by Jann Rowland
“The Bennets, by all account, have nothing but daughters in their ranks, except for the youngest, who is still too young to attend. I can control my cousins.”
“It is an audacious notion, and it might fail in a spectacular fashion.”
“It also may be a means of beginning to shape a rapprochement between them.”
Though she thought about it for a moment, Lady Charlotte smiled at length and shrugged. “Yes, I suppose it may be possible.”
“Then it is decided,” said Fitzwilliam with a grin.
Kitty Bennet was not the most noticeable of the Bennet sisters. Then again, Kitty had never attempted to be noticeable. Aware of her strengths, Kitty had always contented herself with allowing others to garner attention, for she was not comfortable with it—in this, she was like her elder sister, Mary.
It was this, in part, that made her closeness with Lydia work so well. Lydia, far from avoiding attention, reveled in it, often going out of her way to ensure she received it. Lydia was the acknowledged leader of the pair and Kitty the follower, for she knew she had no talent for leading.
There were times, however, when Kitty wished her younger sister was not so brash. Not that Lydia was improper. Lydia knew how to behave, knew what was expected of her as a young woman and daughter of a baron. It was only that Lydia seemed to delight in pushing those boundaries, in testing how far she could bend the rules of polite society. Kitty could not understand it, for though the greater force of Lydia’s personality often swept her along in her sister’s wake, Kitty would never have gone so far herself.
This business with the Darcys was, in Kitty’s opinion, a matter which they should not test, for there was too much opportunity for misunderstanding, and with it, a greater possibility for trouble. And yet, Lydia, with her usual boldness, could not help but push. A good example happened that morning in Lambton.
The Bennet sisters often went thither, especially the younger ones. They would congregate with their friends there, patronize the shops for news, amusement, and purchase whatever caught their fancy and often visited their Aunt Madeline at the parsonage. On that morning Kitty was not certain what had led them there, but when they met one of the Darcy family, they did not depart at once as their father had instructed.
It happened as they were outside the milliners, looking inside the window at a bonnet Lydia had pointed out. They debated the merits of the hat for some moments, Lydia thinking it was fine, while Kitty did not like it at all. Then Lydia seemed to go still for a moment, though Kitty could see nothing extraordinary to affect her so, and then she turned.
“Well, well, if it is not Mr. Alexander Darcy, gracing the streets of Lambton again with his presence.”
Turning, Kitty saw that it was Mr. Darcy, passing the street on the other side. That he had seen them was clear in the glances he shot at them, but it seemed the recent confrontations had taught him caution, for he endeavored to pass them without acknowledging Lydia’s words.
“You see, Kitty?” said Lydia loudly. “That is the problem. There is no room for civility. Until we can be civil with one another, we shall remain at odds.”
“That is a sentiment with which I happen to agree.”
The sisters turned to look at the gentleman, noting he had stopped and was now regarding them. Though uncomfortable, Kitty noticed Lydia meeting his gaze, as bold as ever.
“Then you confess the Darcy family is in the wrong?” asked Lydia, arching an eyebrow at Mr. Darcy.
“I believe I said no such thing,” refuted the gentleman, though his pleasant expression never wavered. “It seems to me, Miss Lydia, that no one is at fault in the dispute. Or perhaps it is more correct to say we are all at fault.”
In spite of herself, Kitty was interested in why he would say such a thing, and Lydia was no less intrigued. “On what do you base that opinion?”
“Why, on the length of the dispute. There is no one alive who remembers how it began; thus, I would suggest it is that person or persons who are responsible, not anyone of us who must live with the consequences. To the best of my knowledge, none of us have offended anyone from the opposite side.”
“Did you not injure my uncle?” asked Lydia. While Kitty might have thought her sister would pose such a question with an air of accusation, Lydia’s tone was light, almost unconcerned.
It seemed Mr. Darcy saw it too, for his response was not as defensive as it might have been. “Perhaps you do not know, Miss Lydia, but we both shared a certain level of blame for that incident. Mr. Gardiner himself has told me he bears me no ill will.”
At that moment, a young woman of the neighborhood, someone Kitty had seen but never met, passed them on the street, her head turned in interest toward them. Reminded of her father’s decree, Kitty thought it was best they departed, prompting her to tug on Lydia’s sleeve.
“Lydia, remember what Papa said.”
Though Lydia appeared about to dispute Kitty’s assertion, Mr. Darcy spoke up: “Yes, I believe that would be for the best.” The gentleman smiled at Kitty, adding: “If your father is anything like mine, he has warned you away from all Darcys.”
“Why, does your father warn you from all Darcys?” asked Lydia.
Mr. Darcy roared with laughter. “Oh, you are a saucy one, Miss Lydia. I can see a man must be sharp to keep up with you.”
On what looked like the impulse of the moment, Mr. Darcy crossed to them and caught up Lydia’s hand, bowing and kissing it. Then he did the same with Kitty, winking outrageously.
“I should not like to make trouble for such interesting ladies as yourselves, so I shall take myself from your presence. Until next time.”
With one further bow, the gentleman turned and walked away, his stride brisk, the sound of a whistled tune floating back to them. In a moment he left their sight, leaving the two bemused girls to turn and make their way home. Kitty’s bemusement lasted only a moment, for she soon turned to her sister and scolded her.
“Lydia! You know we are not to speak to the Darcys. Why do you persist in doing so?”
“As I informed you before, I like to tease Mr. Darcy,” was Lydia’s blithe reply.
When Kitty continued to glare, Lydia threw her hands up. “Very well! I shall not speak to them anymore.”
“You said that before,” reminded Kitty.
“I did,” was Lydia’s careless reply. “This time I shall keep my word, though I do not know why we should avoid such a charming man as Mr. Darcy.”
Then Lydia fell silent and stalked on ahead, leaving Kitty to hurry to catch up. The way Lydia had phrased her final comment was enough to make Kitty suspicious, for she thought Lydia had no intention of keeping her promise.
Chapter XIV
Considering the expected arrival of Lady Catherine and her daughter that day, Darcy decided a morning ride would be just the thing to prepare himself to endure his aunt. Thus, he had his mount ready and was in the saddle early, eager to escape for a time.
As the fields and hills of Pemberley flew past the speeding mount, Darcy considered what Lady Catherine’s arrival meant for the family. Though she was family, the woman was difficult to bear, being both dictatorial and insistent on her favorite wish being gratified. Had Darcy been at all of a mind to grant her wish, she still would not have seen its successful completion, for Anne was as little inclined to marry Darcy as the reverse.
Lady Catherine, however, could not see this. While she did not speak of the matter to the exclusion of all other subjects, her conversation was directed thither more often than Darcy might wish, a circumstance which made her society intolerable. It was Darcy’s great relief that his father still lived and had never been inclined to bow to Lady Catherine’s demands, for Darcy could not imagine what she would be like if his father, instead of his mother, had passed on!
Darcy enjoyed riding and indulged often, for he found himself soothed by the pounding of the horse’s hooves on the turf, the feel of the wind rushing through his hair. The air that morning was a littl
e brisk, made colder with the quick movement of man and beast, and soon Darcy felt his cheeks becoming cold and his ears lose feeling. But he pressed on, enjoying the ride otherwise.
Though Darcy traveled with no specific destination in mind, he rode the boundaries of Pemberley, looking down on the valley below through the trees, wondering at the beauty of his family estate. At one point he came close to the border with the road that led to Lambton, but being in no mood to encounter anyone, he skirted the village and continued on.
Then he steered his mount into the little meadow in the triangle near the borders of Longbourn and Netherfield. Miss Elizabeth Bennet was not there.
With a sigh, Darcy turned his horse away and pointed him back toward Pemberley in the distance, trying to understand why he was so disappointed he was not to see her that day. Had he not determined it was best to avoid the woman, to submit to his father’s edict and not tempt fate? Darcy did not know what to think of the sudden longing which welled up within him to see Miss Elizabeth again. Was he beginning to fall in love with the temptress?
Darcy could not be certain. Thoughts of the woman warmed him and he often considered her when least expected, marveling over her perfections, or recalling some bit of conversation they had exchanged. Never having considered himself a romantic man, Darcy could not quite determine how he felt about being lost to a woman’s power. What he did know was that it would be exquisite torture to lose his heart to the young woman, for he did not know how his love could ever be expressed, let alone returned. It was just as well he had not come across her, for no good could come of continuing to meet her. At least, that was what Darcy told himself.
At length, his mount hanging its head in weariness, Darcy walked into the yard at Pemberley, making his way toward the stables, feeling as worn out as his trusty horse. His exhaustion was as much because of the thoughts swirling about in his head as it was the exertions of the morning. There he met Fitzwilliam, who had just come out of the house.
“Ho, Darcy!” called he in greeting. “I see you have returned. Was there estate business to attend to this morning?”
“Nothing of note,” replied Darcy.
He dismounted and led the weary animal into the building, noting as it began to pick up at the smell of oats and hay which permeated the stables. No doubt the stallion would appreciate a hint of water to go along with the expected sustenance.
“It seems you have ridden your mount hard,” observed Fitzwilliam. “Are you attempting to escape from something, or did your horse slip your control?”
“Do you not enjoy an occasional gallop yourself?” asked Darcy.
Fitzwilliam regarded him for a moment before saying: “Yes, I do. But it seems to me you have been a little . . . I am not sure, to be honest, but a little off of late. Has something been affecting you?”
“Nothing in particular,” said Darcy, though the sight of a beautiful young woman with laughing eyes rose in his mind. To cover this, Darcy continued about his tasks, rubbing his mount down with wool. “You need not have any concern for me, Fitzwilliam. I am well.”
“I have noted my brother riding often since my return to Pemberley,” came the voice of Alexander. Darcy looked up to see his brother standing by the stall’s entrance, leaning against the jam, looking at them with amusement.
“It is nothing more than my usual habit,” replied Darcy, hoping to keep a defensive note from his voice. “When have you ever known me to remain sedentary in the house when I may be out of doors?”
“That is true,” said Alexander, his manner showing he had not much interest in the subject.
Completing his tasks, Darcy turned and exited the stall, pulling his brother and cousin along with him. What they were doing there, or whether they had been waiting for him he could not say, but Darcy ignored it for the moment. If he did not comment further, perhaps they would forget the matter altogether.
“You know,” said Fitzwilliam as they walked, “I have not seen Bingley about since I came. That is odd, for he is always nearby.”
“When you put it that way,” said Alexander with a snicker, “you make him sound like a puppy.”
Fitzwilliam snorted. “That is not a bad description, but I mean no such thing. Darcy has always been close to him, so it surprises me I have not seen him since I arrived.”
“That would be because Bingley has committed great treachery!” said Alexander, a hint of the dramatic in his tone. Darcy scowled at his brother, but Alexander paid no notice, not that he had expected he would.
“Betrayal?” asked Fitzwilliam, apparently catching Alexander’s tone and grinning in response to the joke. “In what way has Darcy’s most loyal follower betrayed him?”
Taking the steps to the manor two at a time, Darcy attempted to leave his tormentors behind. It was all in vain, however, as they simply followed him, and from thence to the grand staircase and up to his room where it was his intention to change.
“It seems our Bingley has grown a backbone and defied William by paying attention to Miss Jane Bennet.”
Fitzwilliam whistled low and said: “That is serious, indeed. Good for Bingley! I never would have thought he had it in him!”
“I only hope he does not regret his experience,” grunted Darcy as he ducked into his room, hoping his companions would not follow him. It was a vain hope, for they were hard on his heels.
“Regret?” echoed Fitzwilliam. “Though I will own to not knowing the Bennet family well, I seem to recall Miss Jane Bennet is a lovely young lady and kind to everyone she meets. You do not suppose she would stoop to hurting Bingley, do you?”
“William believes she has drawn him in,” supplied Alexander.
“That is a bag of moonshine! What motive could the daughter of a baron have for drawing in a man of Bingley’s social background? The Bingleys are new money, however you look at it, and a decided step down for Miss Bennet. Unless there is some issue with insolvency.”
“None of which I am aware,” replied Alexander.
“Nor would I have expected any such difficulty,” said Fitzwilliam. “Lord Arundel is a scholarly man, one not given to gaming or the like, and his son is but ten years of age. While it is possible some investment might have failed, leaving financial difficulties, the Bennets still possess Longbourn, which appears to be a profitable estate. Thus, the only reason Miss Bennet would encourage Bingley is for pure inclination.”
The way Fitzwilliam regarded him Darcy knew it demanded a response. As Snell, his valet, pulled Darcy’s jacket from his shoulders and untied his cravat, Darcy gave his cousin a grudging nod.
“Yes, that is the truth, Fitzwilliam. The baron is experiencing no difficulties of which I am aware, and Bingley is besotted with Miss Bennet.”
“Then you can have nothing to say on the matter.”
“I have nothing to say on the matter,” Darcy replied, his response shorter than he had intended. “But it does not follow that I must approve.” Darcy’s own interest in Miss Bennet’s younger sister gave the lie to this assertion, though he attempted to tamp down on his thoughts.
“No, I suppose it does not,” replied Fitzwilliam. “But I would remind you of this, Darcy: Bingley has been a good friend of yours for many years now. It would be foolish of you to throw away that friendship because of this silly dispute with the Bennet family.”
Fitzwilliam turned and departed, and after a moment, upon giving him a significant look, Alexander did likewise. Darcy knew they were correct, for even if he did not possess these confusing feelings for Miss Elizabeth, what was it to him who Bingley courted and married? This dispute with the Bennets was coloring everything the Darcy family said or did, and the opinion it should cease was growing in Darcy’s heart every day.
When Darcy descended the stairs, his thoughts still consumed by the situation with Bingley, he discovered a most unwelcome visitor, one who could often be found at Pemberley of late.
“Good morning, Mr. Darcy. How wonderful it is to see you this morning.”
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br /> Miss Bingley, who had spoken, looked on him with shining eyes full of yearning, and for a moment Darcy wondered if this was what a side of beef felt like when watched by a pack of hungry dogs. Georgiana, who had been sitting with Miss Bingley, rolled her eyes, while Alexander and Fitzwilliam grinned at him.
“Yes, Darcy,” said Fitzwilliam with a wide smirk. “Miss Bingley is visiting this morning. Is it not wonderful to see her here today?”
The beaming smile with which Miss Bingley regarded him suggested she had not caught the hint of irony or the note of mocking in Fitzwilliam’s tone. Then again, the woman was adept at seeing and hearing that which she wished to see and hear, so it was not at all surprising. Knowing it would be a long visit, Darcy greeted Miss Bingley and situated himself as far away from her as he could and remain polite.
It was no more than five minutes later when the sound of voices interrupted their visit. Then the elder Darcy led Lady Catherine and Anne into the room, prompting those within to stand. Darcy had not counted on the early arrival of his family, but the thought struck him that exchanging Miss Bingley’s company for Lady Catherine’s was akin to escaping Scylla, only to run afoul of Charybdis.
“Lady Catherine,” said Darcy, serving as spokesman for them all. “It is a surprise to see you; we were not expecting you until late this afternoon.”
“Fitzwilliam,” said Lady Catherine—she was the only member of the family who never called him by the diminutive of his name, instead preferring to use his full name. “Anne and I made good time yesterday and stopped in Derby. From thence it was a short ride to Pemberley.”
“It is a short journey, indeed, from Derby. Welcome to Pemberley.”
The family members long sundered exchanged greetings—the Darcys had not been in the de Bourghs’ company since the previous Easter. While this was going on, Miss Bingley was watching the scene, eager to make the newcomers’ acquaintance.
“I see you have a visitor this morning,” said Lady Catherine, eying Miss Bingley. The woman puffed herself in pride at being noticed, and even more so when Lady Catherine requested an introduction, to which Georgiana did the honors.
