Rocks in the Stream

by Lewis Whelchel

  “I welcome your attention, sir, and you have my consent.”

  * * * * *

  IT WAS LATE IN THE afternoon when Darcy arrived at his London townhouse. He was grateful to escape the confines of the carriage, and being unable to move about, his agitation had only increased.

  Georgiana heard his entrance and ran from the music room to meet him. Like her brother, she had dark hair and eyes. She was usually quiet and reserved, but all reserve vanished with the return of her brother.

  “Fitzwilliam, welcome home! I was not expecting you so soon. Why did you not write to let me know you were coming?” She reached up to kiss his cheek.

  “Urgent business called me back.”

  “I hope that your business can be concluded to your satisfaction and that we will be able to spend some time together.” She danced around him, relieved him of his coat, and seated him by the fire.

  “Thank you, Georgiana. How have you been? How are your studies?”

  “I am enjoying my new music master, Mr. Henry, very much. He says I am making great progress on the pianoforte. Every day I become more comfortable sight-reading new music. Mr. Gladstone is also pleased and says I learn quickly. Mrs. Annesley undertakes the rest of my education. I am struggling with French, but I am certain I shall master it one day or other.”

  “I am happy to hear it. Is there any way in which I might assist you?”

  “No, I thank you. I am content with my situation, but please tell me if you will about Miss Elizabeth Bennet, the young woman you mentioned in your recent letter.”

  Darcy winced. “There is not much to say, at least not anymore.”

  “Not anymore? What happened?” It was unusual for her brother to confide in her, and what he had said of Miss Elizabeth astonished her. The idea that he might be in love was welcome to her, and knowing her brother as she did, there was no doubt in her mind that any woman to whom he would attach himself would be someone that she could also love.

  He sighed as the memory of Elizabeth sitting by the stream came to his mind. “Miss Elizabeth is a beautiful young woman of about twenty years of age. I enjoy her conversation and the tender affection she has for me. Unfortunately, I cannot feel the same for her.”

  “You cannot? How can this be?”

  “I cannot marry her, so I have departed from Netherfield.”

  “Why can you not marry her? You obviously love her.”

  “And why do you think I love her, Miss Darcy?”

  “Because, sir, you would never have told me about her if you did not. You never tell me about how or what you feel, so I know it would take something of great moment for you to be as open with me as you were in that letter.”

  “Of course, you are correct.”

  Georgiana had never met a young woman who did not believe herself to be in love with her brother, and while she doubted such shallow feelings in Miss Elizabeth, she felt it would be impossible for her not to return the affections of her brother.

  “She has no dowry and no connections . . . ”

  “I do not understand. If you love her . . . ”

  “ . . . and because of this, she does not meet the expectations of society as a suitable wife for the master of Pemberley. It would be an unequal alliance, and would be damaging to your own marriage prospects. Our father warned me against such matches.”

  Georgiana had been young when her father died and so knew nothing of his opinion of marriage, but to deny love for reasons of money seemed incomprehensible.

  “You once told me, on an occasion when you were not hiding your feelings, that you wished to be loved for who you are and not what you have, yet you insist on marrying a woman who has wealth and property. You insist on marrying someone for what she has, not who she is? Are you not rich enough? Does fortune and consequence bring you that much pleasure that you would turn your back on a woman that you so fully love?”

  Darcy stared at her, scarcely able to comprehend her words. He should be angry with Georgiana for speaking to him in such a manner, yet he could not. She was turning his words against him, and doing so with sharp clarity.

  “You must marry for reasons of love and for no other consideration, Fitzwilliam.”

  Darcy started, recalling when he had last heard similar words, and by whom they had been spoken.

  Georgiana had never spoken to her brother thus in her life. “That is what is unequal about your attachment to her. If you truly loved her, nothing else would matter.” A distressing thought chilled her. “Does this mean I am expected to marry into fortune and consequence to uphold the Darcy name?”

  A look of horror crossed her features, and she stared at him with a disbelieving expression on her face. Unwilling to stay another moment, she stood and began to leave the room.

  Suddenly, she felt herself being pulled back. Darcy had grasped her arm to keep her from departing. “Georgiana, I am sorry.”

  “No, you are not sorry! If you were, you would return to her at once!” Her heart was heavy with feelings of compassion for Miss Elizabeth. “On what terms did you leave her?”

  “I left without seeing her.”

  She could tell from the expression on his face that he was begging her to understand him, but she could not.

  “Fitzwilliam, how could you be so cruel?” With that, she pulled her arm free and ran from the room.

  * * * * *

  JANE REJOICED IN HER NEW understanding with Mr. Bingley. He was the answer to every hope that she ever had for happiness. She could feel the depth of his affection and knew that their happiness together would be assured. They were alone and at leisure, so she determined to learn more about him.

  “Mr. Bingley, there is still so much I wish to know about you. Please tell me about your family.”

  “I have two sisters. You have met Caroline, and I have another sister, Louisa, who lives in Town with her husband. Both my parents have passed away.”

  “I am sorry.”

  “I loved my mother very much, for she was all understanding and kindness. I wish I could say the same for my father. He was not an easy man to love. He was not fond of children. We were an inconvenience to him, I think. He expected us to be his equals and to behave in a way foreign to children. I am afraid that I disappointed him.”

  Jane touched his hand for a moment to let him know that he could trust her.

  Bingley received her assurance with a smile. “He acquired a large fortune from trade, and it had been his desire to retire to an estate in the country, but he died before he could fulfill his dream. I had mixed feelings at his death. Part of me was relieved that I no longer had to live up to his expectations, and part of me felt guilty for feeling so. The only pain that I experienced was remorse for not having been on better terms with him. I hope to be a better father to my children.”

  Jane felt her ire rising against his dead father. Knowing the kind of man that Mr. Bingley was, how could she be tolerant or patient with a father who did not love such a deserving son?

  “My mother died shortly thereafter, just as I became of age. The North held too much pain for me, so I set my sights on Town.”

  “Do you like London?”

  “I found, while London was agreeable, that I did not enjoy spending all my time there. By chance, I heard that Netherfield was available. I think it took just a half-hour to come to an agreement with Mr. Morris. I feel better now than I have in a long time. The country agrees with me very well. Now it is your turn. What more can you tell me about your family?”

  The smile faded from her lips. “You already know a great deal about them, but there is one person I have never mentioned. My father died three years ago from a sudden illness. It was horrible. I shall never forget that evening but I think that Lizzy was most affected by his passing. She was his favorite, and they spent hours together talking and debating over books. I was surprised when he left Longbourn to me. It should have been hers.

  “Managing the estate has been difficult for me. The men resent receiving d
irections from a young woman, so I often have to be content with work that is delayed or not satisfactory. I have one tenant who is refusing to pay the rent. He says I must make improvements to his dwelling, yet it does not require any improvement. I am sometimes at a loss as to what to do.”

  Bingley knew he could help her with that problem and with every other trouble in her life. Someday soon, he would make his proposal. In the meantime, he would give her the time she needed to know him more fully. He had already made his decision about her.

  Chapter 8

  BINGLEY WAS PACING IN FRONT of an upper floor window awaiting the arrival of the Bennet family. They were to dine and spend the evening at Netherfield. Caroline was out for the evening, so he would be left alone with the family, which suited his purpose nicely. He wanted to display for the Bennets all his civility and good manners and obtain the regard and affection of the whole family. Finally, the carriage arrived and he saw Jane alight first, followed by the others. He ran down to greet his guests. A servant had opened the door to the family, and he met them in the entryway.

  “Welcome to Netherfield. I am so pleased that you could come. I know we shall have a pleasant evening together.”

  Jane made the introductions. “Mr. Bingley, do you remember my sisters, Catherine and Lydia? And you know my mother and Mary.”

  “You are all very welcome. And where is Miss Elizabeth?”

  “She did not feel well enough to come. I beg that you will excuse her.”

  Jane had hoped to persuade Elizabeth to join them, for she wanted her to know more of Mr. Bingley, but Elizabeth refused, saying she was not well. When Jane offered to send for a physician, she objected, saying she would remain in her room. Jane knew this had nothing to do with the health of her body but spoke of the pain of her heart. Jane’s mood darkened for a moment as she was reminded of Mr. Darcy, but she conquered the feelings, refusing to allow them to intrude on her time with Mr. Bingley. She was not completely comfortable leaving Elizabeth alone and had considered staying behind with her, but that thought was erased as she remembered that she was the reason for Mr. Bingley’s invitation.

  “I am sorry. Please let me know if I can be of any service to her.”

  Bingley offered Jane his arm and led her towards the drawing room. The rest of the family followed behind.

  “You are very kind, sir. May I inquire after Mr. Darcy?”

  “I have not heard from him since he left.” He stopped their progress and turned to face her. “You must allow me to apologize again for his behavior.”

  “I cannot allow that. You are not responsible for his actions.” She brushed her fingers along his arm to punctuate her assertion.

  He felt all the reassurance of her touch, and cherished the intimacy of that moment. “He was a guest in my home. I cannot excuse him or his insult to your sister.”

  “I hope that Elizabeth will soon forget about him.” Jane felt it was time to change the subject to one less dangerous. “Thank you for inviting us this evening. You have made me very happy.”

  * * * * *

  ONCE IN THE DRAWING ROOM, it was necessary that Mr. Bingley share his attention with the whole family.

  “Mrs. Bennet, thank you for accepting my invitation. I am pleased to have your family here at Netherfield with me. ”

  “We are grateful to you for your kindness.” Mrs. Bennet greedily cast her eyes around the room. “You have fitted this room up so nicely. Wherever did you get that wall hanging?”

  “It was a gift from my sister. This is the valley surrounding the small town in which I grew up, a place of no consequence.”

  “I have never seen anything so delightful.” She paused, and looked around the room. “Is not Mr. Darcy here tonight?”

  “No, ma’am. He left for London earlier this week. He had business there and wanted to visit his sister.” Jane could see a momentary look of embarrassment on his face. It was apparent to her that Mr. Bingley was uncomfortable with any discussion of his friend, and Jane had already concluded that Mr. Darcy had neither business in Town nor a special desire to see his sister.

  “Mr. Darcy is quite handsome, Mr. Bingley. I do hope he will soon return. Is it true that he has a large estate in Derbyshire?”

  “He does, ma’am, a magnificent place called Pemberley.”

  “Did he see much of Lizzy while she was here?”

  Jane did not know what to say to turn her mother’s thoughts. She could tell that Mr. Bingley was growing anxious. He must know that she would not have mentioned the relationship between Mr. Darcy and her sister to their mother. Mrs. Bennet’s questions could not be construed as anything other than impertinent curiosity.

  “I do not know that —”

  Jane knew she must intervene. “Mr. Bingley, how do you like Meryton?”

  He was relieved at the interruption. “I have been there only once. Mrs. Thomas, my housekeeper, reports to me that it is a delightful place. Do you often go into Meryton?”

  “Yes, we have an aunt who lives there, so my sisters walk into town twice or three times a week to visit her. I go as I am able.”

  “It must be pleasing to have relations living so near. My father was an only child as was my mother, so I have no aunts or uncles.”

  “Well, sir, perhaps you could join us sometime. We would be happy to share our aunt with you.”

  “I would be very happy to join you.”

  Mrs. Thomas announced that dinner was ready. Bingley escorted Mrs. Bennet to the dining room, and then seated himself next to Jane.

  * * * * *

  IN LONDON, THE DAYS PASSED slowly for Darcy. Georgiana’s interest in Miss Elizabeth was insatiable, and she frequently persuaded him into talking about her. This was not a simple task, for as often as he would freely speak of Miss Elizabeth, at other times he would resist all inquiries and say nothing. It was not long, however, before she knew a great deal about her and was able to gauge the level of affection she had for her brother. Georgiana observed that her brother had changed as a result of his relationship with Miss Elizabeth. He seemed to be gentler and more affectionate, and she was pleased with the change. She could only credit Miss Elizabeth for it and resolved to keep questioning her brother.

  * * * * *

  Alone in his library, Darcy poured himself a drink and allowed his thoughts to wander. The longer he was separated from Elizabeth, the more his mind was drawn to her. He remembered holding her hand while painfully relating the story of his parents’ deaths. She was gentle, kind, and compassionate and was unconcerned by his wealth and status. Her only interest lay in him as a person, and that interest had quickly grown. She possessed all the attributes he could wish for in a wife, yet he had left her and had done so without saying a word. How she must despise him! How her sister, Miss Bennet, must despise him!

  Though he had left her, he felt Elizabeth’s loss exceedingly. He called it a loss because she was lost to him. Although he loved her, he knew that any alliance between them was doomed. Her unsuitable relations would be a continual embarrassment.

  He set his glass down and moved to his desk upon which were two letters, one from his steward at Pemberley and the other from an acquaintance, Mr. Tilden. That missive was an invitation to a small dinner party in honor of his daughter, Miss Clara Tilden. She was accomplished, young and beautiful, and had a fortune of twenty-five thousand pounds.

  Darcy had known Miss Tilden since her coming out ball two seasons ago. She was pleasant enough, though she spent too much time trying to please. Darcy wished that Elizabeth had been blessed with such a fortune, then they would have been an equal match, and his father would have approved. With these thoughts, Georgiana’s words came back to him. Was he interested in Elizabeth or were property, social position, and family connections his main concern?

  Darcy accepted Mr. Tilden’s invitation. He intended to arrive before any of the other guests in the hope of spending time alone with Miss Tilden. If he could see something attractive in her countenance, wit, or m
anner of speech, perhaps he could make himself believe that Elizabeth was not the only woman he could love.

  * * * * *

  DARCY ARRIVED AT THE TILDENS’ home a half-hour early. A servant showed him into the drawing room where the family was waiting.

  “Mr. Darcy, welcome. Please allow me introduce you to my daughter, Miss Clara Tilden.”

  “It is a pleasure to meet you again, Miss Tilden. Thank you for your kind invitation.”

  Miss Tilden’s eyes were blue, and her hair golden blonde, so very different from Elizabeth, who, though not as elegant, possessed even greater beauty, for she . . .

  He recovered himself, but it was too late. His thoughts had drifted too far. Miss Tilden had spoken, but he had not heard her. “I am sorry. I was momentarily distracted. You were saying?”

  Darcy felt hot with embarrassment and was ashamed that his discomfiture was so generally noticed. Mr. Tilden eyed him with curiosity, and Miss Tilden seemed offended by his rudeness. She paused for a moment, considered him with a frown, and then spoke once again.

  “I said that it has been a long time since we met, Mr. Darcy.”

  “Indeed, it has.”

  “May I inquire after your sister?”

  “She is quite well, I thank you. Have you been in Town long?”

  “My father brought me to Town about a month ago, and I have been busy renewing old acquaintances. I have attended the theater and the opera. I spent a Sunday afternoon in Kensington Gardens and have enjoyed many of the delights that society offers. My father insists that I be known to the world, though I would prefer to remain in the country. I prefer quiet and seclusion, but if I had remained behind, I would not have had an opportunity to see you now.” Miss Tilden was kind enough to blush.

  Darcy did not believe this for a moment, and his mind wandered to Hertfordshire, where there was a young woman who did enjoy the country. It took only a moment to ascertain that Miss Tilden, for all her beauty and elegance, would never possess the lively disposition and unaffected charm of Elizabeth. The discovery was mortifying, for Miss Tilden was everything for which a gentleman might wish.