But then he’d heard the penetrating voice of Mrs. Bennet, hoping for a marriage. He’d only danced with the girl once! He scowled at the memory. At least Miss Elizabeth had seemed embarrassed at her mother’s words, but it was too late, he had heard, and the memory was spoiled.
And he was here for at least the next few weeks. He was not unaware of Bingley’s interest in the eldest Miss Bennet. But it could not be. He could not permit his friend to marry into a family so ill-bred.
He wondered how soon he could entice Bingley back to London. He turned towards his bed. Sourly, he considered that he might need to demand a shooting party in the morning, to prevent Bingley from calling at Longbourn.
* * *
Three days later, Darcy rode through the woods above Meryton. It was early morning, and he had taken this opportunity, for he might not get the chance later in the day. He had conscientiously attempted to ensure Bingley saw as little of Miss Bennet as possible, although he had not been completely successful in preventing their meeting. However, he had observed them and was satisfied that he detected no partiality by Miss Bennet towards his friend. He was determined to prevent Bingley burdening himself with her family.
But each time, at Longbourn, he’d found himself in the presence of Miss Elizabeth Bennet, too. Not only that, but when they were accompanying the other couple when taking a turn around the garden, he was inevitably thrown into the company of Miss Elizabeth.
He had found himself in pleasant company — certainly more congenial than the rest of her family. Miss Elizabeth seemed to know when he wished to be quiet and when he was prepared to converse, and he found her presence quite restful.
But his concern was increasing. He didn’t wish to set up any false hope in the young lady, and not just because the mother was incorrigible.
He reined in at the edge of the wood, and stopped, looking out over the meadow below. Perhaps he could find somewhere to sit down and enjoy the peace of the countryside for a few moments. He still intended to entice Bingley back to London as soon as he could. Then there would be little chance to enjoy such empty countryside.
The horse waited quietly as he sat in the shade of a venerable oak. He glanced up at it, wondering how it had escaped the axe. With so many ships being lost in the blockade of France, and needing to be replaced during this seemingly endless war, mature oak trees were becoming a rarity in the English countryside.
He had an idea, and began searching around it for fallen acorns. He managed to fill his pockets with a dozen or so that had escaped being eaten by the wildlife.
He smiled, wiping the dry dust from his gloves. Certainly Pemberley could host some more trees in the park. Future generations might picnic under a canopy such as this.
He frowned. What was that hidden within the stump next to the oak? Looking more closely, he saw a small wooden chest, more utilitarian than decorative.
Curious, he drew it carefully out of its hiding place, for it had certainly been hidden there. He glanced round, wondering who came here, and how long ago it had been.
Then he sat down and drew it towards him. There was no key in the lock, but it was not locked. Inside was a blotter, some sheets of paper, a pen and a bottle of ink. One of the sheets of notepaper held a few sentences, and curious, Darcy lifted it out of the chest.
The writing was feminine and neat. An educated lady. He smiled faintly. A youthful, educated lady. Then he frowned. How had he surmised that?
I wonder how John would be now if he had lived to be quite grown-up? It is hard to imagine what it must have been like for him, not being able to understand or interpret how people behave.
After all, when I want to imagine how it must be to be blind, I can close my eyes and feel my way around to gain an approximation, but there is nothing I can do to pretend I am not able to understand the rules of society and conversation and to feel affection for my family and friends.
Darcy’s interest sharpened. He wondered if he were not the only one who found society incomprehensible. He wondered who this John had been, and more importantly, who the writer was. Perhaps it had been written long ago, and the lady gone away, this chest left forgotten.
He smiled wryly, and lifted the bottle of ink. Opening it, he discovered the ink was fresh, it had been used within the last few days, and he put the notepaper down as if scalded. Somehow, it seemed more of an intrusion now that he knew the writer was a living, local young lady.
Almost despite himself, he found he had opened the ink bottle again, and checked the nib of the pen.
He placed the notepaper on the blotter on his knee. Was this how she wrote her thoughts down?
Madam,
I beg you forgive this intrusion of a reply to your notes, but I have decided …
Darcy stopped, wondering what he really wanted to say. Now he had written the first lines, he would have to continue. He almost regretted having begun. He looked out over the field. How would he describe the view to a blind man? He could not think how he would even begin such a task, and for the first time, really felt the lack within him as some loss.
… that, having found your note by chance, I might beg your further indulgence by saying how very perceptive you were, to equate the lack of — social ability — to the lack of vision in a blind person.
I have been trying to imagine how I would describe the view of this meadow to a person afflicted by the lack of sight and have had no fortune in beginning the task.
So, also, I would have difficulty in explaining how the lack of social awareness feels to someone who has no perception of what the term involves.
I have watched, as if from afar, many people at various social events, both large and small. I find their apparent enjoyment incomprehensible.
He had filled the rest of the sheet, and reluctantly put down the pen. Perhaps he ought to leave it there. He thought he might return in a few days to see if there were any comment from the lady.
He frowned as he put the top carefully on the ink bottle. Then he occupied himself with mending the nib of the pen so that it was restored to readiness, and he could return everything to the chest and hide it away where he had found it.
Smiling slightly, he returned to his horse and checked the girth before remounting and turning for Netherfield. He had a lighter feeling within, and he found he was hoping very much that he would find a response in a few days’ time.
Chapter 6
Elizabeth sat at the table with her sisters, concentrating on her needlework. She wondered if the gentlemen would call again this morning. She glanced over at Jane’s flushed cheeks.
She knew her sister was getting to be very much in love with Mr. Bingley, and thought that the feeling was returned. She sewed a few more stitches. Mama was beside herself with delight at the attentions of Mr. Bingley and was so confident of an imminent engagement that she would make foolish comments.
Elizabeth tried very hard to keep them apart and encouraged the couple to walk out at every opportunity. The weather had been most amenable in that regard. But this morning, the clouds were building, and she was certain that they would sit in the sitting room in silent discomfort for the allotted time and the gentlemen would then depart.
She knew Mr. Darcy would find the occasion almost intolerable.
“Lizzy.” Her father put his head round the door. “Come to my library for a moment.”
Surprised, Elizabeth hastily put down her needlework. She enjoyed spending time with Papa, of course. But she certainly didn’t want to make it any harder for the visitors, if they came, by not being there to keep the conversation flowing.
Her father waved her to the chair by the fire and sat opposite in his comfortable leather armchair.
“Well, Lizzy?”
She looked over at him in puzzlement. “I don’t know, Papa. Have I done something wrong?”
“No, of course not. But I sensed this morning that you’re not feeling quite yourself, and wondered what might be troubling you.”
Elizabeth
leaned forward and took her father’s hand. “Thank you, Papa.” She huffed a tiny laugh. “I am not as good at hiding my feelings as I thought.” She sat back, thinking.
“I am concerned if the gentlemen will call today. As it looks as if it may rain, I cannot suggest that we go for a walk, which is my usual plan. So we will have to sit in and I am uneasy that our guests may find it a little uncomfortable.” She shrugged a little. “And there is nothing I can do to prevent it.”
He glanced humorously at her. “You mean that you think your mother will embarrass you — and them.”
Elizabeth bit her lip. “Yes, Papa.”
“Well, my dear,” her father straightened a pile of books on the small table beside him. “I think you do not need to worry overmuch.” He beamed at her. “I suggested to Mrs. Bennet this morning that she not spend too long downstairs, but plead some malaise and retire to her chambers to allow Mr. Bingley and Jane a little time together. I explained that if they do not have a little privacy — with you there, of course, then he might not feel able to make her an early offer.”
He picked up the top book and gave it a satisfied glance. “I must say, I think she will take notice of it.”
Elizabeth leaned forward. “I think you are most observant, Papa. Thank you.”
“Yes, yes!” he said, impatiently. “But I also want to speak to you regarding Mr. Darcy.”
Elizabeth turned startled eyes on her father. “Mr. Darcy?”
“Yes. Of course, you have spent the same amount of time in company with him as Jane has with Mr. Bingley.” He gazed at her steadily. “I want to ask you what your feelings are towards him?”
She was bemused. “I have been trying to be polite to him, Papa.” She smiled slightly. “I do not want him to distract Mr. Bingley from his attentions to Jane.” She frowned. “I think he does not approve of his friend’s pursuit of Jane.”
His eyebrows rose. “Really? I would have thought he would discourage his friend from coming here, in that case. Bingley strikes me as a malleable man who would listen to his friend.”
Elizabeth nodded thoughtfully. “He is indeed amiable. But I hope he is not to be thwarted. And that is why I distract Mr. Darcy.”
Papa adjusted his spectacles. “But that is not the whole reason why you make such an effort to make him feel at ease. I will ask you again, Lizzy. What is Mr. Darcy to you?”
“It is certainly not what you are imagining, Papa.” Elizabeth spoke as firmly as she could. “But — can you not see any resemblance in his manner to John Lucas?” She shrugged sadly. “I would like to think that others were kind to John, if he was in discomfort in company.”
“John Lucas. Ah.” Her father looked at the flames in the fireplace. “He was a most unfortunate young man. While he was gentle and kind, he would not have been able to make you happy, Lizzy.” He leaned back. “I am sorry he lost his life, but I would not have liked to see you give yours to protecting his feelings.”
“I do not know if I would have done so, Papa.” Elizabeth glanced at the fire, too. “I was only fourteen when he was lost, if you remember. But I was old enough to know how unhappy he was much of the time, and to feel sorry for him.”
“And you think Mr. Darcy is another like him?”
“I do,” Elizabeth frowned. “John explained once that he did not understand the bonds of affection that tied family and friends together. He couldn’t understand why anyone would find a gathering or assembly enjoyable.” She smiled reminiscently. “And I recall seeing just such an expression on the face of John Lucas as I saw on Mr. Darcy’s that first evening.”
Her father stood up and leaned against the mantel. “Well, thank you, Lizzy. I’m reassured that the last few days have not been playing out as I dreaded.” He smiled at her. “I will allow you a rather more restful time chaperoning your sister this morning if the gentlemen do call, for I intend to ask Mr. Darcy to come into this room so that we may have a conversation.”
“Oh, no, Papa!” Elizabeth’s heart sank. “I pray you do not talk of me to him!”
“Of course I will not, Lizzy.” He looked bemused. “I want to talk to him of Pemberley. I was reading in the Journal last week of the excellent management of the estate. It seems there is much to be learned of the generous way in which the labourers and tenant farmers are treated. I wish to learn from him.”
“Oh.” Elizabeth felt relieved and disappointed in equal measure. “I hope he doesn’t think you are prying.”
“Lizzy, dear, please remember I am not your mother.” There was an edge to her father’s voice and Elizabeth hurried to apologise. She just hoped that Mr. Darcy would understand.
Papa lifted his head. “I hear horses. I think the gentlemen have arrived.”
Chapter 7
Bingley was beaming as always, and Darcy thought sourly that he must somehow stop these regular calls at Longbourn. Surely the family could not be blamed if they expected Bingley to make an offer soon. It would certainly not be proper to make so many calls without the intention to do so.
As he dismounted and handed the horse to the groom, Darcy had to acknowledge to himself that he had not been firm enough in preventing the visit. But he couldn’t help himself looking forward to conversing with Miss Elizabeth. But heavy clouds loomed over the house, so it was doubtful that it would be wise to take a walk today.
Perhaps they would take a turn in the garden. Darcy dreaded the whole call being in the company of Mrs. Bennet and the entirety of the Bennet daughters. But Miss Elizabeth would make it easy for him — and he was grateful to her. They turned towards the front door and it swung open as they approached.
A flash of movement within the hall caught his eye, and he frowned. Surely it was the movement of a lady’s gown on the stairs? Was Miss Bennet retiring upstairs so as not to be available to be called on? Surely not. Although he did not feel her to be especially partial to Bingley, his friend was a good catch.
Or was it Miss Elizabeth? His heart sank, and he tightened his jaw to be able to remain impassive if he had to endure this call without her company.
But when they were announced at the door of the drawing room, only the two eldest of the sisters were there. He relaxed in relief, and felt the amusement of Miss Elizabeth as she observed him while she and her sister rose and curtsied demurely.
This morning was going to be much better than he had dreaded, and Darcy found himself with an unaccustomed smile.
When the young ladies had seated themselves, Bingley sat opposite Miss Bennet and leaned forward, ready to engage her in conversation. Darcy stood beside a chair near Miss Elizabeth and raised his eyebrows.
She smiled back at him and nodded. Darcy bowed his head and took his seat, wondering if there was something wrong. She seemed a little distracted and her hand strayed towards her needlework.
Darcy cast around in his mind for what could possibly be wrong. What should he say? He knew he wasn’t supposed to comment that Mrs. Bennet and the younger sisters weren’t present, but he was uncomfortably aware that perhaps their absence was planned.
Elizabeth looked up at him and smiled. “Please don’t worry, Mr. Darcy. There is nothing sinister in their absence at all.”
He dipped his head in acknowledgement. It was very comfortable, knowing that she understood his concerns and he didn’t need to articulate them and risk causing offence.
He glanced over at Bingley, who was already in conversation with Miss Bennet, and wondered what he should say. But the door opened and Mr. Bennet looked into the room.
Darcy felt himself flush and he jumped to his feet. Bingley looked round, startled, before rising too. They bowed.
Their host waved away their bows. “Yes! yes! Nothing to worry about. But I wondered if you might spare me a few moments, Mr. Darcy? I wish to seek your advice on a certain matter.”
“Certainly, sir.” Mr. Darcy tried not to look as appalled as he felt. He couldn’t look at Miss Elizabeth. That must be what she had been distracted about. What on ear
th was he going to say if Mr. Bennet asked him what his intentions were towards his daughter?
He followed her father across the hall to his library. Now the absence of the rest of the ladies seemed ominous.
He took a deep breath and sat in the chair Bennet waved him towards.
“Should I send for tea, or would you prefer whisky? I have a very fine Scotch sent to me by my brother-in-law. It is too fine to drink alone.”
“Then, thank you. It will be very welcome.” Darcy relaxed cautiously.
Bennet handed him the glass and glanced at him over the top of his spectacles. “It is nothing to worry about, Mr. Darcy. I have a question about your estate at Pemberley.”
Darcy felt his face close up, and his jaw tightened. The father had designs on his fortune for the daughter.
“I do not.” Mr. Bennet spoke firmly. “I beg you do not think such a thing, Mr. Darcy.” He reached over and picked up a journal from the table before sitting down in the chair on the opposite side of the fire.
“Think what, Mr. Bennet?” Darcy was now confused. He wished he’d never agreed to accompany Bingley today.
“That it’s about anything to do with my family.” He turned to the journal. “I expect you know about this article, written about the development of philanthropy in England?”
Darcy nodded reluctantly. He hated talking about charity. As far as he was concerned, all giving should be done in as much secrecy as possible. “I understand the desire of some people to hold events to gather subscriptions for good causes, sir. I must warn you that I do not attend such functions. However, if you wish to appraise me of a particular cause, I will certainly give whatever sum you feel appropriate.”
A Rare Ability: A Darcy and Elizabeth Pride and Prejudice Variation (A Pemberley Romance Book 10) Page 3
