by Jennifer Joy
Darcy's eyes glazed over, as they often did during one of Mr. Collins' discourses.
Elizabeth leaned toward him, whispering, "I should very much like to improve my skills on a horse. Would you object to giving me a lesson before services on the morrow?"
Darcy immediately warmed to the idea. There would be ample opportunities for closeness. "I shall have to talk with the groom so he might conveniently misplace the mounting block."
She smiled demurely at him. "What an inconvenience it would be for you to have to help me onto the saddle. I do not know how you will manage."
He could tell from her expression she could imagine several ways for him to manage.
"You will be my undoing, my love."
Her cheeks blushed charmingly at the endearment.
"That is not fair, William. I had intended on addressing you such, and now I must think of a different appellation lest you believe my attachment weaker than your own by repeating you."
"I am confident you are up to the task," he teased, groaning inwardly when his sister tugged on his sleeve on his other side.
"William, I was hoping you might arrange for Tanner to join us for a ride on the morrow," Georgiana whispered.
Tomorrow looked to be a busy day. "I will talk with Tanner. I imagine he will be free after breakfast."
Georgiana's bottom lip poked out before she remembered to suck it in. "I would think an earlier hour would be preferable to him. Does not the coach arrive at his inn at the time you suggest?"
Nothing would spoil Darcy's plans with Elizabeth in the morning. If it meant spending all blessed day in a saddle, he would make time for his sister, but not at Elizabeth’s expense.
“I will speak with Tanner.”
Georgiana looked down at her lap. “Perhaps Miss Elizabeth could join us as well.”
Though her suggestion was polite, it was insincere. It was plain to see Georgiana did not want Elizabeth’s company.
Over the next two courses, Darcy leaned from one side to the other as the two ladies he most wanted to please demanded his attention. There were so many things he wished to discuss with Elizabeth, he tried not to show his mounting impatience when Georgiana tapped on his sleeve yet again.
He reached for his wine to drown his sigh.
Elizabeth whispered to him, leaning in close enough, her intoxicating smell relaxed his tense shoulders. “How is it possible that, seated next to each other, I should still miss you? I imagine Miss Darcy feels similarly. Talk with her this evening, William, for tomorrow I shall not share you.”
“Is that a promise?” he asked, amazed at the ease with which Elizabeth playfully lifted the burden from his shoulders.
“Absolutely,” she whispered with an impish grin. “Now, I shall do my best to feign disinterest in you for the remainder of the evening. I know I shall fail abysmally for there is nobody else on this earth of greater interest to me than you, but I must put forth my best effort.”
“You are off to a poor start,” he teased, wanting nothing more than to kiss the tip of her impertinent nose.
She shrugged. “It is to be expected. You have bewitched me, body and soul.” Her low whisper wrapped around him like an embrace, caressing his heart and soothing his frustration.
Georgiana’s spirits improved greatly over the next course of the meal and Darcy, now that his focus had widened beyond the range of Elizabeth, observed the other occupants of the table with more interest.
Mr. Collins reigned supreme at his end of the table, boring Tanner and Miss Lydia with his empty speeches.
Tanner, being in the unfortunate position of being seated between the clergyman and Miss Bingley, and directly across from Mrs. Annesley, kept his vision fixed on the plate before him, drinking deeply from his wine glass when Mr. Collins began praising the superiority of the boiled potatoes.
Mr. Hurst held up his glass, the burgundy liquid swirling around the crystal. “This is a fine wine, indeed, Mr. Bennet. Not local, I dare say.”
Mr. Bennet smiled, his cheeks coloring with the compliment. “Your palate has not mislead you, sir. It is a pity the war has made it difficult to acquire fine wine … among other things.”
Mrs. Hurst sighed, “Silk from Lyons, lace from Alençon, tea…”
“And let us not forget brandy and cigars,” added Mr. Hurst. “Although the best families, even the royal family, manage to acquire those coveted goods.” He leaned back in his chair, waiting for the dessert dish, swirling the wine in his glass between sips and glances around the table.
“Yes, what we now call ‘free trade’ has become more acceptable as the demand for certain items increases. War or no war, it cannot be stopped.” Mr. Bennet shrugged his shoulders. His lenient views clearly spread beyond the raising of his daughters to politics.
Mr. Hurst leaned forward. “I am curious how a thinking man such as yourself views the issue. Smuggling is punishable by our laws, but should our good citizens be denied simple pleasures merely because Napoleon has caused a fuss?”
Miss Bingley huffed. “What a vulgar topic. Politics are best discussed over your pilfered cigars and brandy when the ladies have departed from your company.”
Darcy felt Elizabeth tense at the suggestion that the only interesting subject of the evening should be squelched merely to pacify Miss Bingley’s sensitivities.
“I believe Mr. Hurst’s question is more philosophical than political. If the other ladies at the table have no objection, I should like to hear Mr. Bennet’s opinion,” Darcy said, looking out of the corner of his eye at Elizabeth. Her lips creased upward.
Mr. Bennet, seeing his opportunity to participate in a worthwhile discussion, spoke before Miss Bingley could offer any further objections. “If I look at the problem from a purely selfish point of view, I would say such gentlemen are doing the English a favor by providing the things which bring pleasure in an otherwise dreadful and worrisome time. I will not go into details on that front, as they are of a more political nature. However, on the opposing side, I have to acknowledge the danger which said gentlemen face. If they are caught, the punishment is severe and they stand to lose the very fortunes they have risked themselves to amass.”
Elizabeth spoke. “While I can see how a man with nothing to lose — no position, money, or family to give him cause for caution — would be tempted, I wonder what would motivate a gentleman to involve himself in such a risky venture. Would he really value the wealth he might gain over his life, position, and family?”
Darcy nodded. A gentleman’s main concern should be those whom he holds precious. There were other, more honest ways to increase one’s income without putting himself in harm’s way — provided the gentleman had enough foresight to allow his finances time to recover.
“Desperation makes men do what they would otherwise never consider,” he said. That, and greed, but Darcy did not wish to enter a debate about values with the individuals present. They would never come to an agreement.
“I agree. Only the most desperate of men would risk capture in the turbulent waters between here and France. The disgrace at being caught and the hangman’s noose would pale in comparison to the worst fate of all,” Miss Bingley paused, adding in a hushed voice, “being sent away to Australia.” She shivered and looked about the table for support.
Tanner questioned her reasoning when no one else would. “You would prefer death over a new life in another country?”
“Any lady would object to surrounding herself with criminals — outcasts of English society — only to live in a land known for its uncomfortable climate and abundance of snakes. I would sooner die than set foot on a ship destined for such a horrible place.” Miss Bingley rinsed her mouth with wine, as if the mere mention of Australia had left a bitter taste in her mouth.
“I think it sounds exciting,” Georgiana said in a soft voice, her face lifting in panic and adding quickly, “Not that I wish to travel there as a result of committing a crime, but I would not object to seeing more of the world an
d observing how others live.”
Mr. Bennet said, “And you would receive the finest education in doing so … if reading such accounts proves insufficient to satisfy your thirst for knowledge.”
Elizabeth leaned forward, tilting her face to see Georgiana. “I admit to a great deal of curiosity, though I would be content to see more of England before venturing to other lands. If you could travel anywhere in the world, where would you like to go, Miss Darcy?”
Georgiana’s eyes flickered to Darcy nervously. “I have had the advantage of having a brother who has ensured I travel England extensively, and I am grateful for his kindness to me. Once the war is done, I should like to tour the continent very much.”
Miss Bingley said in a haughty voice, “The continent is where any cultivated lady with elevated standards would wish to go. And nobody here will deny that Miss Darcy has the best taste.”
Darcy was tired of Miss Bingley’s compliments. Georgiana was shy enough without drawing more attention to her.
To his surprise, Georgiana said, “You have a better opinion of myself than I do, Miss Bingley. Perhaps the continent is where the fashionable would go, but it is not the only place I wish to see. The New World promises excitement and an opportunity for families who have not fared so well on our soil to begin anew. I should like to visit a place which inspires such hope so that I may fully appreciate what I have been so fortunate to have been born into and, perhaps, assist others to improve their situation.”
Mrs. Annesley controlled her smile, but her pleasure was clearly heard in her voice. “A lady always sees to the needs of others, leaving them in a better condition than when she found them — be it by her sincere offer of a practical gift or her kind encouragement.”
Darcy, too, was pleased to hear the selfless attitude of his sister when so many in her position looked down on others as beneath their notice. They offered gifts of mercy out of obligation, insulting the families who depended on their kindness and adding to their misery.
“I cannot agree more,” said Elizabeth. “Every life is precious and each individual deserves respect and consideration based on their actions. That is what people should judge by, not birth or station. Those in a position of influence are wise to use their influence to better the lives of others.”
Mr. Collins eagerly added, “It is more blessed to give than to receive.”
Before Mr. Collins could take over the conversation, Mr. Bennet said, “Thank you, Mr. Collins. And there you have it, Mr. Hurst. I am more of a mind to thank a gentleman for providing the small comforts which give pleasure to others, however, he must not do so at the risk of his life unless he holds no objections to being sent to a penal colony as a prisoner should he be caught.”
Mr. Hurst chuckled, greedily raising his glass for it to be filled yet again, and dedicating his full attention to the gingerbread drenched in a creamy glaze placed before him.
Mr. Collins’ covered his nose when the dessert was placed before him, his skin taking on the same pallid hue as the cloth he held to his face. He eyed the cake cautiously, then abruptly excused himself from the table.
Darcy leaned toward Elizabeth. “The gingerbread was your idea?”
She smiled in answer.
A couple of hours later, after their last guest had departed, Elizabeth went up the steps to her room slowly. She had been happy to hear Miss Darcy’s thoughts on travel and charitable work — especially since they coincided with hers. It was much easier to like a person when their views were similar to your own.
Father had not made much of it, but it bothered her that his was the chair to have broken. What were the chances of that? And after the concerns he had voiced the previous day? Could his suspicions be justified after all?
Reaching for the handle on her door, she paused. The skin on Elizabeth’s arms tingled and she hesitated before shaking the fleeting suspicion off. She rarely closed her door. Could the maid have done it?
The door creaked on its hinges as she pushed it open. Stepping in guardedly and placing the candle she held on top of her bedside table, Elizabeth rotated in a circle, her eyes searching for anything to explain the nerves jumping through her body.
Nothing seemed out of place. Her hairbrush and mirror were precisely where she had left them and the velvet stool she sat on while Betsy brushed her hair was pushed under the dressing table. Her novel lay beside the candle in the same position in which she had left it.
She crossed the room and opened her armoire, jumping off to the side for good measure. But no spies or thieves attacked, and she felt silly as she closed the doors.
There was only one thing she hid in her room to tempt an invader. Closing her door softly, she knelt down beside her bed and felt for the loose plank.
Lifting the wood and quietly placing it to the side, she reached down until her fingers touched the rich velvet of the jewelry case. Pulling it out and holding it near the candle, she lifted the lid.
Breathing a sigh of relief when the emeralds and diamonds sparkled in the candlelight, Elizabeth slumped against the side of her bed.
Evidently, Father was not the only one to suffer from suspicious thoughts.
Chapter 13
Elizabeth could not shake the feeling someone had been in her room, and the suspicion robbed her of sleep.
She had asked Lydia if she had borrowed a ribbon or a trifle, that being the easiest (and most preferable) solution, but Lydia insisted she had not set foot in Elizabeth’s room. And why would she borrow a ribbon from her when Miss Darcy had finer trinkets to lend?
Leaving only after securing assurances that Lydia would not bother Miss Darcy nor manipulate her to offer her fineries for Lydia to wear (easier said than done), Elizabeth had hoped her disquietude would disappear. But it had not.
Forgoing her early morning walk for the paddock, Elizabeth had the groom saddle the chestnut mare. Taking advantage of the quiet hour and the softness of the dawn, Elizabeth jumped into her sidesaddle and wiggled into position.
A wicked thought (of the delicious sort, not the malignant) crossed her mind. Addressing the groom, she asked, “Can you please see that the mounting block conveniently disappears before Mr. Darcy arrives?”
“Aye, miss,” the groom said through a grin.
That matter seen to, Elizabeth clucked her tongue and tapped the mare’s side with her boots. She started off slowly, riding in circles around the paddock, getting a feel for the rhythm of the horse beneath her. Soon becoming bored with the slow pace, Elizabeth urged the mare past a bumpy trot to a smooth canter.
The paddock squeezed in around them, and Elizabeth craved the open spaces of the fields surrounding Longbourn. She kept her eyes on the road, knowing William would arrive soon and she would be free to roam over the terrain. Her fingers tingled and her heart fluttered in anticipation.
The mare’s ears perked up and she slowed her gait. Elizabeth reined her in and slid down from the saddle. She was pleased her legs held her steadily.
Running her hand up the horse’s neck to hold her bridle, Elizabeth saw William and his groom trot down the path to the stables.
Whispering to the mare, Elizabeth said, “Good eye, old girl. If I did not know better, I would think you rather fancy Mr. Darcy yourself. Would it be terrible of me to call you Caroline?”
The horse snorted.
“I see we are of the same opinion of said lady. I will think of a better name before the morning is through.”
“You are out early,” said William, dismounting from his stallion. The groom kept at a discreet distance. Elizabeth wondered if he had been instructed to stay several paces away and keep his head down.
“We are ready to explore our surroundings and hear how the grounds at Pemberley differ.” Elizabeth craved to know more about the home she would share with William. Would he show her the places he had played as a boy? What stories would he share with her?
William looked around. “I own that Hertfordshire has many charms, but there is much I wish
to tell you about Pemberley.” Finally seeing whom he had searched for, William asked the groom, “Is there a mounting block for Miss Elizabeth?”
The groom smiled and winked. “No, sir. I regret to inform you the mounting block has been misplaced.”
William laughed. “How convenient. I do not suppose you had anything to do with its disappearance?” he asked Elizabeth.
She pursed her lips and lifted a shoulder in answer.
Leaving his horse with his groom, William stepped closer to her. Close enough she could smell the scent she would forever associate with him. Shaving cream and sandalwood. She closed her eyes and inhaled. So far, her plan was going splendidly.
“Twenty-six days cannot go by quickly enough to suit me,” he said, lifting a curl and tucking it behind the ribbon holding her bonnet in place. Shivers ran up and down her spine as his finger trailed down her cheek to tilt up her chin, and she forgot the concerns which had seemed so important to her the previous night.
“How far is Gretna Green?” she teased.
William’s dark eyes danced in mischief. “Do not tempt me.”
Taking a deep breath and a step away from her, he held his hands together to form a stirrup and knelt down.
“I believe it is my job as the future Mrs. Darcy to tempt you. I mean to practice today and hope you will tell me where I may improve.” She placed her foot in his hands and a hand on his shoulder, leaning in enough she felt the warmth of his body against her side.
William groaned. “You will be the death of me before the twenty-six days are complete.”
In one smooth motion, he lifted her into the air. The muscles under his coat rippled under her fingers as he effortlessly placed her on top of her saddle. It was over so quickly, Elizabeth was tempted to slide off the leather to do it again, but she refrained herself.
As if he could read her thoughts, William stood close enough to prevent such an action. “It seems it was the wise decision to bring my groom.”
