The Curse of Land's End

by Rose Lorimer

  Fortunately, for the sake of my sanity — and I am not talking about the invitation, but tolerating the shrill voice of my mother castigating me every single time she put her eyes on me — the expected letter arrived at last.

  “Miss Elizabeth, your father requests your presence in the library,” Mrs Hill said, trying to hide a smile.

  Oh, dear. Even the servants knew about this much expected letter.

  I ran downstairs and knocking on the library’s door, I entered.

  There, looking at me as if he could have seen me through the door, my father stood; a large smile on his lips. He said nothing, just extended his arm with a letter — the letter — in his hand. “Would you care to read this letter for me, Lizzy? I cannot find my glasses anywhere,” he said, hiding his glasses behind him.

  “Of course, Papa,” I replied a little breathless.

  The handwriting was disturbingly perfect. I turned the paper and did not find one blot of ink. Those simple facts could say a lot about the writer’s character.

  I raised my gaze and Papa was still intently looking at me. I blinked and turned my focus to the letter. I read:

  Dear Mr Bennet,

  I beg your pardon for writing to you without the benefit of a previous introduction. My name is Fitzwilliam Darcy, and I am Mr Bingley’s friend.

  The reason I am now penning this letter is to invite your daughter, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, to accompany me and my cousin, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, on a trip to Cornwall with the purpose of visiting Mr Bingley and his new bride. It is my understanding from Bingley’s last letter that his wife has a great expectation for this arrangement in what, fortunately, I can gladly oblige. Unfortunately, my sister Georgiana, who was expected to accompany us, is currently in Scotland. If this is agreeable to you, though, I would suggest that Miss Bennet could bring a maid or a friend to accompany her.

  I have no previous engagements, and my cousin and I will travel in two days’ time from tomorrow, and spend a month there.

  If this arrangement suits you, I would suggest you and the ladies come to London, and spend the night here in my house so we can leave at first light on the following day.

  Please let me know your answer to start the arrangements.

  Yours faithfully,

  Fitzwilliam Darcy

  My heart was pounding so fast and loud I believed even Papa could hear it. “So, what do you think? Will I be able to go?” I looked at him with my best pleading eyes. Not so much for a lady not given to subterfuges.

  He just smiled as his face relaxed. “Yes, you can. After listening for endless nights to the praises of this Mr Darcy, I believe the chap, and his cousin — a Colonel, no less! — can be trusted. We just need to find a companion for you. Your mother will not dispose of one maid, though. Can you think about anyone else who could accompany you there, Lizzy?”

  This was a hindrance. Charlotte Lucas was travelling at the moment and I could not believe any of my other friend’s parents would allow them to travel with two other gentlemen they did not know. Added to that was the fact they already considered me a bad influence on the younger ladies in our small community. Avoiding embroidery and endless hours practicing the pianoforte, to use my time in a much more enjoyable way, were not exactly good things to recommend myself. I had become a little… unpopular.

  A person came to mind. Perhaps I was being mean to some degree, but Edith could be a good option. She was not exactly a good friend, but she had been ostracised by society for her unattractive appearance and timorous behaviour. Perhaps traveling would be a good way to expose Edith to life and strengthen her convictions — whatever they were.

  I suggested it to Papa.

  He looked at me and twisted his noise. “Well,” he finally said after a long silence, “I believe she will need to do. Are you sure you can deal with her for a whole month?”

  “Papa… I do not want to sound patronising, but poor Edith does not exactly have many opportunities to meet new people or even travel. I know I am not inviting her as my first option, but I think we, both of us, could enjoy the arrangement—if only her parents allow her to come.”

  And so it was. Papa went to visit Mr Wiley and extended the invitation. To our great surprise, her parents were happy to oblige. Edith was a single child of old parents. Mr and Mrs Wiley married late and when any hope of having children had almost vanished, Mrs Wiley had finally conceived. It is unnecessary to say that their overprotective nature towards their single girl — who could easily be their granddaughter — marked her personality and character. She never left home, barely said a word and was very, very shy and afraid of almost everything.

  In my heart, the guilt of bringing her for pure lack of options was now being replaced by a feeling of contentment, for being able to provide her this rare opportunity to travel and make new friends. I could only hope she would make the most of it.

  With all the details arranged, Papa replied to Mr Darcy’s letter, saying we would be at his door at the expected time.

  Chapter 4

  Darcy

  Two days later, I noticed a small carriage stopping in front of my house. As it seemed, the expected Bennet lady had arrived.

  To my great exasperation, I was not feeling comfortable. After receiving Mr Bennet’s letter thanking me for allowing his daughter to accompany us to Cornwall, a sense of dread overtook me and if it would not be the rudest thing I could ever imagine doing to the family of my dear friend, I would have cancelled the whole thing. I was still struggling to overcome my social awkwardness and feared I would be very poor company. If the trip was to last for two hours, I was sure I could manage it. But four days?

  Osmond knocked on the study door and announced the visitors. I received the news with as much equanimity as I could gather and followed him to the drawing room.

  A distinguished gentleman turned from the window at my entrance. “Ah! Mr Darcy, I suppose? Allow me to introduce myself,” he said, extending me his hand. “I am Thomas Bennet, father of whom I understand is your best friend’s wife.”

  The old gentleman seemed a pleasant person, and I felt more comfortable as we shook hands.

  “Mr Bennet, it is a pleasure to meet you. Bingley wrote to me about his wonderful news. Unfortunately, I was detained in the north with some unpleasant business at the time—”

  Blast!

  “I hope you have had a good trip from Hertfordshire,” I quickly added, changing the subject from my ‘unpleasant business’ before he could inquire after it.

  Fortunately, Richard entered the room at that moment and I grabbed the opportunity, introducing him to the older man. I ordered some tea — and wine, but this last option was rapidly rejected — and invited the two men to sit, fearing looking around and finding the mentioned lady, even knowing my childish attitude would not change its inevitability. Mr Bennet, despite his inquisitive eyes, did not seem bothered in the slightest. And for that I was grateful.

  “Mr Darcy, I cannot thank you enough for your kindness in taking my dear Lizzy to see her sister. I just hope she does not cause you any… inconvenience.” An enigmatic smile spread over his face.

  I paused, my back and shoulders immediately stiffening. What was he saying? I took a deep breath to calm myself, forcing my mind to see another meaning for his words. I failed. My hands became sweaty. Was I condemned to spend four days in the company of a troublemaker? After all that had happened to me?

  I looked around and finally saw a small blond lady turning to us. Her round face had so many freckles that it reminded me of a full moon. I looked back at Richard and he shrugged as if reading my thoughts.

  I stood up and approached her, remembering Bingley’s words about his wife’s remarkable beauty. I confess I was expecting someone more, well — heaven forgive me — pretty. I could only conclude that perhaps my friend was more in love than I had thought, seeing beauty where there was none.

  “And this must be your daughter.” I turned to the lady. “Miss Bennet,” I said with
a proper bow.

  Mr Bennet interrupted me with a chuckle. “No, no. I am sorry, Mr Darcy, allow me to introduce you to our party. This is Edith Wiley. Miss Wiley is an old friend of my daughters and Lizzy’s companion for the trip as per your instructions. And that one over there,” he said, pointing to a man at the door, “is old Owen, my footman. I asked him to accompany Elizabeth. He has been working with us since she was a baby. It will give me more peace of mind knowing he is travelling with her. I hope you do not mind.”

  I could not fault the man for his request. It was a good thing to guarantee one’s daughter’s safety and reputation. I would have done the same in his place. “Not at all. I perfectly understand your concerns, sir.” I turned to the lady in front of me, bowing to her. “I beg your pardon, Miss Wiley. It is very nice to meet you.” I turned back to Mr Bennet confused. “So, where is Miss Bennet then, sir?”

  I followed Mr Bennet’s eyes as he tilted his head toward the far end of the room, where some of my finest paintings hung on the walls. “I am afraid she has found your art collection,” he said, amused.

  I held my breath as my gaze rested on Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

  “Oh… a George Stubbs, and it is magnificent…” the lady whispered absentmindedly, raising her fingers in front of the painting as if absorbing the artist’s way of painting. “The contrast of shades and light…”

  As if feeling my eyes on her, she turned to me; our gazes locked for a moment before she walked in my direction. The most intriguing pair of green eyes stared back at me. I could not avert my eyes. It was as if they were… enchanting me. She was so… God. She was exquisite. The delightful dark hue of her mahogany hair framing her delicate heart-shaped face cascaded over her shoulder, resting on the edge of her décolletage; her perfectly red and full lips reminded me of… ripe cherries? Her figure was slim but not lacking in curves in all the right places. And although being a tall man, I could see… she would perfectly fit under my chin.

  I felt a shiver coming down my spine as she approached me. I blinked, trying to break the spell, my involuntary reaction disturbing me. I cleared my throat twice trying to recompose myself, thanking God my back was turned to Mr Bennet in that moment.

  “Mr Darcy, please allow me to introduce my dear daughter Elizabeth.”

  “Mr Darcy,” she said with a voice that combined sweetness and determination, curtsying elegantly.

  “Miss Bennet,” I finally said, bowing and keeping my stern face because I had no idea how to react before such perfection. If Mrs Bingley had half of her sister’s beauty, Bingley had not exaggerated in calling her an angel.

  “What a magnificent collection of art you have here. And that painting is amazing!” she said, pointing to the picture she was observing.

  Recomposing myself, I said, “I see you have found one of my favourite paintings, Miss Bennet.”

  “Indeed? Pray tell me, what is it you like the most in it?” She walked back to the painting, looking at me from over her shoulder, as if inviting me to follow her.

  I confess I was not prepared for her prompt question. It was not common to find young ladies so interested in art — especially my favourite work of art.

  I followed her, and I stopped by the painting, giving it a good look. “I… I think I like the way the white horse stands out against the dark ground. It seems frightened confronting the danger the lion represents. My first impression is that the horse has no escape. But, then, I cannot avoid looking at the skies and comparing the horse’s brightness with that of the clouds. In a way, I feel that despite the danger, there is… I mean… there is hope, I guess.”

  I turned back to Miss Elizabeth, quite surprised with my choice of words. I had thought about that feeling many times admiring this painting. That was one reason I really liked it, but I had never put it in words. There is always hope.

  She looked at me, her delicate forehead wrinkling. She looked back at the painting, absorbed, tilting her head and, not a few times, raising her hand to her lips. I could not avoid smiling. She was so… different.

  I thought about how it should have been had I met her under other circumstances — at a ball, for instance. I would have praised her beauty and invited her to dance. Or, perhaps, would just hope I could keep my mouth shut long enough to avoid saying something untoward.

  I held my breath as she looked back at me. She smiled and returned her eyes to the painting.

  I began to feel very uncomfortable having someone like Miss Elizabeth traveling with us for four long days. She was a delight to behold.

  Just not by someone like me.

  Resigned, I turned my eyes back to the painting, straightened my back and lifted my chin, concentrating on my long and deep inhaling.

  “Mr Darcy?”

  I startled. “I beg your pardon. Did you say something?”

  “Yes, sir. I said I believe you are right. I can feel this sense of hope you mentioned. And I am quite surprised. I have never viewed this picture in this way before. It is very… unique.”

  There was a small pause as she chuckled, then turned to me. “Oh! Please forgive my manners. I was led astray. Allow me to thank you for your kindness. It will give me great pleasure to see my dear sister again and stay with her and Mr Bingley. I understand he is a great friend of yours. He has told us many things about you, especially how the two of you met and how you defended him in his first year at Cambridge.”

  Her enthusiasm doubled my concerns. “Please, do not mention it. Yes, Bingley is a good friend. We met during my last year. He had just been admitted and was not doing well with some other ‘real gentlemen’s sons’ — as they called themselves. I just offered Bingley my support, and we became good friends.”

  She looked at me through flickering lashes, broadening her smile. “Remembering the conversation we had with Mr Bingley, I can only conclude you are quite modest, sir. Mr Bingley told us how you confronted those ruthless young men, denouncing their shameful behaviour to the headmaster. And when that did not solve the problem, how you took it on your own hands… literally. This speaks highly of your character, Mr Darcy.”

  Her beautiful eyes examined me as if I were a rare species in exposition. If she could only know the kind of man I was…

  Once again unsettled by my inability to talk and, and in a struggle to keep a neutral expression, I just bowed.

  Feeling embarrassed by my strange reaction, I turned to the others and introduced my cousin to her. His attitude, obviously, was not in the slightest equal to mine — despite seeming more amused than usual. My cousin had that rare talent of being pleasant and jovial, especially when beautiful ladies were concerned.

  “Miss Bennet, it will be a pleasure to have you, and Miss Wiley, as our companions on this trip,” Richard said, bowing in his most gallant way, giving me a meaningful look.

  Blast the man.

  “Well,” I finally said, keeping my hands firmly behind my back. “We leave tomorrow morning at first light. If the weather is dry and the roads are in good condition, we can arrive there at dusk on the third day; noon of the fourth if we are not so lucky.”

  I rang the bell for Mrs Hayford, my housekeeper, and asked her to accompany my guests to their rooms.

  Mr Bennet thanked me but declined the invitation to stay and accompany us. “I will dine with my relatives, Mr and Mrs Gardiner, Bingley’s associate, if you remember.”

  “In this case, I bid you a good night. Be assured I shall take good care of the ladies, Mr Bennet. You have no reason to worry about their safety.”

  “Thank you, Mr Darcy,” Mr Bennet said looking at his daughter and then back to me, holding back a smile. “And I am sure you will have a superb time.” He hugged and bid his daughter a safe trip.

  I could not avoid feeling the man was concocting something in his mind.

  I turned to Mrs Hayford. “I believe the green chamber will suit Miss Wiley, and Miss Elizabeth can have the lilac one.” I checked my pocket watch. Half past four. “Please, rest. Dinner
will be at seven.”

  After Mr Bennet was gone, I noticed Richard gazing at me with a mischievous smile. I could not control myself and gave him a threatening gaze. His smile turned into laughter as he left the room.

  I had no doubts. Richard had realised my quick, but unmissable lapse admiring Miss Elizabeth.

  Blast the man’s perception!

  I was predicting a long trip ahead.

  Very long indeed.

  Chapter 5

  Elizabeth

  Saying goodbye to Papa proved to be a difficult task. He insisted on keeping his mischievous gaze switching between me, Mr Darcy and his cousin, as if predicting something would happen between us.

  I took Edith’s arm and followed Mrs Hayford to our accommodations for the night.

  Light bathed the house and the smell of wood and beeswax was everywhere. Mr Darcy’s townhouse was everything I have imagined: elegant, clean, practical and cosy. In a few words, just perfect.

  Unfortunately, I was not sure if I could say the same about its owner.

  The man exuded mystery—which was disappointing. Well, not his appearance. He was tall — six foot and some inches, a perfect fitting above my head. His clothing was of the best quality and perfectly tailored, emphasising his broad shoulders and good posture. Dark brown curly hair, with some rebellious tresses falling over his forehead; a pair of distracting sideburns contrasting with his smooth, shaved face; perfect shaped lips… and mysterious blue eyes, which seemed to hide some kind of secret…

  A wave of warmth spread throughout my cheeks. Good heavens! What was I thinking, noticing Mr Darcy in this shameful way? What would Mama think of me now, admiring such a male specimen?

  I brought a hand to my mouth, coughing, disguising my chuckle. Probably, she would finally be proud of me!