Fortunately, I was rescued by my darling Pratt, two colonels, and that awful Mr. Darcy. It was very exciting, but at the time I was so upset about Wickham that I didn’t really appreciate what was happening. Now that I’m married, I don’t suppose I’ll get the opportunity for any more daring rescues in my life. Isn’t that a sad thought?
Elizabeth closed her eyes in silent supplication. Sad thought indeed. If Lydia dared do anything so foolish again, she didn’t deserve a daring rescue.
You’ll never believe it but Pratt, you know, the quiet one who hardly ever danced with either of us, he came to me and told me that he’s always loved me and that he was sorry that Wickham was so disrespectful of me. He said he wanted to protect me so I would never need to be rescued again.
Isn’t that romantic? Who knew? I mean, of course I always suspected he liked me, all officers do, but I had no idea of how much he cared. He said he wanted to marry me, but thought it was too soon for me to marry him, since I would need time to recover from Mr. Wickham’s betrayal. My dear sweet Pratt said that if I agreed to marry him, he would wait until I was sure I was doing the right thing.
Then Harriet Forster came in, interrupting us. She sent Pratt away, but I quickly said yes, so he would return. She is no fun at all anymore, Kitty. You’re lucky you aren’t here with her. She lectured me endlessly about how I was ruined and how ungrateful I was. She said I would be sent home in disgrace and, if she had her way, I would be treated like a child and not allowed to go to dances or anything until all of my sisters were married. When I told her that no one would want to marry Mary, she said, “Good. Maybe by the time you are thirty your father will let you attend dances.”
I was so upset, I started to cry. I didn’t want to do it, but I couldn’t help it. You should have seen the smug smile on her face. It was horrible. I was glad when she left.
Later, Papa came and said he gave Pratt permission to marry me if I agreed. He said he was a little reluctant, because I was too young to marry. He thought I should stop attending parties and spend my days helping around the house and learning accomplishments. I told him I was not too young. I said I would marry Pratt immediately if I had a chance. Papa said, “Don’t be silly. It will take weeks.”
Of course, that only made me angry with him. I am not silly, nor am I a child. I proved that to all of them when I married my Pratt.
You see, the next morning Pratt came to me and told me he had a special license! I asked him how he got it and he said that a man who is eager can accomplish a lot. He said he wanted to marry me right away in case Papa changed his mind.
We got married that very morning! We showed Papa he was wrong. I’m the youngest and now I’m married first. If I go back to Longbourn, when we go to dinner, Jane must go lower, because I am a married woman. And now I can sign with my new name!
Your loving sister,
Lydia Pratt
Elizabeth folded the letter. A smiled played over her lips. It had all been very neatly done, getting Lydia to wed. She wondered who had put such a clever plot together. It was too convoluted for her father and too manipulative for Mr. Darcy. She didn’t know Colonel Fitzwilliam, Pratt, Colonel Forster or Mrs. Forster well enough to estimate which of them was likely to have concocted the scheme.
“I take it all is well?” Anne asked, looking up from her book.
“Lydia was rescued from Mr. Wickham and has wed a Mr. Pratt,” Elizabeth said.
“Is this Pratt a good man?” Anne asked.
“I don’t know much about Mr. Pratt,” Elizabeth admitted. She hadn’t paid the officers much attention, unlike her younger sisters. “I’m pleased that at least she didn’t marry Wickham.”
“Pratt was always rather quiet,” Kitty said. “He attended parties, but he always seemed to have more duties than the other officers and he didn’t dance much. I’m glad Lydia is married. Isn’t it lucky there was someone else who loved her so much he was willing to overlook her running away with Mr. Wickham? Why, Pratt must have not danced with her often because he was worshipping her from afar.” Kitty let out a sigh, her eyes full of proverbial stars.
Elizabeth exchanged an amused glance with Anne, giving a little shake of her head to indicate she didn’t see any reason to disabuse Kitty of her romantic notions.
“Yes,” Anne murmured. “It is lucky indeed. Speaking of luck, Elizabeth, could you retrieve the envelope on my writing desk and read what’s in it? It pertains to you.”
Elizabeth frowned, but went to find the page, returning Lydia’s letter to Kitty on her way. She opened the envelope on Anne’s desk. Seeing that it was from a bank, she quickly averted her eyes.
“It doesn’t pertain to me,” Elizabeth said. “Perhaps I should look somewhere else?”
“I think you’ll find it does pertain to you,” Anne said.
“It’s from a bank,” Elizabeth said.
“That is correct. Read it.”
A brief perusal showed it was indeed from a bank. The salutation was not addressed to Anne, however, but rather to Elizabeth. It was a statement claiming she had three hundred pounds in an account with them.
“I thought we agreed I was staying here as your friend,” Elizabeth protested, realizing this was the one hundred pounds a month Anne had offered her, which she’d refused.
“And as your friend, I have given you that,” Anne said.
Elizabeth glanced at Kitty, whose eyes were full of curiosity for the exchange. It was clever of Anne to bring up the subject now, in the parlor. She knew Elizabeth wouldn’t want to speak too openly with a witness. “I really cannot take this, though it’s very kind of you.”
“I’m afraid you have no choice,” Anne said. “The account is in your name. I have no rights to it.”
“What is it?” Kitty asked.
“I wasn’t even able to accomplish the task you set me,” Elizabeth said, for she hadn’t managed to keep Anne from sending most of the staff scurrying away.
“Yes, but you stayed on and put things back together after my mistake.”
Footsteps in the hall forestalled Elizabeth’s reply. A maid came into the room. “A Mr. Bennet and Mr. Darcy, miss,” she said to Anne before bowing and backing away to allow the two to enter.
Elizabeth quickly folded the paper detailing her account and put it in her pocket. She shot a look at Anne that was meant to convey that they would revisit the subject at a later time. She turned back to see Mr. Darcy following her father into the parlor and had to suppress a sigh. Mr. Darcy looked even more handsome than the last time she saw him. Pulling her eyes from his, she hurried to her father.
“Papa,” she said, briefly embracing him. “Mr. Darcy,” she added with a curtsy.
“Papa,” Kitty greeted as she too hugged their father. “Mr. Darcy, how fine to see you again so soon.” She curtsied.
Elizabeth hid a smile, taking in the surprise on her father’s face. Kitty hadn’t run, or squealed. Her tones were cultured and her curtsy flawless.
“Miss Elizabeth, Miss Kitty,” Mr. Darcy said. He bowed. “Mr. Bennet, may I introduce my cousin, Miss de Bourgh.”
“You have a splendid home, Miss de Bourgh,” Elizabeth’s father said. “Thank you for allowing my daughters to stay with you.”
Anne didn’t stand, but she did smile. “It is I who should thank you, sir, for the loan of them. You are welcome here as well.”
“Thank you,” her father said. “It’s a generous offer, but I shall not trouble you. I have been invited to stay with a Mr. Whitaker.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Elizabeth saw Kitty blush.
“Please excuse my manners, but I would be much obliged if I might borrow Elizabeth for a short time? There are some matters of family I must discuss with her,” her father continued.
“Of course,” Anne said. “Mrs. Allen will be joining us momentarily. Kitty and I shall do quite nicely with her and Mr. Darcy for company. Won’t we, Kitty?”
“Yes Miss de Bourgh,” Kitty said. Amazingly, her to
ne wasn’t even sullen. She turned to Elizabeth. “You should show Papa where we like to walk. The views are splendid.”
“I’ll get my bonnet,” Elizabeth said. “If you’ll excuse me Mr. Darcy, Miss de Bourgh, Kitty. I’ll meet you in the foyer, Papa.” She dropped a curtsy and hurried away.
Elizabeth hoped no one could tell how much it was affecting her to have Mr. Darcy near. He, of course, looked completely unperturbed, while she was embarrassingly elated to see him again. It wouldn’t do for anyone to notice. She all but ran to her room.
After composing herself, Elizabeth met her father in the foyer and led the way outside. Once they were a bit away from the house, he gave her his version of what had transpired in Brighton. It was more detailed and, Elizabeth suspected, a good deal more accurate than Lydia’s.
“It was cleverly done,” Elizabeth said once he was finished. “Who was the mastermind?”
“In ensuring Wickham boarded that ship, Mr. Darcy,” her father said. “In seeing Lydia wed, Pratt.”
“Kitty has a very romantic version of what happened.”
“And she shall keep it. What I’ve told you goes no further. Secrets aren’t kept by telling more people.”
Elizabeth nodded. There was no one she wished to tell. Mr. Darcy already knew the whole of it. “I’m glad that Lydia didn’t marry Wickham.”
“Pratt will be a much better husband than Wickham would have been,” her father agreed.
“You met Mr. Whitaker before coming here?” Elizabeth asked.
Her father nodded. “Mr. Darcy was kind enough to stop there first, though he seemed eager to arrive here.” He glanced at her askance.
Elizabeth kept her face composed. “What did you think of Mr. Whitaker?”
“I’m surprised Kitty has caught someone so sensible and eligible. Mrs. Bennet will be delighted.”
“Delighted that he’s sensible?” she couldn’t resist asking.
His eyes smiled but he didn’t reply. They walked in silence for a moment. Elizabeth realized they were nearing the spot where she and Mr. Darcy had spoken so intimately and turned them down a different trail. She didn’t wish to walk there again unless she could be alone with her memories or beside the man who’d helped create them.
Her mind returned to the discussion she and Anne had been having when her father and Mr. Darcy arrived. She frowned. “I have a problem that I am not sure how to handle,” she said.
“You? Have a problem you can’t handle?”
“Your implied vote of confidence is noted, but it’s true,” she said. “When Miss de Bourgh first asked me to stay she offered me a hundred pounds a month. I said I wouldn’t take it and she appeared to agree with me. I discovered a short time ago that she’s deposited three hundred pounds in a bank account under my name.”
“You have been here three months,” he said.
“She gave me a piece of paper with the bank’s name. She said she couldn’t get the money out of the account so she has no way to take it back. She tricked me into getting my signature.” Elizabeth spoke that as she realized it, her mind going back to all of the letters Anne had asked her to write, all the signatures she’d signed on page after page of them.
“I fail to see the problem,” her father said. “I know you aren’t accustomed to the idea of earning money, and I know that you feel it is too much, but she trusted you. Did you ever betray that trust?”
“Of course not.”
“If she’d hired a stranger to do what you did, it might have cost her much more than three hundred pounds.”
Elizabeth thought about that. Even with Darcy there, a stranger might have taken money from the housekeeping funds. Darcy was too concerned with the farm to pay that much attention to the house and his first choice of housekeeper hadn’t turned out well. She didn’t even wish to imagine what could have happened if Miss de Bourgh had given an unscrupulous person the same authority she’d bestowed on Elizabeth. “I can see how an untrustworthy person could have done great harm.”
“Good. Now, it is my belief that you should be rewarded for what you’ve done here, so this is what we will do. In a few days, you and Kitty will return home with me.”
Elizabeth blinked. Home . . . she did want to go home, didn’t she? She missed Jane, and her home. Mr. Darcy had only just returned, though. If she left now, would she ever see him again? She swallowed. Her throat somehow seemed very tight.
“On our way back, we’ll stop in London to see the Gardiners,” her father was saying.
Elizabeth seized on his words. She needed something to focus on instead of the panic building inside her at the idea of never seeing Mr. Darcy again. Surly, that wouldn’t be the case? He must want to see her, and if Darcy wanted something, he would accomplish it.
“You and I will go to the bank together,” her father said. “You will withdraw however much money you want to spend. You aren’t yet of age but I will make it plain to the bank that it is your money and you can withdraw it as you wish.”
“Withdraw? For what?”
“Whatever you like,” her father said, casting her a smile. “I must swear you to secrecy, for I can’t have your sisters, and especially your mother, knowing about the money Miss de Bourgh has given you. However, you deserve some sort of reward for the work you’ve done. If you make a purchase on the way home, people will assume the item was a gift from Miss de Bourgh, or that the money used to buy it was.”
Elizabeth nodded. “Anything I wish? You mean, a towering pile of novels, or a huge, gaudy, expensive hat?”
Her father eyed her, looking a bit nervous.
“What about an account book for mother?” she asked, making her eyes wide and innocent.
He narrowed his gaze. “Now I know for certain you jest.”
“I know,” Elizabeth said. “I shall buy my dear sister Lydia a very plain, conservative frock as a wedding gift.”
They filled the walk back to the house with talk of possible purchases; frivolous, ridiculous and wise. Elizabeth realized she could get almost as much enjoyment out of imaginary purchases as real ones. She resolved that when it came to it, she wouldn’t take out any of the money. It was much more sensible to leave it where it was.
The following day as she was getting ready to leave, Elizabeth bemoaned that she hadn’t found a moment to speak quietly with Mr. Darcy. She didn’t have anything in mind to talk with him about, but had missed their conversations greatly in his absence. She tried to maintain her typical cheerful demeanor, but she was tormented by the idea of never seeing him again.
Sitting on the edge of her bed, looking around the room she’d spent the last three months in, Elizabeth felt a wave of sorrow. The space looked cold and empty to her, with her things packed away and even then being carried down and loaded into Mr. Whitaker’s carriage. She’d hoped, somehow, that Mr. Darcy would offer to take them to London, but there was no reason for him to accompany them and every reason for Mr. Whitaker to.
Elizabeth did want to go home, but she had the feeling it would be strange to be there. She wasn’t leaving Rosings quite the same person she’d been when she arrived. She’d never in her life held so many secrets. Darcy’s proposal, his role in separating Bingley and Jane, the money she had in the bank, Pratt’s manipulation of Lydia; it all seemed like a lot to hold inside.
Trying to shake off her disquiet, she stood and made her way to the foyer, where Anne, Mrs. Allen and Kitty waited.
“Elizabeth,” Anne said. “Please do return whenever you like. I shall miss you terribly. Here, take this.” She pressed a ten pound note into Elizabeth’s hands.
“Thank you,” Elizabeth said. She was about to try to return it when she saw the amusement in Anne’s eyes. “I shall miss you as well, Miss de Bourgh.”
“Farewell, dear,” Mrs. Allen said.
“Good bye Mrs. Allen.”
“Good by Miss de Bourgh,” Kitty said. She flung her arms around Anne with a little sob.
While Anne and Mrs. Allen set abou
t trying to comfort Kitty, the former giving her ten pounds as well, Elizabeth turned to Mr. Darcy.
“Mr. Darcy,” she said. “I . . .” She could think of nothing proper to say. I don’t want this to be the last time I ever see you, she thought, wishing that somehow he could see it in her eyes.
“Miss Bennet,” he said. “It is my hope that we shall meet again before long.”
She nodded, curtsying. She didn’t want to read overmuch into his statement, but it filled her with hope.
“Papa is waiting, Lizzy,” Kitty said, apparently recovered from her surge of grief. “Good bye Mr. Darcy.”
“Miss Kitty,” he said, bowing to them both.
If Kitty hadn’t taken her arm and tugged her away, Elizabeth wasn’t sure she would have managed to leave. Then, in a flurry of skirts, they were out the door.
“That was ever so nice of her,” Kitty whispered as they headed down the steps. “Now she’s given me two-hundred and sixty pounds.”
Elizabeth almost tripped, turning startled eyes toward Kitty.
“She gave me two-hundred and fifty as a wedding gift. Isn’t that fabulous of her? I love Miss de Bourgh. I’ve never known anyone so nice.”
Before Elizabeth could organize her thoughts, which centered around not feeling as bad for keeping the three hundred pounds if Kitty was to be given nearly as much simply for reading, they were ensconced in Mr. Whitaker’s coach. This necessitated a round of greetings between them and their father and Mr. Whitaker, including the necessary polite complements to his conveyance and thankfulness for the use of it. By the time Elizabeth was able to turn away and look back, the door to Rosings was closed.
Chapter Seventeen
Darcy left two weeks after the Bennets, after finally finding a competent housekeeper. The man he assigned to run the farm was one of those who had returned, allowing Darcy to leave it with confidence. Anne had fully recovered and gotten through the three-month period of heavy mourning, which meant other visitors started calling. Anne let it be known she was ‘at home’ only for a few hours a day. The rest of the time, she spent reading from her increasingly large pile of books.
A Death at Rosings: A Pride & Prejudice Variation Page 16
