by Jennifer Joy
"Thank you, Papa," said Mary.
“If only I had seen to a companion for you to provide a barrier to Mr. Collins’ attention. He must assume I approve of the match, and I fear I have given him cause to believe as much. However, he is greatly mistaken if he thinks I would force one of my daughters to marry against her will.” Setting his teacup and half-eaten toast aside, Father rose. "I will think about the matter in my study. Please, feel free to play a merry tune on the pianoforte and make as much noise as you wish. I find the house too quiet these days."
He bumped into the doorway on his way out.
Elizabeth looked at her sisters. Her concern was mirrored in their faces. For all his show to the contrary, Father was not well. Or was he? Was his grief so great, he was making himself ill?
Tanner downed the amber liquid in one swallow.
Darcy knew better than to ask directly why Richard's wedding should bother Tanner so badly. A couple of hours seated next to Miss Bingley would put most men in a dark mood. So he sat opposite his brother, sipping from the glass at his leisure and waiting for him to say something.
When the minutes stretched long in silence, Darcy chanced to say, "I will miss Richard."
"Aye," Tanner replied, pouring himself another drink.
Darcy could not force Tanner’s confidence, so he changed subjects. "Georgiana arrives on Friday from London."
The drink was partway to Tanner's lips, but at the mention of Georgie, he lowered it to the counter.
Tanner looked around his inn, his shoulders slumping the longer he inspected his domain. "She will not want to stay here. It is not grand enough for a young lady brought up as fine as she has been."
"Your inn is as fine as any other she has stayed at," countered Darcy.
"I surmise you will want to leave as well. Your place is with her. No doubt, Bingley offered his house?"
"What? Do you want me to leave?" Some brother! Were all brothers so annoying?
"Yes … No … I mean, you must do as you please." Tanner grabbed a white cloth and scrubbed the polished wood of the bar.
"Georgie wants to meet you. She was overjoyed to learn she has another brother."
Tanner scoffed. "Some brother. A keeper of a tavern."
"A man who has worked hard for what he has. There is no shame in that."
"Not for a common man, but she is a lady."
"I am a gentleman, and you have never been intimidated by me. Or have you forgotten how rude you were when we first met? Why should you cower before our little sister?"
"That was different. I saw you as an adversary — a spoiled brat raised with a silver spoon."
"Georgiana is neither spoiled nor a brat," Darcy said, feeling his hackles rise.
"No. She is far worse," mumbled Tanner.
That was it. Rising to his feet, Darcy slammed his empty glass down on the bar. "If you are so determined to wallow in your misery and isolate your friends that you would insult your own little sister, then I shall take my leave. We will not burden you with our presence here."
Tanner crossed his arms, saying in a soft voice, "She is a refined lady. What is she going to think of a brute like me?"
Had Tanner responded with fists, Darcy would have been better prepared. He had suffered a blow from him before. But this humble insecurity was foreign to him and entirely unexpected.
Darcy said, "Allow me to assure you that Georgie is rather accustomed to … bold … personalities." She endured his company, did she not?
Tanner continued, "She will find me disappointing. Sometimes I wish I had never met any of you. If only I had kept my mouth shut—"
“But you did not.”
Tanner glared at Darcy. “You are a pest.”
"As are you. But we will still welcome you at Pemberley."
"What? You would have me as a guest in your grand house and set the society gossips against you? You know they would talk. They would wonder why a highborn gentleman would entertain a lowly tradesman in his home. We are from different worlds, Darcy."
Darcy's heart clenched at the bitterness in Tanner's tone and the unfairness society placed on the two men separated only by circumstances. "Bingley comes from trade and he has stayed at Pemberley."
"He is wealthy and has pleasing manners. I am nothing like him, nor could I pretend to be if I tried."
"I care not for gossip. I refuse to allow it to influence how I live my life and to whom I choose to extend an invitation to my home. Georgiana has been raised to possess a better sense of justice and honesty than you give her credit for."
"Still, I think it best for her to stay at Netherfield Park … or, even better, at Longbourn."
"She wants to meet you. Will you deny her the pleasure of acquainting herself with her eldest brother?"
Tanner slammed his fist against the bar. "Blast you, Darcy. Do you not see how it is?"
"All I see is a stubborn man who appears to be afraid of a girl."
"I am terrified! Call me what you will, Darcy, but I do not do well with ladies like your sister. The delicate type … I will say the wrong thing and she will think of me as everyone else would if the truth became known. I am nothing but a disgrace on the Darcy name. I was, still am, and forever will be a mistake. It will be better for all of us when you leave."
Darcy squeezed the glass between his fingers until they turned white. Tanner was not at fault for their father’s indiscretions. “No life is a mistake. Whether you wish it or not, we are family. And as your brother I will warn you plainly: If you show any of the resentment you displayed toward me when we first met to Georgiana, we will come to blows again. But like it or not, Tanner, we will forever remain brothers.”
Tanner clenched his jaw, speaking through his teeth. “You had best arrange for her to stay at Longbourn.”
Darcy left the taproom for his room upstairs before Tanner could utter another word. The man was impossible.
Chapter 5
The following morning, Elizabeth left her room for a stroll. She had much to ponder before William called, but she was pulled out of her thoughts when voices from Father’s study reached her at the top of the landing. Or rather, a voice. An angry voice. Elizabeth stopped short, tempted to sit three steps down and lean in toward the wall where a convenient hole behind a bookshelf in Father’s study would allow her to listen in on the argument.
Before she could properly justify her reasons for eavesdropping, the study door burst open and she saw Father’s land steward, Mr. Bilford, stalk stiffly across the hall, leaving an unsettled air in his wake.
What cause did Mr. Bilford have to speak harshly to Papa? She had not heard his complaint clearly, but there was no mistaking the ire in his tone.
She continued down the stairs, making her way to Father. He stood in the doorway of his study, his spectacles pushed low on his nose, one hand rubbing his eyes and the other propped against the wooden frame he leaned on.
"Are you well this morning, Papa?" she asked softly.
He lowered his hand from his eyes to reveal a pink complexion. Whether it was from his agitation or his improved health, Elizabeth could not discern. However, it was far preferable to the gray hue of the day before … even though it boded ill for her future plans.
Father answered, "I am vastly improved. You have all concerned yourselves over nothing, I fear."
"I am glad to hear it. You look well. Perhaps you should meet more often with Mr. Bilford,” she teased, pausing to allow him to fill in the details should he choose to do so.
He sighed, “There is nothing to raise the blood like discussing business before partaking of a proper breakfast.” With a smile, he pushed his spectacles up, and added, “It is a mistake I shall not repeat.”
If he would not volunteer the information, she would ask directly. “What was your business with Mr. Bilford? He seemed agitated.”
Father clucked his tongue, turning to his desk to close the open ledgers and stack them on the corner. “It is nothing for you to trouble your
self with, Lizzy.”
“Promise me it has no bearing on your illness yesterday and I shall press no further.”
Father sat in his worn leather chair, leaning back and resting his arms behind his head until the seat groaned. “I woke this morning in the best of health, leaving me to conclude that I miss Jane and this house is much too silent without her, Kitty, Mary, and your mother in it. I do not know how I will manage with all of you gone. I might be moved to drastic measures and invite Mr. Collins to stay until my demise.”
Elizabeth giggled. “You will do no such thing.”
Father sat forward, “And why ever not, I ask? He is not my first choice, not even close, but he knows how to fill the silence with his endless, verbose allocutions.”
“I would never wish such a fate on you. I hate to admit it, but perhaps it is for the best, then, that you have delayed my wedding until Jane's return to Netherfield Park. If one daughter's wedding and departure affected you so poorly, I dread to think what mine will do." Elizabeth held her breath for his reply. Were Father to give his consent, she would marry William that same day. He would carry her off to Pemberley and she would lose herself in his arms for days … weeks. However long it took until she felt truly secure. The past few months had been tempestuous, and though she had enjoyed the calm of the previous weeks, she could not shake the sentiment that trouble yet brewed below the calm surface of her life. She only hoped Father would not be the source of it.
"I gave far too much consideration to my reply to doubt it now, Lizzy. You may feel that my decision is selfish, but I assure you, I did not make it lightly. I sense something of import is underfoot….” His eyebrows furled and his voice trailed off.
What could she say? Elizabeth felt it too. Still, her heart fell to her empty stomach, disappointed in postponed expectations and full of sadness for her grieving father. She was not so cruel as to leave him until he gave her leave. And he knew it. Blast it. "I could not forgive myself were you to suffer at my hand when it is in my power to prevent it." She felt the truth of her words from the bottom of her soul and she took comfort in it. It was the silver lining in her raincloud of unfulfilled hope.
Father's eyes glistened with tears. "I cannot deny that I will miss you greatly. I could not bear to part with you were it for a lesser man than Mr. Darcy. But, Lizzy, though I have asked for your patience, I will not be the one to prevent your union when there are so many others who would delight for you never to make it to the altar."
Lady Catherine … Miss Bingley … most likely the Hursts … and who knew what Miss Darcy would think of her? What if she was as proud as her brother had been upon arriving at Meryton? Elizabeth did not know many ladies of gentle birth whom she would befriend. Most of them were like Miss Bingley — full of nothing but airs. If only they would fly away like a hot air balloon.
"Lizzy?" Father asked.
She shook her head. "I apologize. I was lost in my thoughts."
"Listen to this, then, and I will bore you no longer. Mr. Darcy is to call today and I believe we should discuss the matter with him."
"I was not bored, Papa. Your words gave me pause to ponder how many enemies I have acquired since meeting William." She felt like a fool when Father's countenance darkened. Mother had been murdered by a concealed enemy. Wickham, as well, had met his end at the hand of one of his many enemies. Enemies killed, and it was a poor choice of a word to use with Father.
"I am inclined to think you would do well to leave Meryton sooner rather than later," he said. "It has become a grim place of late and I fear that I, too, have acquired an enemy."
Now, that, she had not expected.
Mary, after passing the night in her old room, returned to Aunt Philips' house, taking Lydia and Chloe along with her to share in the tea and gossip. Elizabeth was grateful. Father would speak more freely with her sisters away … although her attempts to pry more information out of him had been met with silence, leaving her imagination to run rampant and assume the worst.
A few long hours later, William called, and Father lost no time in revealing the source of his concern.
"Mr. Darcy, the truth of the matter is that I have changed my mind. I heartily give my consent for you to marry my daughter immediately. There is nothing which would please me more than for you to take her far away from this place. If you act in haste, you may marry on the morrow and depart immediately afterward.”
It was too good to be true. William sensed it as clearly as Elizabeth did.
“To what do we owe this change of heart, Mr. Bennet? Are you unwell?” asked William.
“Other than a touch of dizziness, I feel much as I normally do. While I will not deny that my grief and the emptiness in my house weigh heavily on me, I do not believe they were the cause of my illness yesterday … or on other occasions over the past few weeks.”
Over the past few weeks? This was news to Elizabeth. She had noticed several small changes over Father, but nothing nearly so alarming as yesterday’s malaise. “Why have you said nothing until now?” she asked.
“I do not discount the possibility that I am merely allowing the trauma of the past few months to have a greater effect over me than I would like to admit. A madwoman attacking me with a penknife, the murder of my wife, bricks with accusations thrown through my home’s windows, the drugging and kidnapping of my dearest daughter … and those are just the more memorable events from which I could choose. It is enough to make any man wary, and so I must voice my concerns with others of a sounder mind than mine lest I begin to doubt my own sanity. In fact, I briefly considered the possibility of Lady Lucas poisoning the food at the wedding feast, but since I was the only one to fall ill, I think we can discount that thought."
"Papa! After what she has put herself through, she would be the last person in the world to bring us any more harm,” Elizabeth said in Lady Lucas’ defense. Father may question his own mind, but she knew him to be as sharp as a needle. Was this a clever attempt to keep her near? To get both her and William to agree she should remain at Longbourn longer?
"I know it, Lizzy. Pardon my inappropriate sense of humor.”
William’s face was devoid of all emotion. In a grave tone, he said, “If it is logic and reason you seek, let us discuss the matter thoroughly.”
“You have reasons to believe someone wishes to do you harm?” Elizabeth asked, praying Father had no proof to suspect another mystery was afoot. Oh, please, not that! There had been a time when Elizabeth had thought an investigation exciting; a grand adventure; a satisfying puzzle. Not anymore.
“I believe I do,” he answered simply, dashing Elizabeth’s hopes of continuing with the somewhat normal rhythm of life they had adopted over the past three weeks.
“What proof do you have?” asked William. He leaned forward in his chair, paying rapt attention to Father.
“Yesterday was not the first time I have been affected by a stomachache the likes of which I suffered at Jane’s wedding feast, although it gripped me harder than previous times. If it were a normal illness, why should I recover so quickly? And why am I the only one in my household and among friends to suffer?”
Because he had always enjoyed a hearty constitution and he mourned Mother’s death and the changes to his household more than anyone else, Elizabeth could have answered. Instead, she asked, “You believe someone is poisoning you? Papa, why did you not say so before?”
Father shook his head. “Like everyone else, I believed it was only an accumulation of emotion I am unaccustomed to allow myself to feel. It is much more difficult to live with the consequences of one's neglect and the burden of responsibility than to hide away in my book room and continue on as I did before. However, I can no longer ignore the sensation that something dire is amiss."
He based his suspicions on a sensation? Elizabeth tried not to despair; to allow her father the dignity of a listening ear without judgment as he had requested. But the more he spoke, the more she was convinced his concerns were merely part of a bigg
er plan to delay her departure.
“Whom do you suspect?” William asked.
“Due to Jane’s courtship with Mr. Bingley, we have often been invited to Netherfield Park to dine or take tea. That was the first time I recall falling ill.”
“At Bingley’s?” Darcy exclaimed in disbelief. Elizabeth, too, was astonished.
Father so often hid in Mr. Bingley’s library, a habit Mr. Bingley encouraged to allow himself more conversation with Jane, that Elizabeth had not noticed anything untoward. Except for that one time…. Elizabeth had credited Father’s flushed face and agitated expression to annoyance with Mr. Collins, who during his recovery at the vicar’s house must have amassed several sermons on his sickbed with which he graced them that fine afternoon. Mr. Hurst had lasted a mere five minutes before a snore had escaped him.
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at her father. If he was as ill as he said he was that day, why had no one taken notice?
Father continued, “It confounds me as well. While I am convinced Mr. Bingley is ignorant of it, otherwise I never would have allowed Jane to marry him, I cannot extend the same conviction of innocence toward his sisters or Mr. Hurst. You understand, of course, I only mention their names in the confidence of your discretion. I will make no accusations public unless I am certain they are not the senselessness of a grieving, lonely, old man.”
“Of course.” William ran his hand through his hair and squeezed the back of his neck, the frustration on his face evident when he looked up at Elizabeth. Had he drawn the same conclusion she had? “Are there any other occasions worth mention?” he asked, pulling his eyes away from her to focus again on Father.
“Another was after a hunting expedition at Lucas Lodge. Not being of the sporting sort, I joined the gentlemen at the lodge after they had rid the property of its fowl.”
Elizabeth would rather have another mystery to solve than accept that her father’s illness stemmed from his desire to keep her at his side. Her whole being recoiled that he would attempt to manipulate them so selfishly. Otherwise, how could Father express himself so calmly? No, she would not accept it — nay, she would not even consider it — unless the evidence became irrefutable. “Was Mr. Hurst there?” she inquired, trying to find a pattern.
