by Jennifer Joy
Mr. Darcy's lips curled up on one side. "My aunt believes herself to be the authority on all things. She gives advice freely and without warrant. She is not accustomed to meeting gentry who do not bend to her will, or who defy her opinions by refusing to be intimidated by her."
Elizabeth smiled at the compliment. Though it did not remove the difficult situation she found herself in, it eased her conscience. There was someone who appreciated her outspokenness.
"You are not intimidated by her either, Mr. Darcy. I had thought you similar to her in manners before, yet I find that you are not the arrogant man I believed you to be. How do you spend so much time in her company? Were it me, I would go mad."
A full smile covered Mr. Darcy's face, and his eyes twinkled in mischief. It was a look Elizabeth had not thought him capable of, and the effect on her was disconcerting. Her heart played a game of skip rope in her chest.
"I would have left already had it not been for this business of Anne's earrings. Aunt Catherine did not trust the constable, him being a simple blacksmith in the village," he said sarcastically, "so she insisted that I stay."
"And you stayed? Merely because she asked?" She could not believe that he could so easily be swayed to do something he was opposed to.
He considered her for a long time, his smile giving way to a more serious look. His eyes searched her face and settled on her lips. She licked them self-consciously.
With a sigh that sounded painful, he turned his head to face the trees. He said, "That is correct." He looked at her, gluing his gaze to her eyes for a long time as if he would expand on his explanation but thought better of it and chose instead to remain silent. Elizabeth had hoped for more, but she should have known better. Mr. Darcy had never been one to mince words. He seemed to communicate much better in writing.
"I am happy you stayed," she said. She meant it.
Instead of a smile, she was met with such a look of pain, she immediately sought to cheer him up.
"After all, had you not stayed, you would have deprived us of, not only your company, but Colonel Fitzwilliam's as well. He is one of the most polite gentlemen of my acquaintance." She hoped her smile and the compliment to his relative would smooth Mr. Darcy's furrowed brow, but it had the opposite effect.
"My cousin has the advantage of happy manners and easy conversation. He makes friends easily," he said in a low voice.
Trying again to lighten his mood, she said, "Yes, and I take pride in being one of them. It must be nice to have such a man as your cousin and co-guardian to your sister."
At the mention of Miss Darcy, he brightened. "It would bring me great pleasure for you to meet her. She does not often have the opportunity to mix with other young ladies, and I am sure she would welcome a change."
"I would like that. My uncle and aunt have promised to take me with them to the Lake District in the summer. My aunt grew up in Lambton. Is that near your estate?"
Brightening further at the mention of his home, Mr. Darcy said, "It is a comfortable walking distance, especially for you. I wonder if she knew my parents."
It would have embarrassed Elizabeth to reveal that she had already asked for information about Mr. Darcy and his family from her aunt. Noncommittally, she said, "Most likely. I shall ask in my next letter."
Mr. Darcy’s smile faded considerably. Had her mention of a letter reminded him of the contents of his? He had been honest with her. He deserved as much from her. Taking a deep breath, she began, “Mr. Darcy, I apologize for drawing the conversation away from the topic you wished to discuss. You asked if I knew anything pertinent to the missing diamonds. Let me tell you what has recently happened here. It bears no light on the identity of the thief, but should Lady Catherine learn of it, Miss Lucas would have to fall on her mercy.” She told Mr. Darcy about the magazine, confiding her concerns about Maria and her absolute faith in her innocence to him. He would care for their secret as well as he did his sister’s.
He listened patiently, not once interrupting to ask any questions. Then again, she made sure to leave no detail unmentioned.
When she finished, he sighed. “Miss Lucas looks every bit as guilty as Richard. Yet, as conclusive as the evidence is against them, I cannot believe either of them capable of doing such a thing. Surely, they cannot both be guilty, and so I am led to believe that neither of them is responsible. You know of Mr. Collins’ visit and accusations, but there are more details…”
Elizabeth listened closely as he described the conversation he had recently witnessed. Miss de Bourgh’s admission that the earrings had not been stolen brought some measure of relief to Elizabeth, until it was discovered that the earrings were, in fact, gone.
She sat back against the bench, contemplating everything he had told her. It was all so confusing and contradictory.
Deep in thought, they sat in silence. Though the missing jewelry should have held her attention, she found it increasingly difficult to keep her thoughts focused on them when Mr. Darcy sat inches away. She imagined having the freedom to talk freely with him and imagined the things they would discuss. When a sigh escaped her lips and she felt her cheeks tighten with a smile, she tried think of the matter at hand. She did not want him to think she did not take his warning seriously.
"I have kept you long enough," he said amidst her struggle to concentrate. Rising from the bench, he turned to leave, but turned back. "Please, be cautious, Miss Elizabeth."
She nodded. “You too,” was all she could think to say.
Together, they walked up the incline to the front of the house, but she held back as they neared the house to let him walk a few paces ahead. Maria may quit her room to wait for Charlotte downstairs, and it would be improper for her to be seen walking alone in a secluded area with Mr. Darcy.
As she went around the corner of the house, Charlotte stood just inside the open gate. Mr. Darcy's figure retreated in the distance. Had she seen him leave?
Darcy walked away as quickly as his dignity allowed. Elizabeth, his Elizabeth, clearly admired Richard. How he wished she could think like that about him.
Leaving the gate behind, forcing himself not to look at his heart's desire, who followed him at a distance, he almost ran into Mrs. Collins. She looked as agitated as he felt.
"Pardon me, madam," he heard himself say. She nodded off his concern, which was just as well. He was in no mood for pleasantries.
Were it not for his need to talk to Anne, he would not have returned to Rosings. The last person in the world he wanted to see was Richard. He would only bother him with his playful banter and cheerfulness. Darcy did not want cheerfulness. He wished the clear sky would cloud up and drench him in rain. Then, at least, he would have an excuse for his poor mood. He would blame it on the rain.
Chapter 22
"What is this?" asked Charlotte, her hands on her hips and her face flushed. She pointed behind her in the direction Mr. Darcy had set out.
Her harsh tone raised Elizabeth's defenses. Raising her chin and crossing her arms, she said, "Mr. Darcy called about a matter of importance. His stay was brief."
"Did anyone see him come alone?" Charlotte insisted.
"I do not think so. Mr. Collins is still away, and Maria has not left her room since you departed."
"So, you felt that it was acceptable to entertain a single gentleman alone, while a guest in my home?"
Elizabeth stepped back, dropping her arms to her side. She had never seen Charlotte so angry.
"Charlotte, what is wrong? Have I offended you?"
"Have you offended me? I wonder how you have the audacity to ask such a question when you openly flirt and encourage the attentions of a gentleman you have told me you severely dislike! And, now, I find out from none other than Mrs. Baxter that my own sister, whilst in your company, did not purchase the magazine from her shop. She stole it! How do you suppose that made me feel? As my friend, you should have told me, Lizzy." Charlotte’s eyes swam in tears.
Elizabeth could have borne Charlotte's w
rath, but not her disappointment.
Stepping forward, she implored Charlotte with open arms, "I had thought that Maria had confessed her error to you. Charlotte, had I known otherwise, I would have told you myself." Oh why, oh why, had she trusted Maria?
Charlotte stepped away from her, snatching her skirt away lest it brush against hers. "And this is your response? You lay the blame on Maria when you should apologize?" She shook her head and scoffed. "And you were so quick to deem Mr. Darcy proud. Have you looked at your reflection in the mirror lately?"
Reaching out again, her eyes burning, Elizabeth said, "Charlotte, please, let us talk about this."
Instead of the meek demeanor she had grown accustomed to with her best friend, she was met with an unforgiving stare. "Do you not realize what you have done by remaining silent when you should have talked to me? You have known Maria since birth! She is not the sort to speak up, but you are. You should have told me before I unwittingly exposed my family to criticism. Mrs. Baxter knew the magazine was gone, but she could not prove who had taken it. Thanks to you keeping me in ignorance, she now has proof. Mrs. Baxter intends to send a message in with Lady Catherine's housekeeper. She will tell Lady Catherine of the crime committed against her by the sister of her rector's wife. She will call into question our moral character, Lizzy. We could very soon be without a living."
Elizabeth was stunned speechless, her limbs too heavy to move or call out to her friend as she brushed past her to enter the house.
She stood by the rose bushes, thinking that she was the most horrid person in the world. First, she accused a man worthy of her affections of being the worst sort of interloper, and now, she could very well have caused her friend to lose her home by trusting Maria. She ought to have known better. Lady Catherine would not recommend Mr. Collins to another parish. Her horror intensified as visions of Mr. Collins, dragging along a disappointed Charlotte, would be forced to fall on the hospitality at her home in Longbourn until her father met his end. It would be the death of him to see no way out of extending hospitality to his homeless cousin, and inheritor of his estate, when it became known how his own favorite daughter had caused their removal from Hunsford.
Her vision grew blurry, but she made her way back to the bench that only moments ago, she had shared with Mr. Darcy. She sat where he had been, hoping to feel the comfort of his warmth, but the breeze gave her a chill which no matter of wrapping her shawl around her could eliminate.
Dropping her face into her hands, she let the tears pour through her fingers. What a mess she had made. She would find a way out of it, she was determined. But first, she would allow herself to feel every bitter emotion. It was her punishment, her penitence for acting thoughtlessly.
When her weeping turned into sobs, then into a whimper, she pulled out her handkerchief. The soft linen soothed her swollen eyes. She caressed it to her cheek, inhaling the scent of the lavender Jane had wrapped in it as a keepsake. Thoughts of Jane, like the smell of lavender, evoked calm, and it was enough for Elizabeth to gain control of herself. Folding the handkerchief and returning it to her pocket, Elizabeth raised her face. The breeze cooled the heat in her cheeks and dried the last of her tears.
She needed to find a way, first and foremost, to ensure that Mr. Collins kept his position at the Hunsford parish. Charlotte had married him for the security he offered, and Elizabeth could not deny her friend her one desire. If she must, she would seek out an audience with Lady Catherine. Perhaps, if she explained the circumstances surrounding the wretched magazine, she could move the great lady to extend mercy to Maria. With Maria forgiven, Charlotte's position in her home remained secure.
Elizabeth rose and returned to the house. She would not seek out Maria, though now she understood why the foolish girl hid in her room. Instead, she directed her steps to her room to pen a letter to Jane where she would pretend that things were well and only show her happiness for her sister and her change of circumstances. How she wished Jane was at Hunsford with her, but such thoughts were selfish. Jane needed to be in London where Mr. Bingley could continue to court her, not in Hunsford where she would be a witness to Elizabeth's manifestation of her worst flaws. She wished she could talk to her father. He would not fix the problem, but he would have fruitless words of wisdom to share, which would at the least put a humorous slant to her worries and make her laugh. As it was, she walked up the stairs to her room and set pen to paper, hoping that the joy she expressed would seep into her being and her normal lightheartedness would return to her.
A soft, irregular knock sounded at her door just as she bid farewell to her dear sister, who would never have refused a man such as Mr. Darcy in the first place. Jane most certainly would not have offended Lady Catherine so that she was at the top of her list of suspects of thieves either.
Opening her door, she saw a downcast young lady standing with her arms drooped at her sides and her head sagging as a tear dropped onto the floor, soaking into the wood.
"Come in, Maria," Elizabeth invited her. She had little pity for her after the lie she had told, but she had grown up near the penitent young lady, and she would not cast her out of her company so easily.
Maria looked up in surprise. "You will see me?" she asked quietly.
"Of course I will," she said as the girl sat down in the chair in the corner, and Elizabeth perched on the end of her bed to face her. "Maria, what you did was wrong, and I do not understand why you lied about it to me. And to your own sister. Why did you lie? Please tell me, for I dearly want to understand."
Tears streamed down Maria's cheeks of their own volition. She did not sob, and they did not choke her throat to render her speechless.
"I came to explain. I hardly understand myself, but maybe in speaking of it with you, I can see clearer how to set things right. I have made a horrible mess." She picked at her fingers in her lap.
"Why could you not tell Charlotte what you had done? Why did you lead me to believe you had told her?" asked Elizabeth in her most patient voice.
"I was afraid," she mumbled. Looking up, she continued, "Some part of me hoped that if I ignored what I had done, then it would go away."
"Like an ostrich burying its head in the sand," muttered Elizabeth under her breath. In a louder voice, she asked, "Have you talked with Charlotte since she returned?"
Silently shaking her head, Maria resumed picking at her fingers.
"Well, it is for the best. Charlotte needs time to calm her indignation, but you ought not to wait too long. It could be that, together, you can think of a way to rectify the situation. And it might be a good idea to attempt to do so before Mr. Collins returns. I cannot imagine that he will be more reasonable than Charlotte." Nothing in her past dealings with Mr. Collins suggested that he would show the slightest amount of common sense or reason.
Sitting up in her chair with a determination about her, Maria said, "Until now, I have acted like a coward. I must do my best to set things right. I will go to Charlotte and tell her everything. I realize that there will be consequences to me for my actions, but they could not possibly be worse than what I have unintentionally done to my own sister."
"That is the mature way to see things, Maria, and I applaud you for thinking of how your actions have affected others rather than wallowing in your own misery."
"I have done enough of that, and what good has it served? Charlotte has quite possibly lost her home, and Mr. Collins will make her miserable. He will never forgive her because it was her wretched sister who caused him to lose favor with Lady Catherine. Oh, Lizzy, I do not know how I will live with myself if they are cast out of Hunsford on my account!"
She said the words with such depth of feeling, Elizabeth expected another onslaught of tears. But none came. The well had dried.
Setting her hand gently on Maria's shoulder, Elizabeth tried to think of what she would need if she were in the same situation. "The first step is always the hardest, and you have already taken it by admitting your error and allowing yourself to
see the consequences. Now, go, talk to Charlotte. Do not let another moment pass."
With a firm nod, Maria left the room. Elizabeth heard her tap on Charlotte's door. She hoped her friend would be understanding. It had been difficult to receive Charlotte's wrath out in the garden, and Elizabeth did not know if Maria could bear it. Elizabeth was not one to cry easily, but Charlotte had brought her to tears.
Elizabeth knew that it was wrong to listen, but she could not help herself from trying. But, try as she might, she heard nothing. It was a consolation that there was no shouting or yelling voices to make the eavesdropping easy. The silence made her optimistic that Charlotte and Maria would make peace.
Elizabeth went downstairs to Charlotte's sitting room. There, she would try to find something to do to pass the time and think. Charlotte's sewing box loomed in the corner. Elizabeth had not done any stitching since arriving in Hunsford, and she was not about to begin now. That task was better suited to Maria, who spent countless hours with her white work by the small window in the corner.
A book lay on top of a small, circular table by Charlotte’s chair, but it was not the sort of book that interested Elizabeth. Best to ponder the advantages of spinsterhood.
Perhaps she should return to her room. Or she could go for a walk. She should let the fresh air and open space cast their magic on her restless, guilt-ridden mood. Only, she could not leave Charlotte so upset.
Unsure what to do, but sensing she must stay in the parsonage, she curled up in the warm window seat in the front room and waited. She had an imaginary conversation with Mr. Darcy. He spoke of books, poetry, and all the things they had in common. She held his presence close to her, letting the memory of his soothing voice wrap around her like a velvet cloak.
