by Jann Rowland
By the time they arrived back at the estate, all three were cold and miserable, as the rain had thickened to a steady fall once again. The worst part of it, in Darcy’s estimation, was the way it prevented him from meeting with Elizabeth again. The situation at Longbourn would be similar to what Pemberley was experiencing, which meant there would be similar inspections happening there. It all led to the inescapable fact that Elizabeth would find it more difficult to slip away from her family undetected.
Not for the first time, Darcy wondered if they would be best served to steal away and elope. Gretna Green was not so very far away—should they depart with no one the wiser, no one could stop them before they reached their destination.
The dutiful son in Darcy, however, would not allow such actions, for his father needed his help. But when the situation allowed it, Darcy was determined to allow nothing to separate them.
Chapter XXIV
For days while the rain continued to fall, the Bennet family found themselves confined to the estate. For Elizabeth, her inability to meet with William was hard, though she succeeded in convincing everyone in her family her discontent resulted from being denied the outdoors.
“Do not concern yourself, Lizzy,” said Lady Margaret when she noted her daughter wandering the room on the fourth day of her captivity. “The rain will end soon, and when it does, I am certain you will once again be traipsing and riding all over the countryside.”
Elizabeth gave her mother a slight smile. “Do not concern yourself for me, Mama. This is not the first time circumstances have denied me the outdoors, and it shall not be the last.”
With a nod, Lady Margaret went back to her needlework, emulating her eldest daughter. Jane fixed Elizabeth with a grin before she too looked away, leaving Elizabeth to her restlessness. Her mind was miles away, focused on whatever room William inhabited at Pemberley, a place she had never laid eyes upon.
Of surprise to Elizabeth was Lydia’s behavior, for her youngest sister appeared as restive as Elizabeth felt herself. Lydia, though not a sedentary girl, had never shown a similar interest in nature, but the girl fidgeted even more than Elizabeth.
“What is it, Lydia?” asked Elizabeth later that day. “I have never known a little rain to bother you.”
“It is not a little rain,” replied Lydia with a scowl. “Can we not have one day of sunshine, or are we to forever be subjected to this dull weather? I long to go into Lambton, to get out of this dreary house for a time. I have half a mind to order the carriage now and brave the weather if it will remove me from this place.”
“The carriage is not available for your use,” interjected Lord Arundel. “I will not subject our drivers or footmen to a deluge to satisfy your wanderlust, Lydia—do not even ask.”
With a scowl and a pout, Lydia replied: “I would not require it of them, Papa. It is just so boring that I long to be free!”
“That is understandable, Lydia. No inclement weather can last forever—you must be patient.”
Though Elizabeth could not know of the exact situation at Pemberley, it was no stretch to guess it was like that at Longbourn. Though different rivers ran through their lands, Elizabeth could not imagine the rain was not as much a concern to the master of Pemberley as it was to her father. There were no incidents among Longbourn’s tenants, but the situation of the weather worried them all, and Elizabeth overheard her father speaking with his steward on the matter more than once.
When the rain ceased at last and the sun climbed out from behind the massive clouds the next day, the family all breathed a sigh of relief. The landscape was still sodden and would be for some days, but at least the windows now admitted a hint of cheery light, and while the sun hung weak and pale in the sky, it was better than no sun at all. That was when the other member of the family who had spent too long indoors began to make his opinion known to them all.
“Can we not go on a picnic again, Lizzy?” asked Thomas. “Would you not like to feel the sun on your face?”
“I would appreciate it very much,” replied Elizabeth. “But the ground is yet too wet for such activities. We had best wait until it dries.”
The boy released such a put-upon sigh that Elizabeth could not help but laugh. “If we cannot picnic today, perhaps we could, instead, go to Lambton for a time.”
“And visit the sweet shop?” asked Thomas, his sudden excitement showing his eagerness.
“Your penchant for sweets far exceeds what is good for you,” observed their mother.
Thomas directed a pout at his mother and moped, but when Elizabeth caught her eyes, Lady Margaret winked at her. Then she turned back to her son.
“Well, I suppose this one time might be acceptable.”
With a whoop, Thomas threw himself into his mother’s arms. “But let this not be a habit,” she warned, “for I think you sneak more sweets from the kitchen than you require.”
“Yes, Mama,” said Thomas, a serious promise Elizabeth knew he would forget the moment it was convenient.
The rest of the sisters were also eager to escape the house—other than Mary, who instead went outside to walk along the paths of the back gardens with Mr. Collins. When they applied to Lord Arundel, he only waved them away, his mind on other matters. As there would be no danger for the drivers in the cool but dry air, they ordered the carriage and were soon off.
The visit to Lambton was more eventful than any of them had a right to expect. The first stop was the confectioners where Elizabeth purchased the promise sugar stick for Thomas, which he eagerly accepted along with the admonishment to avoid getting himself all sticky. Then the party separated their own ways to visit those locations which appealed to them. Thomas went along with Kitty, who wished to purchase some sheet music for the pianoforte, and though Elizabeth thought to accompany them to the bookshop, she never reached it.
“Elizabeth!” a hissed voice caught her attention.
Seeing the tall form of Mr. Darcy between two of the shops, Elizabeth looked about, and seeing no one in the immediate vicinity, darted into the dim space there. It was, indeed, Mr. Darcy, and it appeared to her the man was as relieved to see her as she was him.
“How are you, Elizabeth?” asked he. His hand rose of its own accord, though he stopped it and rested it at his side again, though he had been about to touch her face. Though Elizabeth longed for his touch, she knew anyone could come upon them at any moment—seeing him at all was taking a large risk, one which would be made immeasurably worse should someone discover them in an embrace, or even just touching.
“Annoyed with all this rain and desperate to see you,” replied Elizabeth.
The man gave her a beaming smile. “Then we are of like mind, dearest Elizabeth. I might have braved all the rain in the world, had I thought I had an opportunity to see you.”
The words filled Elizabeth with contentment, but at the same time with concern, for they evoked the memory of what had happened the last time she had seen him. With a quick glance at the alley’s entrance, Elizabeth, satisfied they would not be interrupted for at least a few more moments, turned back to the man she loved.
“There may be a problem, for my uncle came upon me after we last met.”
William frowned. “He did not see you leaving the meadow, did he? Unless he was in the trees watching us, he could not have seen me.”
“No, he found me as I was returning to Longbourn, some time after I left you.”
Elizabeth proceeded to inform William of her discussion with her uncle, including her impressions of his feelings. Uncle Gardiner becoming ever more watchful over his nieces would make it much more difficult for her to meet with William. It was clear in his expression as he listened to her that he understood the challenge himself.
“Elizabeth,” said he, stepping forward and catching her hands in his own, heedless of how someone might find them, “the situation is becoming untenable. That I am disobeying my father’s express wishes weighs on me, and I cannot look upon my behavior with satisfaction. I am
certain your father has given you similar instructions.”
“Yes, he has,” replied Elizabeth, her heart filling with trepidation, thinking he was building up to informing her they should not meet again.
“It is my belief,” continued William, “that it would be best if we announced our engagement to our families.”
Gasping, Elizabeth stared at him. “How will that make the situation any better?” asked she. “Can you imagine either of our fathers would allow us to see each other again?”
“I have no answers,” said William. “But the situation cannot be any worse. If we announce our engagement, that will at least allow us to deal with our fathers with honesty. Perhaps it might also lead to reconciliation.”
“I can see no result other than our fathers being angry with us,” replied Elizabeth. “What if they do as I fear and forbid us to see each other again?”
“Then we decide what to do should that come to pass.”
“I . . . I do not know, William,” replied Elizabeth.
The moment was lost when the sound of a commotion not far from their alley reached their ears. When the voices, loud enough for Elizabeth to identify as those of Mr. Gardiner and Lydia told them something was amiss, they looked at each other and hurried from their place of concealment.
“Lydia!”
Alexander Darcy ducked behind a carriage stopped in front of the mercantile, noting the coachman watching him with some curiosity. The man was of no consequence, however, and Alexander ignored him, focused on the young woman he had seen walking down the street.
Seeing when she stopped and turned to look in his direction, Alexander cast a quick glance about, and noting no one nearby, he stepped forward. Miss Lydia was watching him, the half-smirk she often wore adorning her face. Alexander grinned. Her spirit and sense of adventure was the attribute he liked most in her.
“Calling me in the middle of a street in Lambton, Mr. Darcy,” said she, her voice colored with a hint of playful teasing. She made a clucking sound with her tongue. “You are incorrigible, sir, for should our relations discover us in such circumstances, the tumult will be dreadful.”
Another glance about revealed no one, so Alexander fixed his attention upon the young woman. “We should be safe for a moment or two. Have you considered my suggestion from the last time we met?”
Miss Lydia did not reply at once. When she did, it was with a hint of hesitance. “That is a wide chasm to leap, sir.”
“Are there any other choices that you can see?” asked Alexander. “This incessant fighting between our families will never allow us the freedom to do otherwise.”
“I think,” said Lydia, “that a little time will improve matters. If it does not, we can consider the situation further at a later time.”
“Lydia,” said Alexander, stepping close to her. “I tire of this clandestine manner of our meetings, and I know you do too. This disagreement between our families has been ongoing for many years now—how can you say that it will improve in a manner of weeks? Our stratagem at the ball was an abject failure; I can see no way forward except that which I proposed.”
“We have time,” said Lydia, though he could see she was wavering. “I am not yet seventeen.”
“Yes, I am well aware of your age. As I told you before, I care little for it. “If your father will not give his blessing, I am prepared to do what I must to ensure I have you in my life.”
For a moment, Lydia regarded him, though saying nothing, and Alexander thought she might agree with him. The moment passed, however, lost as a loud voice interrupted their interlude, prompting Alexander to spin around to confront the owner of the voice.
“Lydia, what are you doing?”
It was Mr. Gardiner, Lydia’s uncle. Alexander winced—there was no worse time for the man’s interruption than the present. He had been so close.
“Nothing, Uncle,” said Lydia, stepping in front of Alexander to confront her irate uncle. “Upon my word, I think this silly feud has begun to addle the wits of all caught under its spell. I am in the middle of a busy street—how can you think I will come to harm in such circumstances I cannot imagine!”
“That is enough from you, Lydia,” commanded Mr. Gardiner. He grasped her arm in a gentle but firm grip and pulled her toward him, moving forward himself to take her place and confront Alexander.
“It seems to me, young Mr. Darcy, that you have a fascination for my youngest niece. That you are often in her company is contrary to her father’s decree, and—I might add—what I suspect your father has also instructed. What do you have to say for yourself?”
“Uncle—” Lydia tried again, but a severe look from her uncle silenced her, though Alexander could see she was not pleased.
Then Mr. Gardiner’s hard gaze once again rested on him, and for one of the few times in his life, Alexander Darcy did not know what to say. How could he explain to this man the regard which had been building in him for the youngest Bennet? If Alexander made any mention of their frequent meetings of late, the situation would become so difficult he doubted he would see her again.
“It seems your glib tongue has deserted you, sir.”
“I mean no harm to your niece, Mr. Gardiner,” said Alexander.
As he might have expected, his protest did not sway the other man in the slightest. “And yet it seems you are harming her—or her reputation at least.”
“How can I be harming her reputation?” asked Alexander with a snort, his voice returning to him. “Men and women speak on the street many times. There is nothing improper about it.”
Mr. Gardiner’s eyes burned, and when he spoke, his voice was akin to gravel rolling down a hill. “It seems you do not understand, so let me enlighten you. Lydia is sixteen, and she is not formally out in society. Furthermore, you are a Darcy and she a Bennet, and the relative situation between your two families is such that you should not be speaking to her for any reason!”
“Mr. Gardiner—”
“Silence!” roared the man.
Though Alexander felt the force of Mr. Gardiner’s glare upon him, consuming most of his attention, he possessed enough presence of mind to note his brother hurrying toward them with Miss Elizabeth following some distance behind. William’s presence was a boon, for his calm ability to control any situation would be welcome at present. It was a skill that Alexander had never owned himself.
“I will hear no more, Mr. Darcy,” growled Mr. Gardiner. “My brother has made it clear his children are not to have any congress with your family. Even if you have no care for your father’s decrees, I would ask you to respect the instructions the baron has given to his daughters. Do not approach them again!”
“Let us speak of this rationally, Mr. Gardiner,” said William as he strode to them and inserted himself between. “I am certain there is no reason to make a scene in the middle of the street.”
“No, there you are correct, Mr. Darcy.” Mr. Gardiner turned and began to shepherd his nieces, including two more who had arrived in the interim, away. “Talk some sense into your brother, sir, for this continued disobedience is straining matters between our families.”
Then Mr. Gardiner turned and a moment later, the Bennets had disappeared. William watched them, then he turned around to regard Alexander. But Alexander was not about to stay and listen to his brother’s lecture.
“I do not wish to hear it, Brother,” hissed he.
Then he turned and stalked away, making his way toward his horse. Swinging himself into the saddle, he kicked his mount into motion and made his way out of town. As soon as he reached the outskirts of Lambton, Alexander kicked his horse into a gallop, hoping to relieve some of the excess energy and stress. Curse this stupid situation with the Bennet family!
When the Bennet carriage carrying the siblings began to roll out of town, Anne de Bourgh stepped toward the gentleman who stood watching it leave, deep in thought. As a newcomer, though one who was connected to one of the combatant parties, Anne thought she was in a perfect pos
ition to offer her own thoughts on the situation. If only Mr. Gardiner was of a mind to listen.
“It seems there has been more excitement between our families, sir.”
So caught up in his thoughts was Mr. Gardiner that he jumped at Anne’s words. When he noticed her, however, his reaction was not what she might have expected, given the implacable determination with which he had just castigated Anne’s cousin. Then again, given how he had spoken with her at the ball, Anne did not expect he would act the brute with her.
“Once again centered on the same players, Miss de Bourgh,” said he, his eyes turning to once again follow the progress of his niece’s carriage leaving town. “Given this latest incident, I wonder if there is something else happening between your cousin and my niece.”
“And this is a matter of concern?”
The man’s hard gaze fell on Anne, though she was not at all put off by his ire. “If the memory of the situation between the two families is not enough to render any contact between them unwise, I would remind you of Lydia’s youth. She is but sixteen years of age, Miss de Bourgh.”
“Yes, that is a concern,” agreed Anne. “However, I do not think they could come to mischief on a street in Lambton.”
“It is not Lambton that concerns me,” replied Mr. Gardiner. “As I said, I wonder if they are better known to each other than any of us knows. There is also your cousin’s reputation to consider.”
“Alexander is not the blackguard you make him out to be,” said Anne. Though she supposed she might have felt the insult of his words concerning her cousin, in reality, Anne knew it was Alexander’s own fault. His own behavior had made others mistrust him, so he could not complain now. While Alexander had sometimes been uncaring, cavalier, and prone to behavior which was not laudable, however, he was not a man so depraved as to trifle with a young woman’s heart—particularly a young woman who was the daughter of a peer.
“You have my apologies if you believe I consider your cousin in such a light, Miss de Bourgh,” said Mr. Gardiner with a short bow. “It was never my intention to say anything of him which is unwarranted.”
