slammed open the front door—startling her soundly—before marching through the hallway and up the stairs. She opened the dining room door and peered up the stairs after him; across the hall, Jane did likewise from the drawing room. After exchanging puzzled looks, they returned to t
heir duties.

  Five minutes later, she recognized the sounds of Collins’s distinctive shuffling walk as he entered the house. Muttering exclamations of distress under his breath, he immediately hurried up to Weston’s bedchamber. After a few minutes, sounds of indistinct shouting drifted down the stairs.

  The voice was unmistakably Weston’s, but the words were nonsensical. She heard him speak of “fairies” and “enchantments.” When the other man’s rants fell silent, Collins’s voice took on a wheedling tone.

  Jane crossed the hall to join Elizabeth in the dining room, but neither could guess what had brought the two men to such a pass. When everything fell silent again, they closed the door.

  Soon afterward, they discerned Collins’s steps on the stairs and hurried to the door. By the time he had reached the final step, Elizabeth could no longer restrain her curiosity. “Is something amiss, Cousin?”

  Collins’s hand worried what remained of his thinning hair. “Mr. Weston has…er, resigned.”

  Unfortunately, clapping would be an inappropriate response. Elizabeth tried to marshal appropriate concern. “Resigned? He has not been at Longbourn very long. What could possibly be the matter?”

  Collins adjusted his spectacles. “Apparently, there is a difference of opinion about what constitutes wheat versus clover.”

  Elizabeth exchanged a mystified look with Jane.

  Her cousin puffed out his chest. “But Mr. Darcy corrected his misapprehension.”

  Mr. Darcy had returned? Elizabeth barely managed not to blurt out the question.

  “Will you hire someone else?” Jane inquired.

  Collins’s shoulders slumped. “I suppose Lady Catherine might know another candidate. But Mr. Darcy does not believe the estate requires a full-time steward.”

  This was Elizabeth’s opportunity. “If I might make a suggestion, Cousin?” She plowed ahead without awaiting his response. “Mary has become very familiar with operating an estate and already knows many of the tenants’ wives. She might be of assistance in helping you put the estate in order.”

  “I cannot make a woman my steward!”

  Having anticipated this reaction, Elizabeth raised a placating hand. “She need not have the official title, but she could provide invaluable assistance.”

  Collins opened his mouth, on the verge of rejecting her advice.

  “And there would be no need to pay her,” Elizabeth added.

  The magic words. Collins’s eyebrows rose. “Very well. I will consider it.” He hurried into his study while Elizabeth ducked back into the dining room, where she discussed the incident with Jane.

  Elizabeth returned directly to the kitchen to investigate the progress of that evening’s stew. She had been in the room mere moments when she heard something rattle on the glass in the window by the back door. She paused, trying to identify the source. The rattling sound came again. Peering through the window, she saw nothing, so she opened the back door and scrutinized the courtyard.

  Lurking at one corner of the house was a tall figure swathed in shadows. “Mr. Darcy!” She rushed to join him, barely remembering to close the door behind her.

  Elizabeth longed to throw her arms around him in a greeting, but he put a finger to his lips. “I did not want to alert the household to my presence. I would like a private word with you,” he said in a low voice.

  A thrill ran through Elizabeth. She reminded herself sternly that he likely had sensitive news about his aunt. His “private word” would not include kisses.

  “Of course.” Although they did not touch, their proximity felt quite intimate to Elizabeth, making it difficult for her to focus on Mr. Darcy’s words.

  “I arrived just now from London and visited Rosings Park the day before.”

  “Do I have you to thank for Mr. Weston’s abrupt decision to leave Longbourn?” she asked.

  He colored most becomingly. “I suppose in a roundabout way, but not through any actions on my aunt’s part. She refused my entreaties to recall the man. However, I did encounter Mr. Weston and Mr. Collins immediately after my arrival at the estate…”

  As he related the story of the clover and the wheat, Elizabeth started to laugh and seemed unable to stop. By the conclusion of the story, Mr. Darcy was chuckling as well.

  Finally, she sobered. “I must thank you, Mr. Darcy. I know you abhor deception.”

  He inclined his head in acknowledgement. “I do. However, I found this experience unexpectedly…satisfying. Weston does not belong at Longbourn. Since I was unable to persuade my aunt to recall him, I am pleased to play a role in affecting his departure.”

  “Did she explain why she hired him? Is she completely oblivious to his faults?”

  Mr. Darcy leaned against the stone wall of the house. “It is quite an interesting tale. She sent Weston to Longbourn in the hope that he would allow Collins more leisure time to visit Rosings Park.”

  Elizabeth’s eyebrows shot upward. “Surely it would be simpler to invite him.”

  Mr. Darcy grinned. “Indeed, but I believe she harbors a hope that Collins might return to Rosings permanently.”

  It took Elizabeth a moment to parse this information. “She misses Collins?”

  “Apparently, the new rector is not sufficiently sycophantic for her requirements.”

  Elizabeth was compelled to laugh at that dry observation. “She may have him and gladly! I will even wrap a bow around him.”

  He grimaced. “Yes, I know there are few at Longbourn who would mourn his absence. But Weston’s departure, however necessary, will make it more likely that Collins wants to be actively involved in the estate.”

  Elizabeth thrust her hands into the pockets of her dress. “Yes, it is an enticing idea that we might send him to Kent, but I do not know how to accomplish it. I have been singularly ineffective at convincing my cousin to do anything. Perhaps the best strategy would be if I told him not to go to Rosings.”

  This earned her a chuckle from Mr. Darcy.

  They stood in silence for a moment. Elizabeth scanned the courtyard, considering all the parts of Longbourn her cousin found distasteful. “Oddly enough,” she said finally, “Mr. Collins might be happier at Rosings. He does not seem to…take pleasure in being the master of Longbourn.”

  “Hmm…” Mr. Darcy rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “He enjoys the clothing, brandy, and cigars.”

  “Oh yes, he takes pleasure in living like a wealthy man,” she agreed. “But he dislikes the everyday tasks of running the estate. He loathes making decisions—any decisions—or altering anything in any way. If it were in his power, he would write to Lady Catherine daily and surrender every decision into her hands.”

  “Nothing would make her happier,” Mr. Darcy observed. “Perhaps he belongs at Rosings after all.”

  Elizabeth sighed. “Perhaps, but would Mrs. Collins prefer Kent? Here she is near her family and far away from Lady Catherine.” Her brief bubble of hope had popped. “Charlotte is my friend. I would not secure my happiness at her expense.”

  “Your feelings do you credit,” Mr. Darcy said, his dark eyes holding hers. “But perhaps you should speak with her on the subject. She, beyond anyone, would know whether her husband would be happier in Kent and could relate her thoughts on the prospect.”

  “I will endeavor to speak with her tomorrow,” Elizabeth agreed. Although she found it difficult to care about Collins’s happiness, she did worry about Charlotte’s.

  Mr. Darcy regarded her intently. “If Collins can be persuaded to leave Longbourn for good, then you might be free to…make other decisions…”

  She suddenly noticed how close his head was leaning toward hers. “Perhaps…” she whispered.

  And then he was kissing her again. The kiss expressed the two days of pent-up longing and loneliness that Elizabeth had experienced as well. He had not said that he missed her—that he ached with her absence—but it was not necessary after such a kiss.

  He drew her closer, pulling her body against his until s
he could feel the beat of his heart through the layers of their clothing. His hand cradled the back of her neck, teasing the exquisitely sensitive skin there. She longed for his touch elsewhere on her body, uncaring if the sensations were wicked.

  A voice sounded in the distance, reminding them forcefully where they were.

  They sprang apart guiltily, eyes darting about to notice if they were observed. But there was nobody in the courtyard; the voice must have been far away. Mr. Darcy chuckled at his own nerves.

  “We should not do such things,” Elizabeth whispered.

  “Hmm…I disagree. We should do such things. Only we should find a more private location,” Mr. Darcy replied in a teasing voice.

  Elizabeth’s breath caught. If a single kiss could make her forget herself so thoroughly, what could a whole series of kisses do? He could tempt her to do almost anything.

  “I should depart before I am presented with further temptations,” he said. “Collins saw me on the road, but I will tell him I thought better of visiting today after the encounter with Weston. I will pay a formal call upon the family tomorrow.”

  “Of course,” Elizabeth agreed.

  But before Mr. Darcy had turned away, she caught his arm. “Oh! I have quite forgotten the other news.” Her pleasant mood immediately evaporated. “Mr. Shaw visited my cousin yesterday, and they were sequestered in his study for several hours.”

  He frowned in concern. “Is that unusual?”

  She nodded. “I do not believe Mr. Shaw has ever called before, and he did not sit with the family in the drawing room at all.”

  “You think he plans to make an offer for Jane?” Mr. Darcy asked.

  Elizabeth nodded. “And soon!”

  Mr. Darcy drew in a sharp breath. “Surely she will not accept.”

  Elizabeth stared down at her feet. “I believe she will. She does not love him, but she will believe it is her duty. It would relieve Longbourn of the burden for her care and put her in a position to care for the rest of us.”

  Mr. Darcy’s face had grown quite pale. “Are you feeling ill, sir?” she asked him.