Elizabeth Bennet’s Secret Protector

by Barbara Leyton

  ‘Mr. Darcy, I do not know what you mean!’

  He looked around. He did not have much time and he would not continue this conversation in his friend’s company—it was too cruel. As frustrated as Bingley was with his sister, Darcy knew he loved the woman dearly. He cleared his throat. ‘Miss Bingley, you know well what I mean. You enlisted the help of Lady Alice Trevalyan to ensure the Bennets were removed from the list at Almack’s. Not satisfied with that, you claimed there was a fire in this very house in order to keep your brother away from Miss Bennet.’ He did not mention his theory that she had done so in order to keep him from Miss Elizabeth—some things could not be said no matter how angry one was and he had no wish to be more impertinent than was needed.

  ‘I did not, I…’ she flushed redder than he had ever seen and was clawing at the collar of her gown. He felt a fleeting burst of sympathy for her, but he could not afford to pause and reconsider his actions—there was no time to do so.

  ‘Miss Bingley, there is no sense in protesting something which I have determined is a certainty.’

  ‘You have no proof of it!’ she cried, turning away and burying her face in her hands.

  ‘No, I do not,’ he said mildly. ‘But I do not need it. Your brother is a dear friend of mine and he will surely see the truth in my words when I tell him. I have never had cause to lie to him before; nor do I have any reason to do so now.’

  ‘You would not do such a thing!’ she gasped. ‘It would be unforgivably wicked.’

  He sighed. The exchange gave him no pleasure but it was vital that he continue. ‘Perhaps it would, but would it not be more wicked to keep a brother in ignorance of his sister’s wicked nature?’

  ‘I… you are… I…’

  He heard a commotion outside in the hallway and knew his time was running out. He had no intention of telling Bingley what he had just accused her of, but she had no reason to know that.

  ‘Listen to me, Miss Bingley. You must do exactly as I tell you. That is the only way you can guarantee my silence on the matter. I shall not tell a soul what I have discovered but only if you follow my instructions.’

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Elizabeth Bennet could not believe her eyes when Miss Caroline Bingley was led into the drawing-room. In fact, so surprised was she that she was unable to hide her reaction. She gasped and twisted around in her chair to look at Jane, who appeared just as astonished as she was.

  What good fortune! Not even a day had passed since she tried to convince Jane to call on the young lady, and now here she was.

  Lizzy frowned. There was something subdued about Miss Bingley. She was not her usual effusive self. She shook her head and stood to greet their visitor. Perhaps she was mistaken. After all, she did not know the young woman well, so how could she say for sure?

  * * *

  The week had dragged on at an appalling pace as Jane and, to a lesser extent, Elizabeth, waited and wondered when it might be appropriate to return Miss Bingley’s call. They spent hours huddled in Elizabeth’s bedroom, forming increasingly elaborate theories as to when Mr. Bingley would most likely be present.

  As it happened, they were spared any further despair on the Friday, when they received an invitation to dine with the Bingleys.

  If they had thought the preceding days passed with torturous slowness, it was nothing compared to the cruel manner in which that Friday seemed to drag on endlessly. They hurried upstairs to begin their toilette at a ludicrously early hour and drew the task out for as long as they possibly could.

  Finally, the hour came where they might reasonably depart the house for Bingley’s.

  * * *

  Miss Bingley was similarly subdued when she greeted them, but Lizzy paid her little attention now and it was not simply because she was too busy focusing on the clear delight with which Jane and Mr. Bingley greeted each other.

  It was not just Bingley and his sister—Mr. Darcy was present too!

  She tried to hide her delight but she could not. The best she could do was warmly greet their host and hostess before she turned her attention to Darcy.

  ‘Mr. Darcy, this is a surprise,’ she whispered as she bowed and told herself to stop smiling like a fool.

  She could not.

  Especially when she noticed that his own expression was just as joyous.

  They were not seated together at dinner and she had trouble focusing on the conversation. All she could do was look at him, even though she told herself it was hardly polite to do so. The trouble was, each time she looked up at him she found him watching her. It was such a delightful game that she had little interest in anything else.

  The food might have been sawdust for all the attention she paid to it. It was not, of course. Bingley had spared no expense in throwing them a feast unlike anything she had ever seen. Her lack of appetite had more to do with her roiling stomach than it did with the quality of the food, which she could tell was first rate.

  ‘Is it not to your liking, Miss Elizabeth?’ Miss Bingley asked quietly. ‘You must forgive my brother for his lack of hospitality.’

  It took great effort for Elizabeth to hide her smile. It had been clear to her all evening that the only thing Mr. Bingley had in mind was Jane. He was seated on Jane’s other side and they had spent the whole evening whispering and smiling and seeming to all accounts like a couple that had not a care in the world so long as they had each other for company.

  ‘Yes, it is wonderful, Miss Bingley. My appetite is lacking today, that is all.’

  ‘I do hope you are not ill, Miss Elizabeth,’ Darcy remarked. He was seated beside Miss Bingley on the other side of the table and the conversation between those two was in marked contrast to that of Jane and Bingley. It appeared scarcely two words had passed between the two of them.

  Miss Bingley looked at him askance but then looked away again without a word.

  ‘I am not, Mr. Darcy. It is… well, it is a mystery by all accounts.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ he said in a low voice. ‘A walk in the park after dinner might be agreeable.’

  ‘But Mr. Darcy!’ Miss Bingley cried. ‘I am sure our guests would prefer to sing and play at the pianoforte than venture out in the cold.’

  ‘It is pleasantly mild outside,’ Elizabeth said, not taking her eyes off Darcy. ‘And you are right; I would find that most agreeable if Mama does not mind.’

  Mrs. Bennet made no comment until Bingley’s opinion was sought. When he agreed it was a capital idea, the sisters’ chaperone was inclined to agree just as heartily and the meal progressed in even higher spirits than before, with one notable exception to the general air of delight.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  ‘It is very cold,’ Miss Bingley cried, as they all prepared to leave the house. ‘And this is not at all usual. I had hoped to sing and play for you all, and listen to you sing and play in turn.’

  Before anyone else could reply, Darcy spoke. ‘There shall be time for entertainment after our walk. Do not feel obligated to join us if you are tired, Miss Bingley. By all means rest and we shall be delighted to hear you sing for us when we return.’

  ‘Oh no I did not mean that I…’ Miss Bingley looked around, cheeks flushing violently. ‘I shall come with you, of course. Goodness, what sort of hostess would I be if I allowed my guests to go off alone into the night?’

  At this, she giggled and the others joined in out of politeness. Elizabeth was somewhat mystified by the exchange between Darcy and Miss Bingley, but she soon forgot about it as they went out. She had far more important things on her mind, and the unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach was persistent and distracting.

  * * *

  No sooner had they passed through the gates of the park, than Jane and Bingley had fallen behind them. Elizabeth glanced around as subtly as she could and found the pair marvelling at a squirrel racing up a tree trunk. She smiled at the sight.

  ‘Vermin,’ Miss Bingley hissed.

  Goodness, Lizzy thought, she is in rat
her a dark mood this evening. She looked away. Miss Bingley had stayed so close to Darcy on the walk there that she reminded Elizabeth of a duckling following its mother. She longed to divert that young lady’s attention away, but no matter what she pointed out, Miss Bingley remained steadfastly at the man’s side.

  No, Elizabeth thought with much frustration. She is not like a duckling following its mother, but a gundog waiting patiently near its master’s prey.

  That image cheered her a little, but her frustration remained as they walked along. In some places, the path narrowed and she found herself shunted behind, walking alongside her mother as Darcy and Miss Bingley walked along together. She was beginning to think that was his intention when he uttered the words that warmed up her heart and sent fresh sparks of nervousness shooting through her body.

  ‘Miss Bingley, you are far more knowledgeable about these things than I am—could I trouble you to show Mrs. Bennet the tulips?’

  Elizabeth’s heart started to race as she looked from Darcy to Miss Bingley and dared not allow herself to believe he had done it on purpose to steal some time alone with her.

  It was the only conclusion she could arrive at and so she held her breath and prayed that it was not a simple coincidence; that Darcy did not simply wish for her mother to learn more about the plants of Hyde Park.

  ‘Oh, Mr. Darcy,’ Miss Bingley cried with more than a hint of vexation in her voice. ‘They surely grow in Hertfordshire too. I am not familiar with that place, but it is not far from here is it? Mrs. Bennet, you must be familiar with tulips—you must tell Mr. Darcy not to be so foolish.’

  Mrs. Bennet, to her credit, said nothing in either agreement or disagreement. She stepped forward with a wide smile on her face and took Miss Bingley’s arm, quite clearly against the wishes of that young lady.

  Lizzy watched them go, wondering at how he had come up with such a ruse. She took a deep breath and looked up at him. Her heartbeat spiked yet again when she saw he was watching her intently.

  ‘It is too late in the year for tulips,’ she blurted in a high pitched voice that sounded nothing like her own.

  ‘I am sure,’ he said, looking from her to the path and back again. ‘That they shall find some manner of flora to admire.’

  She was heartened by the sight of him so ill-at-ease: her own nervousness meant she was far from comfortable, though she felt safe with him and glad to be in his presence.

  He cleared his throat. ‘Miss Elizabeth.’

  ‘Mr. Darcy.’ She searched her mind for something insightful to say and came up lacking. Why did she always have to sound like such a fool around him when she could hold her own with anyone else? It was insufferable.

  They fell silent—it seemed neither one was dissatisfied with simply standing there and watching the other.

  Gradually she became aware that Miss Bingley was not likely to tolerate her mother for very long. ‘How have you…’

  He started to speak at the exact moment she chose to ask him about his London home. He stopped and smiled. ‘Forgive me. What was it you were saying?’

  She shook her head, eager now to return to their unfinished conversation at Bingley’s ball. She did not dare hope… oh how she wished to reference it directly, but how could she do so without seeming ghastly and forward!

  ‘No, Mr. Darcy,’ she managed to say through the distraction of all her torturous private thoughts. ‘Please continue.’

  He cleared his throat and folded his arms. When he had unfurled them, clapped his palms together and refolded them, he looked down at her and blinked. ‘Miss Elizabeth, the last time we spoke our peace was interrupted in the most irritating manner.’

  She nodded and frowned, recalling the fuss over the fire… and yet, Bingley’s home appeared entirely undamaged. She was about to ask about this curious fact when she came to her senses and felt it altogether preferable to remain silent.

  ‘You seem perplexed.’

  ‘I am not,’ she said hastily. ‘I just recalled something entirely trivial. What was it you were you saying?’

  Miss Bingley shall surely come bounding back soon and then our private moment shall be lost entirely! she thought. That is, if what Darcy even intended was a private moment alone with me—I am assuming an awful lot about his intentions and it shall surely not stand in my favour! Oh goodness, my cheeks feel as if they are burning up!

  ‘Miss Elizabeth, you seem rather ill-at-ease.’

  ‘No!’ she cried. ‘I have never been more at ease in my life!’ She realised the foolishness of what she had just said a moment later, when the words were out and it was too late to retract them. ‘I assure you, Mr. Darcy, I am fine.’

  ‘Good,’ he said, not giving any indication of having noticed her truly odd outburst. ‘In that case, I must ask you something. Forgive me if it seems impertinent.’

  ‘Yes?’ She was barely able to breathe by now, so great was the suspense.

  He smiled and frowned and smiled again, and irrational hope rose up within her once more. ‘Miss Elizabeth, I must put the same question to you as I asked before, but this time you must note my motivation is entirely different. Well it is the same, but I was not aware of it on that previous occasion…’

  A strangled sound escaped her throat. Oh, the irony; for she had thought herself a fool but she must have sounded like a famous wit before compared to how she must sound now.

  Darcy gave no indication of noticing and her heart swelled with admiration for him once more.

  ‘Miss Elizabeth… I…’ he peered down at her with those beguiling blue eyes and her breath caught in her throat. ‘I asked you to be my wife for the rather dull reason that I did not wish to suffer the attentions of any more foolish young ladies. You must forgive me for sounding so cold. How could you accept such a proposal? Well, I ask you now to be my wife—not so that we can avoid those who covet our wealth, but because I admire and love you so ardently that the simple truth is I cannot imagine my life without you in it!’

  ‘Mr. Darcy… I…’

  ‘You believe me, I hope. I have no wish to lie to you or to secure your hand under false assurances. I love you, Miss Elizabeth, and that is all there is to it!’

  ‘I believe you,’ she whispered, stepping forward and taking his hand. ‘I believe you and I love you.’

  ‘Will you accept me, then, as your husband?’ His voice had lowered to such a whisper that she could barely hear him.

  She could not help but smile at the earnestness of his expression. How heartening it was that he was rendered just as dumbstruck by the depth of his feelings as she was! ‘Yes, I accept; I cannot think of anyone else I would rather marry, and it is for love and nothing else!’

  He pulled her into his arms and she was so elated that she paid little heed to their surroundings. He kissed her deeply and she kissed him back and they were only parted when a blood-curdling howl from behind them startled them enough that they turned to see what was happening.

  It was Miss Bingley and she appeared as horrified as Mrs. Bennet did elated.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  ‘My darling,’ Darcy said, entering Elizabeth’s bedroom slowly and keeping his eyes firmly affixed to the china teacup in his hand. ‘It is not like you to sleep so late. Here—I have brought you a cup of tea.’

  Elizabeth Darcy sat up in bed and grinned at her husband. ‘Darling, there was really no need. You could have sent a servant up with it.’ She raised an eyebrow as she took in the volume of golden brown liquid sloshing about on the saucer. ‘I might have ended up with more tea if you had.’

  He rolled his eyes and bent to kiss her when she had taken the cup and saucer from him. ‘Is there no gratitude to be had? All I wished to do was take a hot drink to my beloved wife and this is the thanks I get?’

  ‘Oh I am grateful,’ she said, laughing at his feigned hurt. She had once lamented the way he rendered her speechless and foolish, but that had changed and they came to know each other better. She adored his teasing and gentle r
ibbing and she was more than capable of responding in kind.

  ‘This tea is a travesty,’ he admitted as he sat on the edge of the bed. ‘I simply wished to see you.’

  She reached over and stroked his face, which was rough under her fingers since his valet had not yet prepared his shaving things that morning. ‘Then why did you not come and see me?’

  ‘Because I did not wish to come empty-handed.’

  She laughed. Ever since their marriage two months before, he had showered her with gifts of every sort imaginable. ‘There is no need to bring a gift when you are visiting me in our home. Surely you know that.’

  ‘I enjoy making you happy.’ He leaned over and rang the bell to summon a maid. ‘In this case I will admit I misjudged the steadiness of my hand.’

  She took a sip and replaced the cup. ‘There is just enough left in the cup to enjoy.’ She relaxed back against the pillows and watched him. ‘Dear Darcy, how could I have imagined on first meeting you that you are the sort of man who loves nothing more than to shower his wife with gifts?’

  He shook his head. ‘I cannot imagine you could have. I myself have only become aware of that fact in recent times.’

  She sighed with pure contentment. The weeks since their marriage had been a blur of social engagements, but of the kind they both liked: intimate dinners with Jane and her new husband; shopping with her darling new sister Georgiana who had come down to London to join them. That was the reason, she presumed, that she had taken to sleeping so late—she simply needed to catch up on sleep.

  ‘I have news,’ he said, standing and moving to the window.

  ‘Do you?’ There was something ominous about his tone that she did not like.

  The maid entered and was promptly dispatched to fetch a pot of tea. Darcy made no move to elaborate on his news after she left.

  ‘Darcy?’

  ‘It is nothing to be alarmed about my dear. I received word from Bingley this morning. He has taken up the lease on a house not far from your parents’ estate.’