Mr. Darcy & Elizabeth

by Alyssa Jefferson

  “That is very nice, Miss Bennet, indeed,” the Countess said to Jane as she stood over her at the harp. “I do worry, however, that I am coming down with a headache.”

  “Oh!” Jane cried, instantly drawing back from the instrument and rising to her feet in concern. “Oh, good heavens! I wish I had known sooner! And here I was, playing so loudly—”

  The Countess shook her head. “Nonsense. I asked you to play, after all. Only now, I fear I must ask you to depart, for I am not equal to any more conversation this morning.”

  Jane said all that was proper, and Elizabeth attempted to do the same, though her aunt never looked at her, and though her own feelings were no less jumbled than they had been at first.

  The instant they were seated in the carriage, Elizabeth said, “Jane, we must never call there again.”

  “What? But—”

  “My cousin, our cousin, Lord Norwich—he has told his mother that there is—Oh, I hardly know what he has said!”

  Jane reached for her sister’s hand in concern. “But what is the matter, Lizzy? Now speak plainly, for you are worrying me.”

  “Lord Norwich!” Elizabeth answered, and it pained her even to speak his name to her sister. Yet Elizabeth forced herself for her sister’s sake to remain calm. “I cannot understand him, Jane. He has told his mother that—that he and I are…. Well, I do not know what he has told her. Lady Radcliffe did not say. She only said that she knew I was lying when I denied there being anything between us!”

  Jane replied, “But Lizzy, were you not mistaken? Surely you must have been mistaken, I cannot imagine how any such thing could have possibly—”

  “She said her son tells her everything,” Elizabeth added. “And she asked what Lady Sarah thought of us! What in the world could that mean, if not that he has said we are engaged!”

  “He would not lie,” Jane insisted. “I am sure there must be some mistake, Lizzy, that is all. Just some—”

  “I said that to her,” Elizabeth added. “I said she was mistaken, or misinformed, and she accused me of lying. She used the word ‘lie,’ Jane—that is how confident she is that I am engaged to her son.” She shook her head and shuttered. “What willful misinformation, and what folly!”

  Jane hated the thought of accusing any person of either one of these flaws, and she would have defended her aunt if she could do so without compromising her sister’s integrity. As she could have it neither way, she could not answer.

  A moment later, Elizabeth added, “She said something about when she was in my place, Jane. She was implying that she knew what it was like to be engaged to a viscount, and therefore was in my place.”

  Jane sighed deeply. “I want to say it is all a misunderstanding. It is clear that it is, for you are not engaged. But what can Lord Norwich have said?”

  “A lie?” Elizabeth said. “An outright lie, perhaps? Jane, what can his motive be? Have I offended him so badly after I would not dance with him that he is spreading lies about me?”

  Jane shook her head slowly. “No, Lizzy, that cannot be. If he were angry with you, this is not the sort of rumor he would spread. I know what it is,” she added with a knowing look, “when a man is angry.”

  Elizabeth was torn between a wish of encouraging Jane to finally disclose more about her private life than she had been doing lately, and a desire to continue to discuss the incredibly strange events of this morning. Her hesitation lasted long enough that Jane decided their direction for her, saying, “And you truly have no idea what he said to our aunt?”

  “None,” Elizabeth replied. “She seemed so confident that I already knew whatever her son had told her that she did not hint about it any more than what I have told you.”

  The carriage arrived in front of the Whipples’ door—or rather, just down the street from it. Another carriage, they found, was stopped there, appearing to have just done the business of setting down its occupant.

  “How strange,” Elizabeth said softly. “It looks like Papa’s carriage. But he would not come to us again so soon.”

  Still, the sight of the elegant chaise, which Lady Sarah had selected herself upon her marriage to the girls’ father, made Elizabeth’s pulse quicken with the hope that someone upon whom she could depend had arrived. Her father, or perhaps her governess, would be too good to be true. She longed for them both so much, especially now when she felt so adrift. It was with a quick step and a ready heart that she ascended the steps to the Whipples’ townhouse, but when she was let in by the servant, she could have cried. There, in the parlor, was not her father or Miss Watson, but a third person whom she never particularly wished or expected to see.

  It was Lady Sarah herself.

  CHAPTER 15

  __________

  “There you are, at last!” Lady Sarah cried, and she took a step toward both the girls as though intending to embrace them. But then she seemed to think better of it, and she stopped and stood where she was.

  Elizabeth glanced around the room. Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Whipple were present, but Miss Whipple was. She was seated on the sofa, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, looking at Lady Sarah—whom she had never met before—with a combination of astonishment and crossness.

  “Why are you standing there like statues? Come in, come in,” their stepmother said, and she gestured toward a little table near the fireplace where the girls knew nobody ever actually sat. There sat Lady Sarah, however, and Jane followed her with such ready obedience that Elizabeth felt she must also submit. They all sat, and once they were seated, Lady Sarah began to speak again. “I waited here almost half an hour, and I did not have the time to waste. What could take you away for a full morning? You have not many acquaintances in town, I know. I was surprised you even had this connection, for you have never gone to stay with any school friend before. You are always with me.”

  “We are always with our father,” Elizabeth corrected her.

  “Immaterial,” Lady Sarah replied with a wave of her hand. “I came,” she added, “as soon as I saw your letter, for it is faster to come in person than to write. I was quite as astonished as you were, I assure you, to learn that my brother and his wife had written to you—but then it occurred to me, as I am sure it must since have occurred to you, that it is impossible that he wanted to see you. He believed you to be with me, and this is his way of reaching me. It certainly would never do for you to go alone to Arlington Street.”

  “But we were in Arlington Street just now,” Jane said eagerly.

  “You were?” She shook her head. “Was it not a mistake? Were you not invited because my brother and his wife believed that I must also be in town?”

  “No, ma’am,” Jane replied. “We have had the honor of meeting the Earl and Countess about town, and they knew you were not with us. Lady Radcliffe invited only Elizabeth and me.”

  Elizabeth cringed, for she knew not how her stepmother would react to herself and her sister being socially promoted and distinguished in a way that Lady Sarah must have believed was undeserved—but then she saw the slow, genuine smile of pleasure spread across her stepmother’s face.

  “That is wonderful,” she said slowly, looking from one sister to the other as though she had never quite appreciated them before. “My brother and his wife have invited my stepdaughters to their home. My own family, being treated as they deserve for my sake. Now that is something!”

  “The Earl was not at home,” Jane added, “but the Countess was there, and her ladyship was very good to us, though I confess we did not call as soon as we should have, for we were awaiting your reply to my letter.”

  “My goodness, whatever for?” Lady Sarah replied haughtily. “You have never needed my permission to do anything else.”

  Jane drew in a sharp breath, and Elizabeth was so angry at her stepmother for injuring her sister that she was provoked into speech. “Because you never bring us to call there, ma’am. We certainly have never felt welcome to call there in the past.”

  “Nonsense,” Lady Sarah sai
d. “You never wished to go.”

  That was true enough. Elizabeth had been primed by her stepmother to think the two families incompatible.

  As though she had not noticed her stepdaughters’ remarks, she continued, “I am so delighted that my daughters are being distinguished in this way. What a good thing for you both. You will be thought so highly of everywhere you go. I suppose gentlemen already know you to be related to me, but to associate regularly with the Radcliffe family shall truly set you apart.” With an eye to Jane, she added, “There shall be no more talk of marrying tradesmen, I suppose, once you are known to be intimate with the family in Arlington Street.”

  Jane blushed even more deeply, and to relieve her Elizabeth quickly said, “But Lady Sarah, if you also wish to call on the Countess, you must go soon. She had planned to go out in the afternoon.”

  “Indeed? To where?”

  “She did not say,” Elizabeth said, eager to get rid of her stepmother and not caring if she was caught in a lie to do it.

  “Very well,” Lady Sarah replied. “I suppose we may continue our discussion at any time.”

  Her departure was, like everything else about her, quick with sharp edges. She did not smile or bid her stepdaughters adieu, though her new discovery of their having been distinguished by her brother and his wife made her love them better than she ever had. She only said that she did not know when she would return, but she expected them to remain at home. Then she was gone, and Elizabeth was free to discuss her visit with Jane—or almost free, for Miss Whipple was with them in an instant to say:

  “Good lord! That was the oddest visit anybody has ever paid us here. My mother and father had just gone out, and I was sure it was them or their servant coming in again to pick up something they forgot, but it was your stepmother! And she did not say a word after I told her you had gone out. Not a word! She just sat here, looking away from me and not answering when I tried to—”

  “I am sure she did not intend to offend you,” Jane said, and Elizabeth was relieved to hear that her sister’s voice did not quiver when she spoke.

  “I suppose she shall come again to see you,” Miss Whipple added, “before she goes back home. Perhaps when Mama and Papa are home, she shall have more to say.”

  To assuage her hostess’s wounded pride, Elizabeth said, “But she is like this with everybody; you need not lament it. Her conversation is just as you heard now. Either she has something to say, or she does not. There is never any need for listening.”

  For once, Jane did not scold Elizabeth for being unkind, and this, more than any other action or word, convinced Elizabeth of how offended her sister was by Lady Sarah.

  Only half an hour had passed when the sounds of someone in the entry passage reached their ears, and they each had their own speculation as to who it might be—was it Lady Sarah so soon? No, surely it was Mr. and Mrs. Whipple. But they should not come until supper time!—when in the door walked none other than Mr. Darcy. As a cousin of the family, it was not out of place that he should call—yet he had never done so before. Elizabeth felt her face turn red when she saw him, and she looked away for a moment, that she might scold her cheeks into submission to her will. How childish and unnecessary for her to blush!

  “Oh!” Miss Whipple cried, laughing as she rose to meet her cousin. “Is not this novel? All summer you have not called here, but now you are come at last.”

  “Your mother and father are now at home,” he replied in explanation, bowing most properly, though his cousin’s greeting had been anything but proper. “How do you do, Juliana?” And then, turning to the Bennet sisters, he bowed to them both.

  Elizabeth’s answering smile was broader than she intended it to be, for she was truly glad to see him—and he seemed pleased, as well. He seemed to look at her, she thought, rather oftener than was necessary.

  “My mother and father are not home,” Miss Whipple told him. “They have business this morning at a hundred different places, and they told me that I should not expect to see them again before supper.”

  “I do not mean to intrude upon your privacy,” Mr. Darcy began, looking again toward Elizabeth.

  Miss Whipple laughed. “Nonsense! What ceremony you stand upon all of a sudden.”

  He looked as though he knew not what to say, and Elizabeth pitied him. It was clear that he had a degree of reserve that made excessive familiarity unpleasant to him, particularly in the presence of those not well known to him, yet his cousin seemed oblivious to his discomfort. Elizabeth wanted to ask him a question, perhaps about his family or his business interests, but she was not sure what she could say that would not breach the confidence Mr. Darcy had placed in her when he shared so much about his recent struggles at the Hadleys’ ball.

  “Is not the weather delightful today?” she finally said, and smiled broadly while she said it, though she knew how dull she must have sounded.

  But Mr. Darcy replied very pleasantly, “Indeed, it is so fair a day that I almost wish I were home at Pemberley. I would go for a ride if I were.”

  “Do you ever ride in London?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Of course, he does,” Miss Whipple said laughingly. “All gentlemen ride, regardless of location.”

  “Yes, but in town,” Elizabeth said, “is it not—” she paused, already feeling foolish for asking such a question—“crowded?”

  For her part, she had never become a very strong rider. If she had remained at Longbourn for her education, she supposed she could have done, but in London she did not have enough interest in it to procure for herself the opportunity beyond the basic skills she had learned in earlier youth. Though her question might have merited disdain, it certainly did not meet with any from her companions—particularly the gentleman.

  “It is not terribly different from riding in any other town,” Mr. Darcy answered. “The country is where one can ride for sport, but for transportation, any city will do. London is crowded, as you say, but the horse is well trained, and I flatter myself that I am a good rider. Steady.”

  What a word it was! Steady. Elizabeth turned it over in her mind. Jane had not been wrong when she had said that Elizabeth had many dance partners, and many gentlemen in her acquaintance. She could not, however, describe any of them as “steady.” Perhaps this was what intrigued her about the gentleman now seated in the Whipples’ drawing room.

  “How much of the year do you spend in London?” Elizabeth asked.

  Mr. Darcy began to answer with an explanation of the business obligations that required him to move about rather oftener than he might like, but while he spoke, Jane was looking with some surprise toward Elizabeth. Elizabeth tried to ignore her, but she had to accept erelong that her sister would not look away until she was acknowledged. Elizabeth turned toward her and smiled, and Jane returned the smile with a look of uncertainty that made Elizabeth sure she was suspicious of her sister’s feelings. Indeed, it was apparent by their conversation that Elizabeth was better acquainted with Mr. Darcy than Jane had ever realized before. In her own complicated romances and courtships, Jane had rather forgotten to take proper notice of her younger sister’s romantic interests. She did so now. From that moment she began to watch with a closer eye, for she now recalled that Elizabeth herself had mentioned Mr. Darcy in a way that Jane ought to have found more meaningful than she had.

  When Mr. Darcy’s speech had ceased, Elizabeth asked, “Do you prefer the country to town? Or town to the country?”

  “I prefer wherever I am,” he answered with a small smile.

  “Nay, sir, that is no answer!” Elizabeth replied, laughing. “You must enjoy one more than the other. Everybody does.”

  “Is that so?” he answered. “And which do you prefer?”

  “I prefer the country,” she said with decision. “I always did, even as a child.”

  “Yet you spend your summer here,” Mr. Darcy replied.

  Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders. “I do.”

  “Is not now the best time to be in
the country?”

  “Not everyone can choose for themselves,” Elizabeth replied, “where they should go and when. We have not all the independence to come and go freely.”

  He smiled. “I suppose you think I have all the freedom in the world.”

  She caught a sadness in his eye that made her heart ache suddenly with unexpected tenderness. “No, sir,” she replied in a softer tone. “I cannot believe that of you.” Considering, she added playfully, “Nor should you have it. Someone with so many people dependent upon him, so many responsibilities—it is a privilege that is incompatible with freedom. You are not ill-suited for such responsibilities, however. They become you.”

  Now his smile was genuine, and he said, “That is consoling. I may not be free, but at least I am suited to it.”

  She shook her head and her eyes sparkled as she said, “I intended a compliment, as you were well aware.”

  A look in Mr. Darcy’s eye then—almost akin to tenderness—made Jane’s interest turn to suspicion. This gentleman must be in love with Lizzy! If he was, it was the most natural thing in the world. Lord Norwich was, of course, a more eligible match in terms of prestige, but Elizabeth had no interest in him. This would be better in every respect—a handsome, agreeable man from a respectable family, with a large fortune, whose feelings Lizzy appeared to return. It was a perfect match! Following so unpleasant a conversation with her stepmother only minutes before, Jane was glad to have so happy a distraction.

  As he was leaving, Mr. Darcy said, “I cannot call again until Sunday, but I hope that I shall find you at home then.”