Mistaken

by Jessie Lewis

  “That depends very much on her. I never would have used to think so, but we have shared very few confidences of late.”

  His smile faded, and his frown returned. He stood up. “I shall not have you distressed, Elizabeth. I shall put them off coming.”

  “There is no need for that! Besides, ’tis too late. They will be here in a matter of hours.”

  He was evidently uneasy with the arrangement but conceded there was nothing to be done about it. She mollified him somewhat by agreeing to see the apothecary before their guests arrived.

  “You summon him while I eat my breakfast,” she suggested.

  “Breakfast? You have just been violently ill!”

  She stood up and shrugged. “I feel better now. And rather hungry.”

  He shook his head, smiling with incredulity. “It grieves me that you must suffer in this way, but if you mean to carry it off with such éclat, I think I shall bear it almost as well as you.”

  A burst of laughter erupted from her lips. Oh, how she loved him!

  He left to make the necessary arrangements, though not before placing the most tender of kisses upon her forehead and reiterating how very precious she was to him. She sat down to a breakfast sans eggs, reflecting that, after such a happy beginning, she felt eminently more sanguine about the day ahead.

  ***

  “There it is!” Caroline exclaimed.

  Jane opened her eyes and looked out of the window. What she saw, by contrast, lent the lodgings from which she had departed hours earlier all the proportions of a doll’s house. She had considered Elizabeth’s mentions of Pemberley in her letters somewhat boastful, but it would seem her sister, in fact, had been rather circumspect in her descriptions. The house was palatial.

  “Now that is a welcome sight,” Caroline continued. “What an improvement to coaching inns and hotels.”

  “Is there anything about this trip that you have actually enjoyed, Caroline?” Bingley enquired with uncommon asperity. “I wonder that you agreed to come at all.”

  “My apologies, Charles,” she replied with negligible contrition. “But I confess I have had my fill of inferior lodgings and unappetising food.”

  “The sooner we arrive, the better then for all our sakes!”

  They traversed the rest of the implausibly long drive in silence. Jane assiduously avoided all thoughts of her husband’s eagerness to get to the house and concentrated instead on Lady Ashby’s counsel to enjoy Pemberley and avoid any contention.

  The Darcys awaited them at the foot of a grand set of stairs at the front of the house. Elizabeth had a hand raised to shield her eyes from the sun and was peering towards the carriage. Jane waved, and her sister broke into her customary, broad smile that was all the more welcome for the three weeks Jane had spent visiting strangers. For a moment, Elizabeth was Lizzy again and nothing else mattered—’til the horses stopped and Bingley sprang from the carriage, issuing typically effusive greetings and leaving a footman to hand Jane and Caroline down.

  “I am very glad you are come, Jane,” Elizabeth said to her after they had embraced. “It is wonderful to see you.”

  Her feelings in disarray, it was all Jane could do to smile at her.

  “Welcome to Pemberley,” came Mr. Darcy’s sonorous greeting.

  Jane felt a small frisson of alarm upon meeting his gaze. He regarded her with peculiar intensity, his expression not cold precisely but with little of the welcome his words professed.

  “Thank you,” she replied, thoroughly disconcerted.

  “I trust your journey was agreeable?”

  “Perfectly so, I thank you.”

  “You say so only because you were able to nap, Jane dearest,” Caroline interrupted. “I shall not be so obedient, Mr. Darcy, but shall declare that it was a perfectly horrid journey, too hot and too long by half. We are all excessively fatigued.”

  “I am sorry to hear that, Miss Bingley.”

  Elizabeth assured them there was plenty of time to rest before dinner and ushered them all into the house. The hall into which they walked was magnificent and as large as Longbourn. Jane could not help but gape at the grandeur.

  “How do you like Pemberley then, Jane?” Bingley enquired, loudly enough that everyone was included in awaiting her answer.

  “It is a very fine house, though I have not seen much of it yet.”

  “Should you like a tour before dinner?” Elizabeth enquired. “I shall endeavour not to get us lost.”

  “An excellent idea!” Bingley answered for them all. “May I join you?”

  “Of course! Though I cannot imagine I will be able to tell you any more than you have already heard from Mrs. Reynolds.”

  “Sshh!” Bingley implored dramatically. “Say no more, lest my impertinence be found out!”

  Oh, my sister and husband have a private joke. How wonderful.

  “Too late, Bingley, you are already discovered,” Mr. Darcy said.

  Bingley clutched at his heart with both hands. “Lizzy! You have betrayed me! How could you?”

  “It could not be avoided, I am afraid. I am allowed no secrets,” Elizabeth replied, glancing coyly at her husband before indicating they should all follow her upstairs.

  Bingley frowned between them both but nonetheless came towards Jane. “Shall we?”

  Jane smiled wearily and took his proffered arm.

  “Here we are then,” he said, quietly this time. “It is impressive, is it not?”

  “It certainly is.”

  “You will like it here, I think. I hope. It is much more comfortable, much grander than…well—that is, I know Caroline has disdained our accommodation on this trip. I apologise if you have been disappointed. I procured the finest lodgings available with your comfort in mind.”

  “Oh, that is very thoughtful. And they were! Fine, that is. Thank you.”

  “Of course! Nothing but the best for Mrs. Bingley.”

  Such solicitude was of vast comfort to Jane’s distrustful heart. When he leant closer, it fluttered in anticipation of what further assurances of his esteem he might bestow.

  “Do you think your sister looks a little pale?”

  It was extremely fortunate Caroline had made such a show of declaring them all fatigued, for it excused Jane from any curiosity as to the peculiarly lengthy amount of time she took to overcome her pique at this remark. She eventually left her room so late there was time enough for only a truncated tour of the principal rooms before dinner. Through seven courses, she then listened to everyone’s raptures for the proposed round of picnics, phaeton rides, fishing, hunting, luncheons, cards, music, and more that Elizabeth had planned. None of it persuaded Jane that the week ahead would not feel an eternity to her.

  ***

  Saturday, 5 September 1812: Derbyshire

  Elizabeth was true to her word. There was scarcely a moment over the next three days that was not taken up with some entertainment or other. Saturday heralded the first idle morning of Jane’s visit, and she and Caroline were enjoying the balmy summer air in a room whose French windows opened onto a pretty lawn.

  The gentlemen had left for a spot of shooting, and later that afternoon, the ladies, joined by some others from the neighbourhood, planned to picnic by the lake. Ever somewhat anxious of meeting new people, Jane enquired of her sister whether she was acquainted with any of those due to attend. Caroline replied she had met Mrs. Castleton but not her daughter, whom she did not believe was yet out.

  “Yes, that is as Lizzy said. She hopes Miss Castleton and Miss Darcy will become better acquainted now they have both finished school and will be in the country more often.”

  “It must be a relief to know there are some families in the neighbourhood willing to overlook how far beneath his sphere Mr. Darcy has married,” Caroline repli
ed.

  At that moment, the door opened, and Elizabeth herself joined them. Jane glanced at Caroline in alarm lest they had been overheard, but Elizabeth exhibited no sign of it. She was occupied ushering someone into the room—a young girl in scruffy apparel with a mane of unkempt hair around her unwashed face. The child’s expression was one of utter disbelief as she looked about the room. Caroline’s countenance, Jane noticed, was not much different as she looked at the child.

  “This is my sister, Mrs. Bingley. And this is Miss Bingley,” Elizabeth said, pointing to each of them in turn. “Bess is one of our tenants. She got separated from her brothers coming back from Lambton this morning. I found her wandering near the kitchen gardens, quite lost.”

  “So…you brought her inside?” Caroline said incredulously.

  Elizabeth pressed her lips together and remained silent for a moment longer than was polite. “She is but five years old, Miss Bingley, and frightened. And since it was my ambushing her from behind the lavender that reduced the poor girl to tears, it was the least I could do to offer her some comfort.” To Bess, she added, “We are to have some chocolate to cheer you up, are we not?”

  The little girl nodded but still did not smile. Indeed, to Jane’s eye, she looked veritably terrified, no doubt as undesirous of being above stairs as Caroline was to have her there.

  “Lizzy, I see that you mean well, but might it not be better to have Bess attended to in the servant’s quarters?”

  Elizabeth looked at her sharply.

  “Allow me to recommend you heed your sister’s advice,” Caroline cut in. “Your…generosity, far from being viewed with the appreciation for which I am sure you are striving, will much more likely scandalise the entire household.”

  “You must not concern yourself for my household, madam,” Elizabeth replied and looked as though she might have said more had not the entrance of servants with refreshments forestalled it.

  The little girl’s eyes could not have opened any wider when she beheld the selection of cakes set before her. Jane found the length of time she took to choose one, assessing each with close scrutiny, remarkably endearing. At Elizabeth’s request, the child gabbled an animated account of how she had come to be lost, spraying crumbs every-whither as she spoke. Jane could not help but smile despite Caroline’s indignant disgust. Before very long, however, Elizabeth remarked that the child’s family must be worried and that it was time for her to return home.

  “But I don’t know the way from ’ere,” the girl whimpered.

  “I shall not send you off alone,” Elizabeth assured her. After peering briefly from the window, she added, “Indeed, I shall see you back myself. A walk would be delightful in this weather. Will either of you join us?” she enquired, looking at Jane and Caroline.

  There was a pause; then Caroline answered very slowly as though speaking to a simpleton. “You wish us to accompany you on foot to what I can only presume is a farmyard?”

  “Pardon me,” Elizabeth replied, her tone even but her eyes flinty. “I recall now you are not fond of walking. Of course you must not feel obliged. Jane, will you come? Bullscroft is but a few miles away.”

  “Well…” Jane faltered when Caroline rolled her eyes. “Think you it is quite proper, Lizzy? Ought you not send her with a footman?”

  “I assume your answer is no,” Elizabeth replied coldly.

  Jane could think of nothing to say that would not displease one of her sisters; thus, she said nothing. Elizabeth stood and beckoned for the child to do likewise. “Then I shall leave you both in peace.”

  “I suppose we ought to be grateful she did not decide to bring the little wretch to the picnic,” Caroline said after they were gone. “I doubt Mr. Darcy’s neighbours would be quite that forbearing.”

  Jane shivered, though whether from the gust of wind that blew in from the garden or the vague and unwelcome sense of guilt, she could not be sure. She asked a servant to close the French doors and excused herself from further conversation to read a book. After four chapters, she began to wish she had joined Elizabeth on her walk, but she was saved from her ennui when Miss Darcy arrived, looking for her sister.

  “She walked out,” Miss Bingley informed her. “She ought to be back soon, for she must have left an hour ago, and we all know what an excellent walker she is.”

  Miss Darcy appeared troubled by this, and the reason soon became clear. It was raining and had apparently been raining for above quarter of an hour. As though to mock Jane for not noticing, the heavens then lit up, and an almighty clap of thunder filled the air, a detonation that was further punctuated by the banging of the saloon door against the wall as it was thrown open to admit the gentlemen, returned precipitately from their sport.

  “We have been rained off!” Bingley cried, shaking droplets from his hair. “Deuced storm blew in from nowhere!”

  “And Lizzy is out in it!” Miss Darcy cried.

  Mr. Darcy halted mid-stride, his entire carriage stiffening in alarm. “Why? Where has she gone?”

  After sending Jane a fleeting look of triumph, Caroline relayed to him the events of the morning. Jane glanced at Bingley, then away again, ere the picture of his distress could lodge in her mind. To her consternation, when Mr. Darcy announced his intention to ride out and escort Elizabeth home, Bingley offered to join him.

  “No, I thank you, that is not necessary,” his friend replied. “She will be almost home by now. I beg you would entertain the ladies in my absence. I shall not be long.”

  Then, he was gone, and there was no more argument to be had on the matter. Miss Darcy also excused herself to arrange for a hot bath to be drawn for her sister. Thus, in no time at all, only Bingleys remained in the saloon, the male of which drifted to the window to stare at the rain. “I sincerely hope she is almost home. It would be most unfortunate were she to take ill.”

  Jane told herself good manners made his concern necessary. Such she had been telling herself for most of the visit. Whenever he laughed at one of Elizabeth’s jokes, showed interest in any of her pursuits, or expressed gratitude for her hospitality, it was all attributable to common courtesy. That did not stop her wishing Elizabeth would tell less diverting jokes, have less interesting pursuits, or be a less entertaining hostess.

  “She has greater things with which to concern herself than the possibility of catching a cold,” Caroline scoffed.

  Bingley turned to face her. “Such as?”

  “Such as her respectability. I have said before that her behaviour shows a shocking indifference to decorum.”

  “And I have said before that it shows a level of affection for others that is very pleasing.”

  “You have?” Jane enquired, but she was ignored.

  “Charles, you astound me,” Caroline said. “Surely, even you can comprehend the injury such wilful gaucherie will do to her reputation?”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, Caroline, she went for a walk. Sometimes, I declare you are more fastidious than Darcy.”

  “Am I? I thought he would spit when he heard she had brought the girl into the house.”

  Bingley flinched. Jane was sure of it.

  “Nonsense. Darcy was only concerned that Elizabeth might be caught in the rain.” He must not have convinced himself, for soon after, he added, “Think you it was her other activities that displeased him?”

  At last, a chink had appeared in Elizabeth’s armour where Bingley might actually see it. “It certainly seemed so,” Jane said quietly, which only increased Bingley’s disquiet, thereby exacerbating her own umbrage and provoking her to say more. “We must not blame him. Mr. Darcy has been very kind to indulge Lizzy’s disregard for propriety this long, but he has a right to expect his wife to comport herself properly—as other wives take the trouble to do for their husbands.”

  “Well said, my dear,” Caroline interjecte
d. She turned to her brother. “But I hardly think it would be well-advised for us to dwell on the Darcys’ marriage.”

  A look passed between them that Jane could not interpret. Moments later, Bingley backed into the nearest chair and crossed his arms. “What would you have us discuss, Caroline?”

  “You had best keep to the weather, Charles. It is safest.”

  Fortunately for all, the weather seemed intent on providing them with as much to talk about as it could with its blustering winds and sporadic thunder and lightning—even, when the conversation looked to be flagging, throwing in a brief bout of hail for extra measure. No further mention of Elizabeth’s impropriety, or anyone’s opinion of it, was made as they waited with various degrees of anxiety for their hosts’ return.

  ***

  Bullscroft farm was a little over two miles from Pemberley. Alone and in good weather, Elizabeth might ordinarily have walked there and back within an hour. With Powell’s daughter in tow, who was but five or six years old if Darcy’s memory served him correctly, he supposed he could add half an hour to that. Even so, she ought to have returned by now, but she had not. The danger of a fever to her and the baby terrified him, but the farther he went without finding her, the more concerned he became that something even more serious had befallen her, for she was nowhere to be seen.

  His alarm reached new heights when he came to the Rush, a ford so named for the sudden violent currents that arose there after heavy rain, rendering the otherwise easy crossing treacherous. As he feared, the water gushed ferociously, shin-high over the stone crossing. He could see no sign she had come to harm there, but it gave him no relief, for it then became just another place that Elizabeth was not. “Curse it, woman. Do not do this to me!”

  When he came within view of the farmstead with still no sign of her, he gave in to a moment’s panic. Acknowledging that a greater search effort was required, he urged his horse on faster to the house, where he might summon assistance. A child within yelped when he hammered on the door, but there was no room in his thundering heart for contrition. He had not a moment to lose. Too slowly, his knock was answered, and Mrs. Powell opened the door.