“That is a shockingly bad notion, for he would very likely take you for a partridge and shoot you.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Sarah found Lucinda on the terrace, set up with her watercolours, the very picture of a modest, accomplished young lady passing her time just as she ought. Lucinda was not in spirits and she brushed away a tear as Sarah sat down beside her.
This was no time for sympathy, what use were tears to anyone? “Pull yourself together, Lucinda. You are distressed because Lady Catherine has invited Sir Philip to Pemberley, and although you are engaged him and he is to be your husband and supposedly the source of all your future happiness, the prospect of his being here makes you wretched.”
Lucinda said nothing, but dropped her head in a miserable nod.
“You do not have to marry a man you dislike, we are not living in some infidel state where young women are sold into marriage without their consent. For heaven’s sake, if you do not wish to marry this man why did you accept him? And having accepted him–”
Lucinda burst out, with a sob, “You do not understand. You have a great deal of resource and certainty about you. I have not been brought up in such a way, my father rules his household strictly, we live by his rules, he might as well be an eastern potentate.” She caught herself up. “Oh, I should not speak so of my father, it is very wrong and undutiful of me.”
“Don’t worry about that. The truth is the truth. Do these rules include his determining whom you must marry, with no concern for your feelings?”
“It is more that I am used to obeying him and submitting to his judgement.” She paused for a moment and then said, in a rush, “And besides, if I marry than I shall have an establishment of my own and…and my father and brothers will not be able to tell me what to do all the time. If I cannot marry the man I love, then it doesn’t matter whom I marry.”
“You speak as though you were the languishing heroine of a three-volume novel, incapable of deciding anything for yourself.”
Sarah spoke more harshly than she intended, since it struck her forcibly that Lucinda’s words were a reflection of her own state of mind when she decided to accept Lord Winterbourne. “You are betrothed to Sir Philip, but you are in fact in love with Lord Winterbourne.”
Lucinda looked at her, eyes swimming with tears.
Sarah said, “Crying will do no good. What we need here is action and determination. I am right, am I not? You are in love with Lord Winterbourne?”
Lucinda’s head drooped again and she nodded, biting her lip.
Sarah, repressing her irritation, said, “In which case, why could you not marry him? Was there a quarrel?”
Lucinda’s head flew up. “Quarrel with Lord Winterbourne? Oh, how could you ever think of such a thing? No, there has never been anything but perfect amity between us. But, you see, at that time he was simply an army officer, with no prospects beyond what promotion might bring him. His elder brother was the next heir, and he seemed hale and hearty enough, only of course he was killed in India. But all that happened later. You must know that my father is very active in politics, and he and Sir Philip–I do not altogether understand it. There is some business to do with a seat in Parliament, it is all to do with political alliances and family connections and so on.”
Sarah said, “So you are the sacrificial lamb? It will not do. You must tell Sir Philip when he comes that you cannot marry him. Return his ring, express whatever regrets you feel to be necessary and then it is all over.”
Lucinda’s eyes grew round with horror. “I cannot do that, not once the engagement has been announced. It has been in the Gazette. I would be known as a jilt, disgraced.”
Sarah said shrewdly, “I do not know who has put such stuff into your head. It is not so uncommon, people do make mistakes. The gossip of the town lasts only for a few days until some new scandal takes its place. You have not lived in London, you do not know how such things work out in that world. Once you are Lady Winterbourne no one will remember for instant that you were once engaged to Sir Philip.”
“My father will,” Lucinda said with a despairing sob. “I am not of age, and he has to give his consent. He will not do so.”
“What if Sir Philip were to cry off?”
“There can be no question of that! Even worse than my crying off would be for the gentlemen to do so. Oh, I wish that it would all come out differently. For now Lord Winterbourne has the title and will take his seat in the House of Lords he must be acceptable to my father. But it is all too late. Oh, I am so unhappy.”
Doleful tears splashed on to her painting, turning the balustrade of the terrace and a nearby tree into a grey and brown puddle.
“You must summon some strength of will. You cannot consign yourself to a life of misery with a man you do not love simply because you do not have the ability to say that you will not marry him.”
Lucinda said sadly, “You have never met my father.”
Sarah left her gazing sorrowfully at her painting and went off in some disgust, hoping that she might be able to have a word with Captain Hyde but fearing that his shadow, Mr. Collins, would prevent it. And the gentlemen would soon be off with their dogs and guns.
She went into the hall and found the butler there. On an impulse, she said, “Tiverton, did you give the key to the maze to Mr. Collins?”
He bowed. “I did, my lady. Unfortunately my memory is not what it used to be, and I fear that the instructions I gave him and which he wrote down were perhaps not entirely accurate.”
A knowing look passed between them and Sarah said with a smile, “Thank you.” She paused, “Do you think it might be possible for you to distract Mr. Collins’s attention for a few minutes?”
They exchanged another look, and Tiverton replied, “I believe there is some talk of Mr. Collins joining the shooting party this morning. I can ask the man who will be his loader to seek him out upon some technical matter.”
“Just for a few minutes. And do you know of a place called Wynersh?”
“I do indeed, my lady. It is some eleven or twelve miles distant from here.”
Sarah pulled a face and said in a disappointed voice. “Is that so? Then it will do very well, scarcely more than an hour’s drive with swift horses. Is it a good road?”
“Well enough, but you are not thinking of driving yourself. Mr. Darcy–”
“I shall not be driving myself, do not look so anxious. And there is no need to say anything at present to Mr. Darcy, for it is all just a plan, nothing is fixed.”
Before she spoke to Octavius she must talk to Lord Winterbourne. She found him in the library, dressed for shooting and turning over a volume of poetry in a desultory fashion.
Sarah said to him, “William, I want to ask you a direct question and I expect a direct answer. Are you in love with Miss Hawes?”
The book fell from his fingers, and he looked wordlessly at her.
“Come now, we have known one another long enough to be truthful with one another. You proposed to me, even though you are not in love with me. And I am not in love with you. I agreed to give you an answer, and ever since then we have been avoiding each other. On your part, this happened after the arrival of Miss Hawes. She has told me what once passed between you, and confessed that she is in love with you. She is in a terrible state because she does not want to marry Sir Philip.”
Lord Winterbourne’s face lit up. “She does not want to marry Sir Philip?”
“Of course she does not, she is in love with you and you with her. She wants to marry you, not Sir Philip. She cares even less for him than you do for me.”
“So you do not want to marry me?”
“Not in the least. I have entirely other plans. No, I do not have time to speak of it now. I just want to ask you one favour. When you are out shooting today, Mr. Collins is going to go with you.”
“Mr. Collins?”
Sarah nodded. “Yes, and he will be a most tiresome companion. I cannot believe he knows one end of a gun from an
other, and he will talk and prose away all the time. Mr. Darcy will become more and more annoyed and quieter and quieter and the whole expedition will rely for any good humour on Mr. Bingley, who is never put out of countenance even by a fool like my cousin Collins. Now, what I want you to do is to stop Mr. Collins fretting about the fact that Captain Hyde is not with you when you set out. You must make up some excuse, say that he had some problem with a gun but will catch up with you.”
Lord Winterbourne eyed her uncertainly. “I can do this, but why? What are you up to, Sarah?”
“I am trying to untangle all the knots in this affair. No, I am not up to anything reprehensible and even if I were, it is none of your business. Mr. Collins has been instructed by Lady Catherine to watch Captain Hyde closely. It is all very tiresome and stupid. But Mr. Collins will feel reassured if he thinks that Captain Hyde is merely delayed, and by the time it becomes obvious to him that he is not going to join the rest of you, you will be too far away for him to do anything about it. It would be most discourteous for him to leave the group at that stage. And perhaps by then someone will have shot him.”
Lord Winterbourne burst out laughing. “Sarah, you wretch.”
“I do not wish any real harm to come to him, but he really is a nuisance. Just be glad that we women do not shoot, because otherwise you would have Lady Catherine among your shooting party. Only imagine what that would be like.” Lord Winterbourne drew a hand across his eyes. “I think I had rather not know what you are up to, Sarah, but I will do as you wish.” He grasped her hands and said, suddenly earnest, “And if you can contrive it that Lucinda may be released from her engagement then–well, all I can say is I would be the happiest man alive.”
Sarah said, “Consider it done. And I have another favour to ask of you. I have to drive somewhere and would like to beg the use of your curricle and horses.”
He shook his head, “Anything to be of service, but you cannot drive my horses. I can ask my groom to drive you.”
“I would not attempt to drive your horses, I am no kind of a whip. I intend for Captain Hyde to drive me.”
“My groom,” he began.”
“There will be no room for your groom, if my plan comes off. You may trust Captain Hyde, he is more than able to handle your horses.”
“They will be fresh.”
Sarah had seen Octavius drive her brother’s spirited pair, long ago at Rosings. “He is as good a whip as you, you need have no fears on that score.”
“If you are sure–”
“Send word to the stables. Don’t worry, he will not overturn the curricle, nor lame the horses, nor anything else in that catastophic line.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Tiverton had done his work. The rest of the shooting party were waiting on the terrace, but there was no sign of Mr. Collins. Mr. Bingley stood a little way apart, talking to the gamekeeper with Mr. Darcy, while Lord Winterbourne was trying to adjust his gaiters as a dog frisked about him.
Sarah beckoned to Octavius. He came back inside and, taking him by the hand, she whisked him into a small parlour. “You are not going shooting, Octavius. No, this is no time for embraces, much as I would like it. Listen, Lord Winterbourne will tell the others that you have some problem with a gun and they are to set out without you. For your part, just keep out of sight while I go upstairs and change into more suitable clothes for driving.”
“Driving? What is this? I am engaged to shoot.”
“Forget that. We are driving to Wynersh.” By this time she was half out of the room, and he called out her, “Wynersh? Where is that? Why do we go there?”
“You will find out soon enough.” Then she paused, and came back into the room, saying, “It is a good question. I have no idea where Wynersh is. Ask Tiverton, he will give you directions. I will be ready in ten minutes, and I will meet you at the stables. You will be there before me, and you will find everything ready, we are to go in Lord Winterbourne’s curricle, it is all arranged.”
“Is it? You do realise that if your aunt finds we have driven out together–”
“There will be a most unholy row. Yes, I know. However, if things work as I plan, all that will be quite beside the point.”
“Sarah, you are up some mischief.”
“We are both up to mischief, but it will all work out for the best, trust me.”
Lord Winterbourne’s groom was not at all happy when Sarah told him he would not be needed. Hand over those horses to a naval man, when all the world knew they were cow-handed, drove as though in command of some nasty boat, heavy-handed? He’d not get through the gates in one piece, the horses’s mouths would never be the same...”
Sarah silenced him, and by the time he had seen Captain Hyde take the curricle easily through the archway out of the stableyard and watched him bowling down the drive, keeping the horses well up to their bits, everything as it should be, he heaved a sigh of relief.
The drive was a pleasant one. The countryside was at its mellow best, the horses fresh and above all there was the delight in being in each other’s company. They enjoyed an exhilarating drive and it was with flushed cheeks and joyful spirits that they trotted into the village of Wynersh.
On the way, Sarah had told Octavius what they were about. “It came to me quite suddenly that Mrs. Paxton, whom I know slightly–I told you of her–comes from this part of the world. We spoke together about Derbyshire at some assembly or other. She mentioned Wynersh as being the place where she was brought up, and my guess is that, having no country place left to her by her late husband, she will have come here when the season in town finished.”
“So it is all guesswork, the purpose of this mad dash across country? And the lies you have forced Lord Winterbourne to tell? What do you hope to gain by this?” He listened as she outlined her scheme, but shook his head. “I do not think it will work, but I suppose now we have come this far, we shall have to go through with it. Must we enquire for Mrs. Paxton’s direction?”
“Her father is the rector and here we are, at the Rectory. Let us hope that she is here, and at home.”
Mrs. Paxton was. They were ushered into a pleasant room, where she sat at a writing table. As they were announced, she laid down her pen and rose to greet them, a puzzled look on her face. “Lady Sarah, what an unexpected pleasure.”
She was an ethereal creature, fair, with a pale complexion, huge brown eyes and an anguished expression. Sarah whispered to Octavius, “Do not be deceived. She may look as though one puff of wind would blow her over, but I am convinced that she is quite strong-willed enough to do what needs to be done.”
Sarah introduced Octavius, and then set about explaining to an astonished Mrs. Paxton exactly why they had come.
Chapter Twenty-Four
While Octavius listened to Sarah’s rapid explanations he was doing some thinking of his own. He intervened, saying, “There are some practical considerations. It is all very well, this scheme, but we have to consider what will be the effect of Mrs. Paxton’s appearance at Pemberley. You plan a confrontation, but do you seriously expect that that Sir Philip will be overcome with guilt and remorse and therefore attend to what Mrs. Paxton has to say and feel the rightness of her cause? He turned to Mrs. Paxton and said, “Forgive my impertinence, ma’am, but I do not know–indeed I do not wish to know what passed between you and Sir Philip–but was there a degree of intimacy that would preclude his offering for another woman?”
Mrs. Paxton, for all her die-away looks, was no fool. She grew thoughtful, grave and then said, “You are right to ask these questions. Of course, any man may change his mind in affairs of the heart. He may transfer his affections to another woman, as we women also do. One sees it happen over and over. But I assure you that his engagement to Miss Hawes is no kind of a love match, no bouleversement as the French say. It is a matter of expediency, you may trust me on this. I know Sir Philip through and through. I am aware of his many failings and the serious flaws in his character, and so I know just how far he
will go for his own advancement.”
Sarah stared at her. “And knowing this, you still want to marry him?”
A slight colour came into Mrs. Paxton’s cheeks. “I do indeed. There are reasons–I do not wish to explain, but I will do almost anything to see that this marriage between Sir Philip and Ms Hawes does not take place. I do not know Miss Hawes, and so I cannot at a personal level consider her feelings on the matter, but out of common humanity I know that for a chit of her age to marry a man like Sir Philip, so many years her senior apart from his character, can lead to nothing but disaster. She is a sacrificial lamb in all this, and I have never cared for the idea of sacrificial lambs.”
Octavius was struck by this. Lucinda as a shorn lamb, sacrifical or otherwise, was an apt image. “So you think that you will be able to bring Sir Philip to change his mind? It will be difficult for him to break off with Miss Hawes, with things having gone so far.”
Sarah said, “My hope is that when Sir Philip’s perfidy is revealed, Miss Hawes will summon up the courage to cry off herself.”
Octavius doubted it. From what he had seen of Miss Hawes, she would hardly have the courage to say boo to a goose.
Sarah went on, “At least this conversation will be between her and Sir Philip. I am sure she has not been allowed to talk to him without her papa being present, and he is the principal behind this match.”
“We need to make haste,” Octavius said, taking up his hat. “We do not know exactly when Sir Philip will be arriving at Pemberley, but the sooner we are all there, the better.”
Mrs. Paxton rang for a servant, told her to bring refreshments, and promised to be down in ten minutes. Octavius gave orders for their horses to be brought round, and true to her word, Mrs. Paxton appeared at the door, accompanied by a man in clerical dress. There was some disagreement there, but Mrs. Paxton didn’t linger to argue, instead almost running over to the curricle where Octavius was waiting to hand her in. “It will be a tight fit, he observed, swinging himself up. “Fortunately, you are both slim.”
Mr Darcy Requests the Pleasure Page 14
