by Jennifer Joy
“Why? So I would have to behave?” Elizabeth teased.
The want in William’s face dried up her laughter and set her nerves on fire so that her breath shook.
“For your protection,” he said gently.
She knew she ought to stop, but she was intoxicated with his nearness and the knowledge of the effect she had on him. “Protection? Are you dangerous?”
Elizabeth forgot to breathe as William’s eyebrows arched and his gaze penetrated through her like a predator. Like a panther taking stock of his prey. It was a dangerous look. It was a look she had no business tempting him to give her until she truly was Mrs. Darcy.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, she pushed her horse forward. “I feel the need for a good run. Do you?”
William strode determinedly to his stallion and mounted. “Good idea.”
They rode side by side until Elizabeth’s cheeks burned from the cold air they cut through. Stopping along a swollen spring of water, they handed the reins over to the groom and sat beneath a tree while he tended to the horses.
Elizabeth’s body hummed with energy. She had forgotten how exhilarating it was to ride so fast tears pulled from the corners of her eyes. Dabbing her face dry, she leaned back against the trunk of the tree and tried to calm her trembling limbs (a vain feat, for certain, as William sat close enough for their knees to brush at the smallest movement. Who tempted whom now, Mr. Darcy?).
“Is this what our days will be like, William?” she asked, soaking in the morning sun as it peeked through the gray, winter clouds, lining them with a becoming pink glow.
“I hope so.” He plucked a piece of grass, rubbing it between his fingers so that it twirled. “Although, I imagine we will often have Georgiana’s company.”
Elizabeth sighed. “Yes. I have noticed how jealous she is of you.”
William watched her intently, the grass blade falling to the ground. “Will that be a problem? Until she grows accustomed to us, that is?”
His concern touched her, but not nearly as much as his determination to marry her come what may.
“I will not allow it to become a problem. She has not resorted to underhanded manipulations as anyone less genteel would. I respect her for it. And I sense we have more in common than I had initially thought. When she shared her opinions at dinner, I will admit I felt pride at how well she defended her views though she knew they ran contrary to Miss Bingley’s.”
“That must be the work of Mrs. Annesley. Georgiana is painfully shy — to the point she would rather suffer harm than express herself before a group of new acquaintances.”
“I like Mrs. Annesley. She is every bit a lady, but she has a strength of character I admire.”
“That is how I would describe you,” said William, plucking another piece of grass.
“I cannot imagine Mrs. Annesley getting into half as much trouble as I manage. However will you bear it, William?”
“My life lacked the color you give it. Though I will admit it will be a relief to me when I can stay by your side to protect you.”
“Hmm, I sense fencing lessons in my near future,” she said, perfectly serious.
William stilled and his voice deepened. “When your father voiced his suspicions, I dismissed them as a contrived excuse to keep you close to your childhood home. However, I have to wonder at the coincidence of his chair breaking.”
The same concern had troubled Elizabeth. “The furniture is old and Father has talked of replacing it, but … nothing has broken before. Not until last night. The timing of it was disturbing enough, I examined the chair. It did not look as if it had been tampered with.”
“I had guessed you would examine it. As if that was not concerning enough, there was Mr. Hurst’s conversation.”
“That was impressive. I had not heard him speak so much on any topic before.”
“Which makes it more notable. Has Mr. Bennet mentioned why Mr. Hurst seems bent on pursuing a friendship with him?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “I do not think even Father knows, as every call Mr. Hurst has made has been interrupted.”
Much like their current conversation. Out of the corner of her eye, up the stream, Elizabeth saw a little boy with a dirty face. William noticed the boy, too.
Reaching into her pocket for the apple she had saved for the mare, she called the boy over.
“Billy Willis? Is that you?” she asked when the boy hesitated the closer he got to them.
The boy smiled, revealing two large gaps where his milk teeth had been.
Elizabeth laughed. “However will you eat this apple without teeth? When did you lose them?” She tossed him the apple, Billy being unwilling to come nearer.
“A se'ennight ago.” He took a big bite of the apple, holding it up so they could see the missing chunk.
“Well done, young man,” said William.
“How is your family, Billy? Your mother was not at home last time I paid her a call.”
Billy swallowed the wad in his cheek and stabbed the toe of his boot into the dirt.
“Billy? Are they well?” repeated Elizabeth, her forehead tensing as her concern grew. Billy’s family was the poorest of all their tenants, and Mr. Willis had pretended not to see her lately when she walked by the fields.
With a huff, Billy exclaimed, “We would be better if Mr. Bennet had not raised our rent!”
“What?! Did this happen recently?” Could this be the reason Father had quarreled with Mr. Bilford? Father would never raise the rent when he knew the tenants could hardly afford to feed their growing families.
“Six months ago, miss.”
Elizabeth fell back against the tree in shock. Father had said nothing to her … if he knew.
“I am sorry, Billy. I did not know. I will speak to my father.” Uneasiness settled in her stomach. If Father did not know, which she would bet her emeralds he did not, it meant Mr. Bilford had acted independently. If he would raise rents without Father’s consent, what else was he capable of doing?
“Will you really?” the boy said hopefully before his eyes widened. “But you must not say I said anything. Papa will take the strap to my backside if he finds out.”
“I would not dream of it,” she said, raising her finger to her lips.
“Thank you for the apple, miss,” said Billy, scurrying away as quickly as he had appeared.
Before she could recover fully, William said, “Your father has not shown you his ledgers, has he?” It was more of a disappointed statement than a question.
“No. Does he have further reason to suspect Mr. Bilford of causing us more harm? I cannot believe Father was the one to raise their rent. He knows they have so little, and he has never been motivated by money.”
“That, I believe. His negligence of the estate has allowed his steward to carry on dishonestly for many years.”
She snapped, “He ought to be dismissed immediately.”
William said through tight lips, “That is what I advised.”
He stopped, but Elizabeth could fill in what William was too polite to say in front of her. “But Father wants to give him the opportunity to make right what he has done. William, I love my father, but I am not blind to his faults. You do not need to protect me from them nor soften them for my sake.”
“I am relieved to hear it. I daresay this will not be the only occasion we will have to help him deal with the consequences of his negligence. He has shown improvement, but I do not know that he will ever gain the decisiveness a gentleman in his position requires — in which case it becomes all the more imperative that his steward be trustworthy.”
And trustworthy, Mr. Bilford was not.
Chapter 14
Elizabeth savored the morning she spent with William, as the remainder of the day proved to be a lesson in endless frustration.
Father described his earlier conversation with William to her and explained his reasons for continuing to employ Mr. Bilford. He offered to show Elizabeth the ledgers and asked for her inpu
t — which she gave emphatically and which he brushed off as easily as he had William’s sage advice. Mr. Bilford had been willing to meet with Father more often and it was his greatest hope the problem resulting from years of abuse (for there was no kinder word for it in Elizabeth’s mind) would simply disappear.
Even when she mentioned the raised rents, he assured her Mr. Bilford must have an explanation, though his aspect was troubled enough to prove to her what she had suspected all along. Father had not known about the matter. It made her wonder what other secrets Mr. Bilford kept from them. How else had he benefited from dishonest gain at the cost of their tenants? It made her sick to think about and even sicker that her father endured it to preserve his precious peace.
Father’s failure to act robbed her of another night’s sleep.
She had much to ponder the following morning and while the crisp breeze and bright skies did much to raise her spirits, the worries awaited her return, settling on her shoulders as soon as she stepped over Longbourn’s threshold.
Whispering voices drifted out to the hall and Elizabeth followed them in the direction of the breakfast room. She was hungry, and if Mrs. Annesley and Miss Darcy wished to engage in a private conversation, there were better places to do so than the room containing her morning food.
Stepping through the doorway, Elizabeth froze. Mrs. Annesley was nowhere to be found. In her place was a most disturbing sight, for sitting at the table with their heads together was Miss Darcy and … Lydia. They looked up guiltily when she greeted them. Oh, this was bad.
Elizabeth loved her sister, but she would never encourage a friendship between Lydia and Miss Darcy. Considering how Miss Darcy had nearly done what Lydia dreamed of doing (eloping with a handsome officer), Elizabeth cringed when they bolted upright in her presence, their eyes wandering the room but their lips suspiciously silent. They were scheming something, and that knowledge took away Elizabeth’s appetite. Would she never sleep or eat again?
Mrs. Annesley joined them and Miss Darcy remained silent. Lydia, never one to keep her peace for long, fed Chloe bits from the table and giggled over her secret (which earned her a stern glare from Miss Darcy and served to add to Elizabeth’s concern).
Finally, Miss Darcy broke her silence. “Mrs. Annesley, Miss Lydia and I wish to take advantage of the pleasant weather and walk into Meryton.”
“You do not wish to ride your filly?” asked Mrs. Annesley.
Miss Darcy’s eyes flickered to Lydia, who shook her head enthusiastically. “And force me to ride one of those filthy beasts? Never! It is the carriage or my own feet for me.”
“Then why do you not take the carriage?” Elizabeth asked.
“I would prefer it. However, Papa said the coachman is seeing to some repairs and it will not be available until later.”
“Can your plans not wait?” she inquired.
Lydia looked at Miss Darcy and giggled again. “We do not wish to lose any time. Georgiana wishes to surprise her brother at the inn with a call and I thought to call at Aunt’s to see Mary.”
Elizabeth grimaced at Lydia’s informal use of Miss Darcy’s name. However, the young lady herself did not appear offended in the least. Which could only mean one thing: Miss Darcy and Lydia had become close friends. Surprise call or not, William would not be pleased. Nor did Mrs. Annesley appear happy.
“When do we depart?” Mrs. Annesley asked.
Miss Darcy squirmed in her chair. “Would you not prefer to rest for our outing this afternoon?”
William had planned a picnic. Elizabeth’s heart warmed at the location he had chosen. Oakham Mount — that enchanted place where they had first kissed.
Mrs. Annesley answered, “You know as well as I do that Mr. Darcy would expect me to accompany you.”
Miss Darcy’s shoulders did not slump, nor did she give any visible reaction to indicate her feelings as Lydia would have done, but Elizabeth sensed her disappointment all the same. What could Miss Darcy possibly do that she did not wish her companion to see?
Mrs. Annesley must have had similar thoughts. As she moved her chair back to depart, she whispered to Elizabeth, “Meet me in the drawing room?”
Nodding, Elizabeth waited until Lydia and Miss Darcy were occupied with Chloe to dismiss herself.
She found Mrs. Annesley pacing in front of the window.
“Do you know what they are up to?” she asked, wringing her hands.
“I only wish I did,” said Elizabeth, motioning for Mrs. Annesley to join her on the settee. “I take it you do not know?”
Pursing her lips and clasping her hands together, she said, “I only have suspicions.”
More suspicions. Elizabeth was done with them. It was a horrible thought, but it had been easier when the mystery involved a dead body. She did not scandalize Mrs. Annesley by admitting as much aloud — it was a shocking enough thought on its own. But true, nonetheless. Now, Elizabeth felt for an absolute certainty there was a mystery underfoot, but she had no idea what it was or if it had anything at all to do with Father or the sensation that someone had disturbed her room. All she had were blasted suspicions and the sense that all the questions stemmed from one source … or did they?
Elizabeth listed them in her mind: Father’s bouts of illness and his “accidents” he credited to the need for new spectacles and furniture. Mr. Bilford’s dishonesty. Mr. Hurst’s attempts to strengthen his acquaintance with Father, as well as said gentleman’s odd conversation. Lydia and Miss Darcy’s unlikely friendship. Was there more?
“What have you noticed?” she asked Mrs. Annesley, praying for some clarity.
“Since we have arrived, Miss Darcy has taken an interest in the spaniel puppy. I thought their mutual interest in Chloe to be the reason for their deepening acquaintance.”
That was what Elizabeth had assumed as well.
Continuing, Mrs. Annesley said, “However, yesterday, I found them in Miss Darcy’s room, sealing a letter. She tucked the letter behind her back to hide it from me. That Miss Darcy would act secretively strikes me as unlike her, but given her history — of which Mr. Darcy assured me you are well-aware — it concerns me greatly.”
Elizabeth exhaled deeply. “I hate to say it, but if Lydia is involved, it could very well involve a gentleman. She is not malicious by any means, but she lacks sense enough not to see how dangerous her flirtations are. If she has dragged Miss Darcy into one of her marriage schemes…” She finished her sentence with a shiver.
“It would be disastrous,” whispered Mrs. Annesley. “I have come to care deeply for Miss Darcy and do not wish for her to suffer another heartbreak. I would have failed her so completely, I would deserve to be dismissed with no recommendations.”
The desperation in her tone made Elizabeth ask, “Have you nowhere to go should the worst happen?”
Mrs. Annesley’s eyes filled with tears, but not one dropped to dampen her cheek. “I have no one.”
Elizabeth needed no more encouragement to get to the bottom of the mystery … mysteries … whatever was robbing her of sleep and stealing her appetite as well as threatening Mrs. Annesley’s position immediately.
“We cannot have that. From what Mr. Darcy has told me and my own observations of Miss Darcy, you have been a good influence on her character. I should hate for her to be denied your company over what is, no doubt, the hair-brained scheme of my little sister. Did you see to whom the letter was addressed?”
Mrs. Annesley stiffened. “In part. I saw enough to suspect a gentleman was involved, but with what you tell me about Miss Lydia, it is almost certain.”
Elizabeth closed her eyes and sighed. Foolish, foolish Lydia.
“What was the name?” she asked.
“Miss Darcy’s finger was in the middle of the Christian name, but I believe I saw enough. Michael Nelson.”
“Michael Nelson,” Elizabeth repeated, mulling over the name in her mind. She could not recall ever meeting a gentleman with that name. “Is he an acquaintance of the Darcys?” sh
e asked.
“Not to my knowledge. Then again, I have only been Miss Darcy’s companion these six months. They have many acquaintances of whom I am unaware.”
“And you are certain you read the name correctly?”
“As certain as I can be with her finger covering part of the name, though I am absolutely certain I read the surname correctly. I imagine they aim to post the letter today, which explains why Miss Darcy does not wish for me to accompany her.”
This was getting worse and worse. “Of course, she will not oblige you to remain behind when she knows you are to accompany her.” Elizabeth tapped her fingers against her chin. “The real question, then, is: Who is this Michael Nelson and what is his connection to my sister and Miss Darcy?”
“It took me some time to earn Miss Darcy’s confidence. I cannot appear to spy on her, but I will encourage her to confide in me if she is willing to do so.”
Elizabeth agreed. “We have enough to go on without you putting your position in danger. I would rather not involve him, but we may need to tell Mr. Darcy.”
Mrs. Annesley winced.
Reassuring her, Elizabeth said, “He will act fairly by you — especially since you brought forth your concerns quickly and directly. If we are to find out who this Mr. Nelson is, we will need his help.” She paused, an idea forming. “Of course, if they are posting the letter, there is no need to act unless they get a reply. Much of Lydia’s correspondence goes unanswered.”
“Very well,” said Mrs. Annesley, visibly relaxing. “Anything to protect Miss Darcy’s tender heart. She cannot know how an infatuation blinds an innocent lady from all sense and logic.” Mrs. Annesley’s strained voice held an angry edge, making Elizabeth deduce that the companion spoke from her own experience.
Reaching forward, Elizabeth squeezed her hand as she would have done to comfort Jane. “We will solve this conundrum to the advantage of our beloved ones.” Maybe if Elizabeth repeated the words enough, she would believe them sufficiently to make them possible. It always worked for Jane.
“At least we will try our best,” Elizabeth’s realistic side added aloud. So much for blind positivity. Jane could keep it. Elizabeth dealt with facts. Facts which she could not allow to pass by unnoticed.
