by Beth Massey
Elizabeth turned from the portrait and realized Mrs Reynolds and her aunt and uncle had left her behind. So deep in thought and raw emotions had she been that she had no inkling which direction they had gone. Near to his portrait were some stairs and because she remembered they had climbed some to reach the gallery she decided this must have been their exit. She started down and heard voices drifting up from below. They were not those of her aunt, uncle or Mrs Reynolds or even of refined persons.
“Mrs R. told me to ready four of the quest rooms. She said the master and Miss Darcy will be returning tomorrow with a large party.”
“Did she say for how long?”
“No, but something she said makes me think the party is his friend Mr Bingley and his sisters. The married one is tolerable, but oh, the unmarried one is a right royal pain in the arse. Such a picky one she is.”
“Do you think he’s gonna marry her?
“Ooh, Peg my girl, I hope not. What a disaster that would be. He never paid her much mind in the past.” The woman lowered her voice in a conspiratorial whisper. “Still, now that he has a mistress, things might be different.”
“Who do ya think his bit on the side be?”
“All I know is that before he left for London he never slept in his bed. James said he would pick at his dinner and then leave and stay out all night. Why would a man do that unless he was spending time rubbing up against a female?” After a pause and the sounds of mopping, she continued. “I have questioned friends in Lambton and some in service on other estates and no one knows nothing. I think he must have created a love nest for her somewhere very private like.”
The younger of the two voices giggled and said, “Molly, do you think he took her with him to London—in case he got the urge?”
The older one replied with a lascivious laugh. “Mayhap he did. Now that he has someone he enjoys poking, and who obviously does not insist on being shackled to him, he might be more inclined to take a wife. Lord help me for saying this, but that Miss Bingley would be a wise choice if that be the case. She would be so pleased with catching him that she wouldn’t care what else he got up to.”
Another burst of raucous laughter erupted as Molly emphasized the word ‘up.’ Elizabeth felt propriety dictated she should turn away and head back up the stairs, but though her head was spinning, she could not force herself to leave.
The young voice contributed, “Since I came to work here, everyone has always gone on and on about how the master wanted to marry for love… and how much he despised spending time with the quality folk in Town. Phillips told me all them women and their mamas only wanted him for Pemberley, and Mr Darcy hated that. The stories I heard made me hope he would find his one true love.”
“Hmmph, what rubbish these quality folk fret about—and you’re just a foolish girl. The master just needs to find someone from his own set and start making an heir. He doesn’t have to enjoy it as long as he has someone who loves him on the side, what does it matter what his wife is like?” Again there was a pause before anything was added to the conversation. “We would be the ones to suffer if he married a harpy. I would prefer his sickly cousin, she never demands much.”
During the pause Elizabeth became ashamed of her eavesdropping. She turned very quietly to leave. Just as she was about to walk back up, her flight was arrested by a cackle.
“What if her mother decided to live with them? That would be even worse than Miss Bingley. I hope he does not waste all his time with some skirt. It is time for him to do his duty. He can have all the mistresses he wants.” Again ribald laughter floated up the stairs. “He can have one for each of the ways men such as him like it—once he is married.” This was followed by sounds of gesturing and gasps from her audience.
“Oh my, they don’t really like to shove it up there do they? I think that might hurt.”
“True. Most wives object to anything but what will get them with child, which is why lusty men like our master take a piece on the side.”
Those words hit Elizabeth with an unimaginable force. Though spared seeing his disapproval had he caught her impudently roaming the halls of Pemberley, she knew it could hardly have been as distressing as learning he had found someone else he could ‘ardently love.’ And, he could enjoy this one without submitting to a lifelong degradation. Was that what he had wanted from her and she had unwittingly persuaded him that only marriage was possible? Or had he quickly determined she would make a complacent wife, who because of her barely tolerable looks and lowly connections would not question his dalliances? How many different ways were there to like it? She knew so little about the ways of great men. It seemed he was as she thought at the time they met… no gentleman.
As quietly as possible, Elizabeth retraced her steps up the staircase. The painted smile of his portrait momentarily stopped her. How silly to believe she might have remained special in his admiration. This time her glimpse of the eyes, she had imagined were only for her, released the tears she had held at bay before. She willed her legs to move in the opposite direction from the steps she had started down previously. At the end of the long corridor she found the stairs they had climbed to reach the gallery. Rushing down them, she found her way to the entrance hall. A footman opened the front door for her and she hurtled forward never slowing until she was at the stream.
That Mr Darcy would take a mistress was so at odds with her most recent estimation. He had always acted so proper and disapproving of other’s moral lapses. After reading his letter, she had been persuaded that honour was paramount in importance to his character. However, she did not have direct evidence of him never engaging in such actions; but his condemnation of Lydia and Kitty for their forwardness toward the officers suggested he was above reproach himself. Anger was threatening to replace her tears. He must only demand the strictest standards from those beneath him. He was indeed that arrogant man, filled with pride and disdain for those not of his circle, she had always believed him to be.
She hurried along a path close to the stream, and soon came to the bridge they had crossed upon arrival. Once over the rustic span, she proceeded toward a wide avenue with woods on either side. In the far distance, she could now determine what the structure was she had seen from the house. It was a Grecian Temple that looked remarkably like the one at Rosings where he had proposed. The artifice of the temple was at odds with Pemberley’s natural surroundings. The jarring image of the building pulled her inexplicably toward it. About halfway there it began to pour. Despite being soaked within minutes, she continued to run toward the structure instead of taking refuge among the canopy of the trees.
.
2
FIGHTING IN THE RAIN
In anticipation of spending one last night in his secret place, Fitzwilliam Darcy travelled ahead of his party. Once his company and sister arrived tomorrow, it would be unseemly and promote unwanted gossip if he left to sleep elsewhere.
Her rejection had plunged him into misery. Ironically, the solace of the cottage he had created for her had given him a place far from any distractions to think. It was there he revised his plan for happiness. This house party was the first step. Tomorrow, he would confess his treachery to Bingley; but tonight he needed comfort.
His friend’s amiability and continued strong feelings for Miss Bennet should allow him to forgive and continue his pursuit—particularly when he heard of Miss Elizabeth’s certainty that her sister admired him. Once that was out of the way, he and his friend should be on the road to Hertfordshire within a fortnight. Darcy laughed as he remembered Belly’s merciless tirade on the occasion of her advising him. But it was with shame that he recalled one particular admonition, ‘You must inform Charles that Miss Bennet came to town and his sisters kept that knowledge from him. Do not fail to confess that you knew of their deceit and did nothing.’ Besides, by now his long time confidante had certainly already told Susan, and she was entirely too loquacious not to tell her ‘Charlie.’ Darcy knew that his best friend’s love for Miss B
ennet had not kept him from regularly spending the night with his Yorkshire friend. He shook his head in regret, as he acknowledged he should have told Bingley the truth last winter. Isabel had rightly chastised him for being so consumed with the project to win his heart’s delight that he had not given a moment’s thought to other’s happiness.
The threatening sky looked ready to burst. He urged his horse into a full gallop and prayed he could arrive at Pemberley in time to be spared a soaking. The rain began just as he crossed the bridge. In the distance, he could see Jeffries looking out over the grassy avenue. He seemed to be trying to locate something.
Darcy arrived and handed off his horse to a groom. Bounding up the stairs to where his footman stood he looked to the man clad in a coat, a broad brimmed hat and a worried look. He greeted his master and stated, “There is a distraught young woman loose on the grounds. She ran out of the house about twenty minutes ago. I was watching her progress down the lawn toward the folly, but now I no longer see her.”
“Who is she?”
Mr Jeffries looked anxious as he began his explanation. “She was touring the house with a fashionable couple from London. They are in the hall. When I entered the house to get some protection from the rain, I spoke with them and Mrs Reynolds. It was a mistake to go inside, Sir, because now I am unable to see her. She must have ducked into the woods to protect herself from the rain—but I did not see which side.” The footman’s face registered fear. “Mr Darcy I am afraid someone hurt her when she was inside the house. She was crying and mumbling to herself about someone. Mrs R asked me to assemble a search party.”
“Wait for the search until I talk to her relatives, and have a fresh horse brought to me so I can take part.”
Darcy had a premonition that he was somehow involved in this strange occurrence, and he felt the need to keep the details known by as few people as possible. Jeffries was correct. Mrs Reynolds and a fashionable couple, a few years older than himself, were in the hall. All three looked distraught, and his housekeeper registered surprise when she saw him; but her expression quickly changed to relief. He doubted that dealing with runaway young ladies had ever before been part of her duties when giving tours of Pemberley.
“Mr Darcy, you are a day early. I must admit, given the circumstances, I have rarely been so pleased to see you.” She turned to the couple and said, “This is Mr and Mrs Gardiner. They had been touring the house with their niece. She became separated from us, and now we have heard from Jeffries that she left the house in an agitated state. The storm has given us cause for concern.” Mrs Reynolds looked pointedly at her master. “She told me the two of you had met previously.”
Mr Darcy sighed inwardly as he realized his premonition had come to fruition. The fear he had been holding back gripped him. “When and where did I meet her?”
Mr Gardiner spoke. He was both polite and polished in his speech. He neither presumed too much nor seemed intimidated by the owner of this great estate. “My niece, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, met you last autumn in Hertfordshire. She was hesitant about touring your property because of your prior acquaintance. Her fear was that you would think it presumptuous, but once told you were not at home; we were able to persuade her to see the splendours of your beautiful estate. Please accept our apologies for her behaviour. She is not usually so impetuous, and I have never known her to be rude.” He paused momentarily, his eyes searching Mr Darcy’s. “Something must have affected her adversely for her to rush off without communicating with Mrs Reynolds or us. Mrs Gardiner and I assure you she is usually the model of proper behaviour. We are worried she may have taken ill.”
Mr Darcy worked hard to ensure his face did not display the turbulent feelings engulfing him at the moment. So these were her Cheapside relatives. Arrogance had prevented him from judging her family based on actual knowledge, but he was struck by how prophetic were the words about that neighbourhood he had recently penned in a dedication to Paradise Lost. Mr Gardiner had perfect manners and was well spoken. He was wrong, however, thinking his niece not to be impetuous—or incapable of being rude. Memories of her angry words caused a flicker of a smile at the corners of his mouth.
“Yes, yes, I remember Miss Bennet, and will put a search party in place to find her. Jeffries saw her walking down the avenue between the woods. She probably took refuge under the trees. Within a very short time, I will have a team in place searching the woods.”
Mrs Gardiner now spoke. “Thank you, Mr Darcy. You do credit to the reputation you have earned here in Derbyshire. All of my friends and acquaintances in this area speak very highly of you.”
“You know the area, Mrs Gardiner?”
“Yes I grew up in Lambton. I met your mother once when she came into my father’s haberdashery. She was a beautiful, elegant and gracious woman.”
“Thank you for the compliment to my mother. She was, indeed, all that you say. You are Mr Davies’ daughter?”
“I am.”
“Mrs Gardiner, never fear, we will find your niece. I will have my staff organize a thorough search of the grounds, and she will be back with you, I am sure within several hours time… sooner if the storm relents.” He pulled out his watch and looked at the time. “We have more than six hours before dark. Mrs Reynolds make certain our guests are comfortable while they wait. If the rooms for Mr and Mrs Hurst are prepared, perhaps they could rest there while I try to locate Miss Bennet.”
Mr Darcy bowed and returned outside to Jeffries, who had his horse waiting. He did not want to be part of the search party. He hoped to find her and at least have a few moments alone before they were once again forced to separate. His plan had not included making his confession to her so soon, but he knew the circumstances dictated his course. He owed her the truth.
“Jeffries, please send out about four men from the stables. Have two search the woods on the right of the avenue and two search on the left. I am going to ride to the temple, and see if she took refuge there.”
“I do not think she would have been able to make it there quickly enough. We would have still been able to see her when you arrived. She was only halfway there when I went inside to get something to protect me from the rain.”
Mr Darcy nodded that perhaps Jeffries was right; but because of their history he was drawn to the structure. It was his hope she might have been also—whether that was good or bad, he was not certain. Besides, he had observed her clandestinely at Rosings and knew just how fast she could run. This bit of intelligence he withheld from the footman. “I will join the search on the right hand side of the lawn once I have eliminated the structure as a possibility.”
Within minutes of leaving Jeffries, he neared the temple and saw her looking much as she had when he proposed—soaked, her sodden bonnet removed to reveal hair plastered to her head. Despite her bedraggled appearance, she was so very appealing—her thin summer frock clung deliciously to her curves and there was that same fire in her eyes as there had been at Rosings. He forced his mind from those delights in deference to other things. First, he must determine what had caused her anguish—first tears and now rage. Though the timeline was much earlier than was called for in his original scheme, he hoped this visit was proof she might be having second thoughts and he could renew his offer, but her angry glare made him dubious.
His body’s reaction to seeing her was disconcerting to say the least, and he determined it prudent to remain on his horse for the next few minutes. The dawning realization that no matter how erotic her burning glare and clinging gown were, he had things to determine before he could proceed. Despite his candid letter, she still obviously harboured resentment toward him. Concentrating on that cooled his ardour. Was it his interference between Bingley and her sister or his demeaning words about her family that had not diminished in the previous months? Please let it not still be because of Wickham.
In a further attempt to calm his aroused sensibilities, he forced himself to think of other meanings of the image she presented to him. With her head tilt
ed and her hair hanging limp, she reminded him of the poor put-upon virgins painted by Hieronymus Bosch in The Garden of Earthly Delights. He had spent hours contemplating all the tortures for sinful behaviour the artist had envisioned. Perhaps, it was not the right time to propose for a second time.
He should take her back to the house, but he needed to talk to her first and understand what had happened. Jeffries had said she was agitated as she left and appeared to be crying. What had caused tears to convert to wrath? Now, she stood as he had seen her several times before in a defiant pose, one hand on her hip.
“Mr Darcy, please go away. I need to be alone. For once, be a gentleman and allow me some dignity. As soon as it stops raining, I will walk back to my aunt and uncle. I promise not to hurt your precious property, and furthermore I will insist we leave immediately so none on your staff will see the six inches of mud on my petticoat.”
Darcy resented her ‘gentleman’ remark, but within seconds he was struggling to suppress a smile as she mentioned mud on her petticoat. Perhaps, he should defer determining what caused her first to cry and then to become irate. He must think of something to persuade her to ride back with him despite the unseemly nature of that activity. Surely, her aunt and uncle could forgive a ride with him under the circumstances. The thought of her in such close proximity threatened to touch off a stirring in his pants again. Just as during his proposal, when she had railed at him for not treating her in a gentlemanlike manner—his most fervent desire had been then, and was now, to crush her in his arms and punish her for those words with kisses.
Her next outburst unleashed frustration in him. “Please ride back and tell them I am safe. I apologize for touring Pemberley. Mr Darcy, this is just another in a series of disasters that has characterized every interaction we have ever had.”
His anxiety grew when he noticed she was shivering and her lips had a bluish tinge. To everything else he must now add fear for her health. Getting her back to the house and out of her wet clothes became his priority. He would never forgive himself if she became sick. The smattering of ire he felt toward her for her obstinacy was seized upon to further his cause. Using it would make what he must do next, be less like disguise.
