by Jennifer Joy
No conspicuous messages or letters were sent or received. No more accidents befell Father. Of course, between Elizabeth and Mr. Collins, Father was never alone for more than a minute, making any attempts at sabotaging another piece of furniture difficult.
And so when Mr. Hill informed Elizabeth a letter had arrived, her pulse immediately raced.
Looking at the handwriting and recognizing it as Anne’s (or Miss de Bourgh as Elizabeth would forever address her friend before Lady Catherine), Elizabeth peeled the wax seal off the paper and poured over the tight writing covering the page.
Anne had promised to keep her informed on the progress of her treatments under the care of Dr. Hammond. Another subject of great interest to Elizabeth, and of which Anne graciously enlightened her, was the goings-on of the great lady. One could only hope Lady Catherine was kept too occupied with her own problems to give much attention to the thorn in her side (otherwise known as Elizabeth).
“What are you reading, Lizzy?” asked Lydia, entering the parlor where Elizabeth stood by the light of the window.
So involved had Elizabeth been in Anne’s letter, Lydia’s voice startled her. Pushing her shoulders down, Elizabeth said, “It is a letter from Miss de Bourgh.”
“Has she eloped with the handsome doctor yet?” Lydia asked, flopping down into the chair beside Elizabeth.
Anne’s letter was that of a friend bearing nothing but good tidings. Her health was improved and she gained strength with each passing day. And what was even better? Lady Catherine was too engrossed in chaperoning her daughter and Dr. Hammond to prevent a wholly unacceptable match, she had neither the time nor the energy to devote to the sabotage of Elizabeth and William’s wedding. Celebratory news, indeed!
Taking advantage of the opportunity to do some investigating of her own, Elizabeth said, “You know, Lydia, not everyone wishes to elope as you do.”
Lydia shook her head, her curls bouncing around her face. “Oh, I do not wish to elope anymore. Gentlemen of position make certain their weddings are announced in the newspapers.” She primped and posed as if readying to have her likeness taken.
“You wish to have your name printed in the newspapers like Admiral Lord Nelson?” Elizabeth held her breath and bit her lip, watching Lydia’s reaction at the mention of the familiar surname.
Forgetting Anne’s letter entirely when the opportunity to talk about herself presented itself, Lydia answered, “I shall be on the front page soon.”
Her comment alarmed Elizabeth far more than a blush at the mention of Mr. Nelson (who most assuredly was not a relation to the Admiral Lord if he did not have sense enough to involve himself with a lady so young as Georgiana) would have. Deciding directness was called for, Elizabeth asked, “What are you planning?”
Lydia shrugged. “Nothing I am willing to spoil by sharing it with you yet.”
So she most definitely was planning something. Not good news. “I do hope you have not involved Miss Darcy in your plans.”
Popping up from her seat, Lydia hung one hand off Elizabeth’s shoulder. “Oh, but Lizzy, it was her idea! And a brilliant one it is, too. I will not ruin the surprise, but if it were not for her … friend … it would not be possible at all and she never would have written to … her friend … had I not encouraged her.”
The pause Lydia put around Georgiana’s “friend” and the dreamy look in her sister’s half-closed eyelids sent shivers through Elizabeth’s body.
To make matters worse, Miss Darcy poked her head through the open door. Politely greeting Elizabeth, Miss Darcy said, “Something arrived today and I would like your opinion, please, Lydia.”
With a giggle, Lydia skipped across the room and the two girls whispered all the way up the stairs.
Elizabeth followed them out to the hall, searching for Mrs. Annesley, who was easily found as she also searched for Elizabeth.
Pulling her away from the stairs, Mrs. Annesley whispered, “She had the stable boy bring her the post. I can only assume it is from Mr. Nelson, otherwise there would be no need for her to act secretively.”
Elizabeth despised secrets. “We need to know who the letter is from.”
“I will give them a few minutes, then I will wander in their direction on the pretext of borrowing a novel from Miss Darcy. Maybe the letter will still be out and I can ask casually.”
“It is as good a plan as any. I will wait in the drawing room so as not to arouse their suspicion.” She would pace in front of the fireplace, for Elizabeth could not possibly sit when her nerves flinched all over her body.
The wait was excruciating. And the only other worry big enough to distract her from the present only intensified her anxiety.
Father.
He had suffered a headache, but was now on the mend — so much so he planned to drive his gig into Meryton to ask Mr. Burke what he had in the way of furniture as soon as the rain ceased. An unobjectionable idea on the surface.
Elizabeth had been grateful for the change of weather. It had kept Father indoors and safe. News of his injury had prevented callers, which had been an added blessing. Until Elizabeth knew who meant Father harm and why they would attack a peaceful gentleman with little in the way of fortune, she could not let her guard down.
Mrs. Annesley joined her, closing the door and speaking before reaching Elizabeth’s side.
“The letter was open when I passed by the door. They clearly did not expect me, for Miss Darcy discreetly folded the letter and put it in her pocket before I could see a name.”
“Blast!” said Elizabeth under her breath, then blushing at her exclamation.
“Precisely how I felt. However, I pretended I had seen a name and inquired about the family. Miss Darcy was startled, but she admitted it was a letter from Miss Nelson. The way she emphasized “Miss” makes me certain it must be from the same Mr. Nelson I saw her send a letter to last week.”
Elizabeth related everything Lydia had said in the parlor minutes before to Mrs. Annesley.
The companion’s skin paled. “I hate to think how this will affect Mr. Darcy. He loves his sister very much, and this will surely break his heart.”
“We cannot allow that.” Elizabeth did not know how she would manage it, but she would follow both Father and Miss Darcy to protect them from harm if it came to that.
“Has he heard from his man?” asked Mrs. Annesley.
“No, though he expects an answer any moment. His man was instructed to send a reply by messenger as time is of the essence.”
The clock chimed the hour. William would call soon.
There was a knock on the drawing room door, bringing an end to their discussion.
Father entered the room, Chloe on his heels. “You may inform Mr. Darcy that I have taken my medicine like a good patient today. He need not waste his time on me.”
Chloe pounced on the toe of his shoe, gnawing at it until Father reached down to pick her up. “I shall buy a set of slippers just for you to chew young lady. Then, perhaps, you will leave mine alone?” he said, patting down the tuft of hair between Chloe’s ears.
She answered by licking his chin and wiggling against his chest. “As stubborn as my Lydia, you are,” he said as he departed from the room.
“He has no idea,” Elizabeth muttered.
Chapter 17
Darcy tucked the message inside his waistcoat pocket. It was not the best news, but it could be worse. He had read it so many times, he had memorized the contents.
The skies had cleared enough the dampness had finally dried out of his great coat and he did not have to ride hunched over to protect himself from the rain.
He met Mr. Hurst on his way to Longbourn, an unpleasant encounter for both men (although Darcy took pride in how well he hid it in comparison to Mr. Hurst, whose complexion deepened to a startling degree).
Darcy greeted him.
“I have been out for some time … and am on my way home,” Mr. Hurst answered gruffly, turning his horse away from Longbourn and toward Nethe
rfield Park. “Good day to you, Mr. Darcy,” he said over his shoulder, departing as quickly as he had appeared.
Perhaps it was the chill in the air or the exercise, but Darcy credited Mr. Hurst’s ruddy tone to frustration. That he wished to speak with Mr. Bennet about a matter of a confidential nature grew apparent with every disrupted attempt by Mr. Hurst to call on Mr. Bennet without observers. Mr. Hurst had revealed nothing at the picnic the week before. Until Darcy knew who intended to harm Mr. Bennet, it was best to keep callers to a minimum.
Handing his stallion over to the stable boy, the boy said, “If you please, Mr. Darcy, I have the information about which you inquired.” The boy puffed out his chest importantly and held out his hand.
Insolent fellow.
Pressing the promised coin into the boy’s hand, Darcy waited for him to speak.
“Miss Darcy asked me to check the post,” for which he was undoubtedly paid as well, thought Darcy.
The stable boy continued, “A letter arrived for her today and I gave it to her. As you instructed, I informed Mrs. Annesley of its arrival.”
“Well done. Did you recognize the letters I showed you?”
“The handwriting was nothing like yours. It looked like scratches on the paper, but I did recognize one letter. It was the second big letter you showed me.”
Using the toe of his boot, Darcy wrote an unembellished, capital “N” in the ground. “Was this the one?” With twenty-five other letters of the alphabet, Darcy prayed the odds would favor a negative answer. Then, he would not have cause for concern regarding Georgiana.
“Yes, sir. That was it … or something similar to it.” With a glance at Longbourn’s front door, which opened to let out Elizabeth, the boy said, “Is there anything else you require, sir?”
Tangled in his own thoughts, Darcy dismissed the boy before Elizabeth had reached them.
“N” for Nelson. The likelihood of it being anyone else was slim for all the trouble Georgiana went through to keep her correspondence secret. It also matched what Darcy’s man had commented about the gentleman’s handwriting. No wonder barristers employed law writers.
Elizabeth stood closely, her shoulders straight and her chin set. She watched the boy scramble into the stables away from her.
“I mean to have a word with that boy later,” she said.
“He told me what he did,” Darcy acknowledged, knowing it would not change Elizabeth’s resolve.
“From what I saw, he effectively manipulated both sides to earn extra coin. What is worse, he enabled a secret correspondence between a gentleman and an unmarried lady who is a guest in our home. Such deceit ought not be rewarded, and he will do well to learn this while he is yet young or risk losing his position.” She folded her arms, shivering in the cold.
Darcy moved upwind, shielding her from the breeze, and offered her his arm.
She tugged him to the side of the house, to a pergola held up by bare, twisted wisteria stalks.
“It is desolate and dreary now, but this is one of my favorite places in the summer,” she began, running her fingers over the vines.
Darcy imagined Elizabeth standing in the midst of a myriad purple blossoms, her silky hair curling around her smiling face, the flecks of gold sparkling brighter than the emeralds dangling from her ears and draped around her arched neck. The image left him breathless.
“What?” she asked, looking at him curiously.
“You are beautiful,” he whispered, reaching up to run a finger through a tendril of hair by her forehead. She leaned into his hand and closed her eyes.
When a droplet escaped the corner of her eye and trailed down her cheek, his heart clenched in his chest. Tenderly, he brushed her skin with the tips of his fingers.
Her eyes flew open, her eyelashes thick and black with moisture. “I apologize, William. While I am often praised for my wit, and have been fortunate enough to possess a pleasant face, I do not recall ever being told I am—” She inhaled.
“Beautiful?” he finished for her. He would tell her every day from then on.
She nodded, looking down at her hands with a scoff. “You must think me vain.”
“I think others blind.”
Elizabeth looked up and their eyes met. Arching her brow, she said, “You flatter me, sir. May I ask whether these pleasing attentions proceed from the impulse of the moment, or are they the result of previous study?”
“If I wish to compliment you, I will not hold back from it. And you know there exists no other area of study I prefer more than you. I am fully aware there remains much for me to learn, and the passing years will yield many pleasant surprises.” He leaned down and brushed his lips over her forehead. Eighteen days more and he would kiss her thoroughly.
She said raspingly, “Only eighteen days.”
Darcy chuckled. “The same thought had crossed my mind.”
Her smile faded. “Which means we only have eighteen days to determine who is against my father as well as what Mr. Nelson’s intentions are toward your sister. It shames me to admit it, but Lydia assured me Miss Darcy would never have written to him without her encouragement. What could she possibly be up to?” She chewed on her lip, adding, “Whatever it is must be big. Lydia talked of being on the front page of the papers.”
As if they did not already have enough to concern themselves. “If Georgiana is responsible for it, as Miss Lydia suggests she is, then we only need to secure her confidence to know their plans.” An elopement in the Darcy family would cause enough of a scandal to make the papers. Did Miss Lydia seek to attach herself to Georgiana and effect a double elopement and thus see her name in writing as well? Anything but that. Surely, Miss Lydia was not known for her staggering intellect, but she could not be so foolish as that … could she?
Voicing his concern aloud, Elizabeth said, “Whatever it is they are planning, I fear they aim to include each other. Lydia scoffed when I mentioned it, but she may only have done so in an attempt to throw me off her course. I still do not believe her incapable of an elopement. Miss Darcy with Mr. Nelson and Lydia with some regimental officer. They are stationed in the North and Gretna Green is not far from the camp.”
A piece of the puzzle did not fit, and Darcy shared what he had learned from his man about Mr. Nelson.
“Mr. Nelson does not seem like the sort of gentleman to act impulsively and irrationally. He is in his final year at the Inns of Court. He is a favorite amongst the senior members and stands a decent chance at being called to the bar. A move such as this would ruin his future.”
“Is he more interested in your sister’s dowry than in practicing his profession?”
“Like Wickham? No. Mr. Nelson is spoken highly of by whomever was asked.”
“Wickham, too, was well-liked.”
“True enough. However, this gentleman is respected within his chosen profession as one dedicated to the improvement of the lives of others — especially those less fortunate. He is not known to frequent establishments which would call his moral strength into question.” No gambling debts or weakness regarding loose women had been uncovered by Darcy’s man nor the knowledgeable men about town in his employ. If there was dirt to uncover about Mr. Nelson, they would have found it.
“He sounds like exactly the sort of idealistic romantic with whom a sheltered young lady ought to fall in love.” Elizabeth searched his face. “How do you feel about her attachment?”
The thick wisteria stalks felt like a wall against his shoulder as he leaned into them.
“She is so young,” he muttered, running his hand through his hair.
“Do you approve of Mr. Nelson?”
“There is nothing for me to disapprove of him. He comes from a good family. Admiral Lord Nelson is his uncle.” He paused, breathing deeply to keep his composure.
“What is it then? His lower position in society?” Elizabeth asked with a twinkle in her eye.
Darcy scoffed at the suggestion, the muscles in his face relaxing at the humor in her tone.
He did not need to keep up appearances with her. He did not need to hide his expression.
“You understand me well enough to know how little that impresses me. No, what I cannot bear is this secrecy. If they build their love on a such a shaky foundation, how can they expect to withstand the tribulations life will thrust at them?”
“Is that your only objection other than her young age?” Elizabeth asked, stepping closer to him and resting her hand on his arm, lending her support.
Darcy hated to admit it, but it was. Had Mr. Nelson been found to be anything but the responsible, upright gentleman he was, the matter would have been easier. He could have forbidden it for the sake of his sister. “I am afraid so.”
Elizabeth stroked his cheeks with her fingers. “Spoken as a beloved guardian who wishes nothing but the best for his dearest sister. Therein lies your basis for hope, William. She knows how much you love her; how carefully you protect her. Whatever you decide, it will be for her benefit. She will know it.”
His heart weighed heavily in his chest. Elizabeth’s praise only added to it. “I so badly wish to forbid it. She is too young, and while he stands out amongst his peers, he does not yet practice his profession. He cannot afford to rent more than one room. What makes him believe he could support a wife?”
Elizabeth chewed on the corner of her mouth, an adorable habit Darcy knew meant she was deep in thought. “I understand what you said earlier about him not seeming to be the type of man to elope. It is too great a risk for him if he is not motivated by money.” Her eyes widened as she tilted her head up to meet him, two earnest orbs darkened to a rich, coffee brown swirling with honey. “What do you plan to do?” she asked, her confidence that he had a plan firming Darcy’s resolve.
“I must keep Georgiana’s trust while delaying her plans. After giving the matter a great deal of thought, I believe it best for me to travel to London and meet with Mr. Nelson. I will determine his intentions and lay the appropriate boundaries. If he is reasonable, I will permit him to court Georgiana openly once she is has made her debut … on the understanding they not act without my permission.”
