“I am quite well. However, there is a task I must accomplish when I return to Netherfield.”
“I see.”
“And before I depart, I have other news as well. The kisses caused it to slip my mind.”
This time Elizabeth managed to control her blush. “Indeed?”
“It is about your sister Lydia…”
Chapter Eighteen
Elizabeth’s mother and sisters were very pleased to hear the news that Mr. Darcy had shared about Lydia. While her circumstances were far from ideal, it was a joy simply to know she was safe and in good health. Mrs. Bennet even exclaimed over the prospect of her first grandchild. She had been prepared to pack her bags and fly to Lydia’s side immediately, but Jane had convinced her to wait until their sister neared her confinement. They did not possess the resources for frequent trips, so their mother reluctantly agreed to wait.
After that exhausting conversation, Elizabeth next needed to speak with Charlotte. The mistress of Longbourn spent much of her time with baby Robert, and Elizabeth rarely had a chance for a conversation with her friend. But the day after Mr. Darcy’s return, Elizabeth caught Charlotte just as she was leaving the nursery.
“Is Robert taking a nap?” Elizabeth asked.
“Yes,” Charlotte said with a soft smile on her face. “Kitty is watching him.”
“Do you have time for a turn about the garden?” Elizabeth asked. “There is something in particular I wish to discuss.”
“Of course.” Charlotte’s evident pleasure at the invitation caused Elizabeth a pang of regret. Although she had once been closer to Charlotte than any other woman save for Jane, everything had changed when her friend had become mistress of Longbourn.
Far more sensitive to the delicacy of the situation than her husband, Charlotte had made great efforts to be fair and kind. Wisely, she had not altered the household decorations or furnishings—so that Longbourn continued to feel like home to the Bennets. She often softened the worst of her husband’s impulses when she could. However, the alteration in their circumstances had necessitated a degree of distance between the friends. They were no longer equals; Charlotte had become the mistress of Longbourn, and Elizabeth was a dependent relative. Elizabeth had lamented the loss of their closeness but knew it was impossible for it to be otherwise.
The two women fell into step as they paced the outer perimeter of the garden. “Does Mr. Collins lament the loss of Mr. Weston?” Elizabeth asked.
Charlotte pursed her lips. “I do not believe so. He believes the man was quite irrational.” This pronouncement helped calm Elizabeth’s jittery nerves. “However, tomorrow Mr. Collins plans to investigate the matter of Longbourn’s extra sheep.”
Elizabeth carefully kept any reaction from her face. I will need to warn Greeves so the tenants who care for the sheep might prepare for difficult questions. This was not the first time Charlotte had casually dropped a piece of convenient information that allowed Longbourn’s conspirators to conceal their schemes. Raised on a farm and with greater powers of perception than her husband, Charlotte had made shrewd guesses about activities on the estate.
“Perhaps I will mention it to Mrs. Greeves,” Elizabeth said, equally casual. “No doubt her husband is bent on the sheep pens appearing to best advantage.”
“I thought he might,” Charlotte said serenely. “Collins also wondered how the roof of the Knights’ cottage had been repaired. I said it hardly mattered if it did not cost the estate anything. But he was wondering.”
Elizabeth should not be astonished at Charlotte’s recognition of her husband’s shortcomings or Elizabeth’s efforts to mitigate them. Her friend was clever and kind.
“Perhaps some of the tenants pooled their resources to help the Knights,” Elizabeth said.
“Perhaps. Although many of the cottages are in better repair lately.”
“Are they?”
A little smile played about Charlotte’s lips. “I do not believe my husband has noticed any of the others.” She cleared her throat. “He feels he has too much on his mind to be bothered with every detail at Longbourn.”
“I daresay the estate may get along just fine without his daily attention.”
Charlotte sighed as she brushed her hand along a flowering shrub. “Indeed, at times I wish my husband had never inherited Longbourn.”
Elizabeth sucked in a breath. “Oh?”
Charlotte talked almost to herself. “I have often believed he was happier at Hunsford than he is here.”
Elizabeth’s heart beat faster. What was causing Charlotte to raise the subject now? “Why do you think that?”
“He seemed quite content with his life at Hunsford, but now he concerns himself with the latest fashions, drinking port, joining clubs, and obtaining invitations to balls. He never cared about London before, but now he must abide by the ton’s judgments in every instance.” She sighed. “Apparently, having a fortune requires you to spend it in the ‘right’ way.”
Elizabeth had not concerned herself with her cousin’s happiness before, but as she considered her friend’s words, she realized Collins did seem excessively anxious. He imbibed ever greater quantities of brandy and took little pleasure in most activities.
Charlotte’s eyes were fixed on the upper branches of the trees. “He sometimes lies awake at night and worries he does not have the best waistcoats or the smartest carriage. Truthfully, he is not well suited to the life of a country squire. He knows nothing of farming, and the management of a large estate rather vexes him.”
“I am sorry to hear he is unhappy,” Elizabeth said.
Her friend gave her a sidelong glance as if doubting her sincerity, but then continued speaking. “In truth, he prefers to follow another’s instructions.”
“I would happily give him orders,” Elizabeth said with a smile.
Charlotte snorted. “As would I. But he would not take orders from a woman—unless she has a much higher station like Lady Catherine.”
Elizabeth nodded.
Charlotte continued to idly peruse the garden as if they were not having a highly consequential conversation. “I have never seen Collins so serene or amiable as when we traveled to Kent to visit her ladyship. If Lady Catherine lived in Meryton and could provide daily advice on the operation of Longbourn, I believe he would be much happier.” She shrugged. “But if wishes were horses, we would all ride.”
“Perhaps Mr. Collins would prefer to return to Rosings Park on a more permanent basis?” Elizabeth suggested.
“If only such a thing were possible!” Charlotte sighed.
“I understand from Mr. Darcy that Lady Catherine asked your husband to become her personal chaplain.”
Charlotte’s head swung toward Elizabeth. “She did? He said nothing of it to me.”
“Mr. Darcy visited her three days ago, and she expressed her desire to have Mr. Collins return to Rosings.”
They arrived at a little clearing with a carved stone bench. Charlotte walked directly to it and sat down abruptly—as if fearing her legs would not hold her. “Return to Rosings?” she echoed. “I had not thought it possible. But it would undoubtedly make my husband quite happy.” She seemed almost fearful of believing such good fortune.
Elizabeth seated herself beside her friend. “The idea does have its disadvantages. I would imagine you are happier here, where you and Robert are near your family.”
“Yes, and further away from Lady Catherine,” Charlotte said tartly.
Elizabeth laughed.
Charlotte rubbed her forehead. “Honestly, Lizzy, I do not mind Collins’s company. Mostly he harms nobody but himself. But it was such a relief to leave behind Rosings and Lady Catherine…” Conflicting emotions played over her face. “I would prefer to remain here.”
Elizabeth took her friend’s hand. “You might. There are many couples of the ton who live apart most of the year. It is a rather fashionable arrangement. Mr. Collins might appreciate an opportunity to be au courant.”
Ch
arlotte watched Elizabeth as if she offered the last chance of salvation for her soul.
“It would not appear odd if Mr. Collins were to leave Longbourn,” Elizabeth continued. “Many gentlemen manage their estates from afar….Perhaps you might remain at Longbourn to watch over the estate while Mr. Collins attends to Lady Catherine’s…spiritual needs.”
Something very much like hope began to blossom in Charlotte’s eyes. “Yes, such an arrangement would suit me quite well.” Although Charlotte was not watching Elizabeth, she spoke very carefully. “I find the air of my native Hertfordshire is much more conducive to my health, and it is so advantageous to raise Robert near his grandparents and cousins.”
And further away from his father.
A warm sensation began to spread through Elizabeth’s chest; it took her a moment to recognize it as hope. If sensible, practical Charlotte would manage Longbourn, everybody on the estate would benefit. She would listen carefully to the tenants’ concerns and advice and would make decisions in a firm but compassionate manner. Life for the Bennet sisters would improve markedly.
“However, it seems my husband has already dismissed the idea,” Charlotte said. “I cannot suggest it; he would not listen to me.”
“But if he understands that it is for the best, surely—”
Charlotte wrung her hands. “He is…stubborn. He believes it is his Christian duty to live at Longbourn and see to the well-being of its inhabitants.”
Elizabeth managed not to laugh at her friend. Collins’s presence at Longbourn could not possibly contribute to anyone’s spiritual well-being.
“Surely there is a way to change his mind,” Elizabeth mused. “Perhaps if he were convinced that Lady Catherine had great need of him…”
“Yes, he would do anything for her. But she is proud. After having offered the position once, she would never lower herself to begging for his company.”
“I might enlist Mr. Darcy’s assistance,” Elizabeth said.
“Mr. Darcy?”
“Yes. He wishes to help my family.”
“How…generous of him,” Charlotte murmured.
Elizabeth recalled that Charlotte was the only person who had guessed at Mr. Darcy’s interest at Hunsford. She experienced a sudden impulse to confess everything, but she could not reveal Mr. Darcy’s almost-proposal.
“He believes he owes the Bennet family a debt for not preventing Wickham’s depredations.”
“I see,” said Charlotte, a faint smile playing around her lips. “So, he is motivated by a desire to atone for past neglect?”
Elizabeth stood, fearing she would reveal everything if she remained. “So he says.” Charlotte smirked, and Elizabeth decided a change of subject was in order. “In any event, Mr. Darcy might have thoughts about how to convince Mr. Collins that he belongs at Rosings.”
All traces of humor vanished from Charlotte’s face. “If he does, then we will all owe him a debt.”
***
Mr. Darcy visited Longbourn later in the day, but Elizabeth had no opportunity for private conversation. Collins had kept the poor master of Pemberley trapped in the drawing room—the audience for a soliloquy that alternately lamented Mr. Weston’s precipitous departure and praised Lady Catherine’s wisdom despite recent evidence to the contrary.
When Collins learned that Mr. Darcy had recently visited Rosings, the man had been forced to recount every word of every conversation. Then Collins questioned him in detail about any alterations that might have taken place at Rosings, not excepting the size of the boxwoods near the front entrance, the placement of the mantel clock, or the arrangement of china figurines on the drawing room table. Nobody else entertained even the slightest hope of participating in this discourse.
Mr. Darcy had shot Elizabeth a despairing look as he departed. Elizabeth deeply regretted their failure to develop a secret code that would allow them to communicate a later rendezvous.
After the dinner dishes had been washed and put away, Elizabeth was far too restless to remain enclosed by Longbourn’s walls, listening to Collins read from his book of improving sermons. The days were long as they approached summer, and the sun had not yet begun to set. It was the perfect time of day for a walk.
Elizabeth grabbed her most worn bonnet and strolled toward the stream that ran through the center of Longbourn’s property. The weather was pleasant: warm, but with a hint of spring chill in the air. Insects were not yet out in force. The lowering sun cast elongated shadows of trees and shrubbery over the fields and paths.
Her father had hung a swing for the amusement of his young daughters near the grassy bank of the stream. Elizabeth often walked along the path but rarely lingered at the site of so much childish happiness. Now she removed her sturdy half-boots and stockings and sat on the swing, dangling her bare feet in the slightly damp grass. She did not move but simply sat, resting her head against one of the swing’s rough ropes and recalling childhood memories of the place.
As the sky darkened, she considered retiring. Then someone called her name. Startled, she stared at a little-used dirt road that ran along the stream, where Mr. Darcy was silhouetted against the rapidly graying sky. “Elizabeth, this is a pleasant surprise.”
Elizabeth hopped down from the swing as he strolled toward her. “I did not expect to see you again today!” she exclaimed.
“I knocked at the back door, and I fear I disturbed Hill’s after-dinner nap,” Mr. Darcy said with a chagrined smile. “She may suspect I am sweet on you.”
Hopefully, it was too dark for her blush to show.
“But,” he continued, “she mentioned that you often walked along the path that leads to the stream. I was very desirous of seeing you.”
When he stared down at her bare feet, Elizabeth immediately scrambled to find her boots. But Mr. Darcy grabbed her hand. “Do not be uneasy.” She froze and glanced up at him. “I find the sight…charming.”
Elizabeth did not don her shoes but carried them to a crumbling stone wall where they could both sit. She knew that if anyone happened by, it would appear they had arranged an assignation. But the prospect would not prevent her from enjoying his company. His mere proximity caused a frisson of excitement to course down her spine—in delighted anticipation of more kisses. Somehow he had discovered a hitherto unknown wanton side of Elizabeth.
I must be in love with him. This fluttery, excited anticipation has never occurred with another man.
Taking her hand, he gently kissed the back, but then he returned it to her lap. “We must restrain ourselves for the moment,” he said with evident regret. “If we kiss, I fear we will not stop, and there are things we must discuss. Did you have an opportunity to speak with Mrs. Collins?”
Elizabeth quickly related the whole of her conversation with Charlotte.
Mr. Darcy nodded. “That is promising. Do you believe Mrs. Collins would be a good caretaker for Longbourn?”
“Yes, Charlotte would be an excellent landowner, and the tenants would respect her. I am certain she would continue the improvements I have started. I can hardly think of anyone better suited to run Longbourn.” Discussing the prospect reignited the flicker of hope she had experienced before.
Mr. Darcy frowned down at his hands. “However, Mr. Collins remains the primary obstacle. We must somehow convince him to relocate to Rosings…without revealing it is the one thing you desire above all others. I do not know how such a man is to be worked on.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “If I could pay him to move, I would. But no doubt he is too proud to accept money from me.”
“Ridding Longbourn of Collins will only solve part of the problem,” Elizabeth mused. “I have no doubt he will continue to live beyond his means—well, beyond Longbourn’s. Even at Rosings he will be a drain on the coffers. The enhanced farming methods have improved profits, but most of that wealth will be required to repair the cottages. It will be years before the estate is truly profitable.” She bit her lip. “I do not mind for my own sake, but I cannot help thinking o
f the consequences for my sisters.”
He regarded her intently. “How so?”
“They have little enough in the way of dowries. I will not leave my sisters alone and unprotected.”
Unexpectedly, Mr. Darcy’s hand—large and warm—engulfed hers. Skin against skin. The sensation was new but not unpleasant.
“If you would possibly consent to be my wife…” His voice was deep and sonorous. “We might bring your sisters to Pemberley with us.”
“Mr. Darcy?” Had she heard him correctly?
“Elizabeth,” he said in a somewhat exasperated tone, “I believe when a woman has kissed a man as passionately as you have kissed me, she is entitled to call him by his given name.”
Gazing up at him through her lashes, she swallowed hard. “William.” How could something so simple simultaneously feel so wrong and so right? “Would you really take in my sisters?”
“Pemberley certainly has sufficient space, and Georgiana would be pleased to have additional female companionship. She talks often of meeting Kitty.”
“That is a most generous sentiment, Mr. Dar—William. But I cannot guarantee that any of my sisters will ever marry. Their portions are so small—”
“My dear.” His voice was firm but gentle. “Once I am your husband, I may give them dowries.”
“Oh. Oh!” Suddenly Elizabeth realized what he was offering. A whole new vista unfolded before her. Not only could he improve her life, but he also could make a difference for her entire family. How could she refuse—particularly when she longed so desperately to accept? “You are the soul of generosity, although Mary has often expressed her desire never to wed. I had been thinking I might find a place for her as a governess or lady’s companion.”
“I could help find a position for her, or she could live with us. But surely Kitty will want a dowry…”
“And Jane,” she prompted. Was he forgetting Jane? Above anyone she deserved a fine dowry; then she need not marry Mr. Shaw.
“Yes, about Jane…” William averted his eyes. Did he not want to take Jane to Pemberley? It was hard to imagine. Nobody disliked Jane.
Rebellion at Longbourn Page 25