The Dread Mr. Darcy

by Valerie Lennox

  “It was just good luck, I suppose,” Kitty was saying. “Bolton got the invitation just as I got the letter from Mary. She tried to make it out as if you were requesting something wicked, Lizzy, but I told her that you were probably just desirous of some country air. Lord knows how long it will be until Jane retires to Netherfield, and it would be horrid to stay with Mary and Collins.” Kitty shuddered. “So, of course you inquired about getting away. I’m only happy Bolton and I could help.”

  “Yes,” said Elizabeth. “Thank you both.”

  “We only wish we could do more for you,” said Kitty, giving her a pitying look. “Bolton and I always so wished that your trip to India would have worked out.”

  “Yes,” said Bolton. “I personally have never thought there was a thing wrong with you, Miss Bennet.”

  Kitty reached across the carriage and swatted her husband’s leg. “Mr. Bolton! What a thing to say.”

  Elizabeth sighed. Sometimes Kitty sounded so much like their mother that it was disturbing.

  After the conversation between them all had died down, Elizabeth stared out the window at the passing scenery, thinking that everything she had done had been worth it if it meant that she would get to see Darcy again. She could not understand this longing that she felt. It was deep, like the sea that had surrounded them when they had first met, boundless on all sides, stretching out to the horizon, and descending down too far to fathom.

  It was huge. It terrified her.

  What had she done? She had thrown everything topsy-turvy to get to a man who might want nothing to do with her.

  Still, she had to do it.

  This was the only thing that she had felt in so long that made her feel as if she was… well, a human being, truly. She had been shoved aside, put on the shelf, and she had not realized how much it had taken away from her to squelch all her desires.

  Now that she was flooded with longing again, she had come back to life, and she was hurtling forward through her life at a reckless speed. Maybe she was going to crash, to break into smithereens. She didn’t know. But even though the course she had set for herself was a risky one, she wouldn’t choose another one.

  Sometimes, risk was worth it.

  Even if it meant that after all this was over, she lost everything.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  They arrived at Rosings in the late afternoon, and spent the next hour settling into their rooms and dressing for dinner. Kitty had brought her maid Cecily along with her, and she said that she would happily share Cecily with Elizabeth.

  Cecily thought the house quite grand, as she told Elizabeth when she came to help Elizabeth get ready for dinner. The maid chattered away that she should get lost ten times before she found her way and would they be here for long and was Elizabeth happy to be out of town?

  Elizabeth was lucky to have Cecily. That evening, Cecily curled and coiffed her hair with such perfection and sophistication that Elizabeth could have kissed her. She wanted to look as lovely as possible for Darcy, and Cecily had done it for her without Elizabeth even having to ask.

  There was no chance of sitting next to Darcy at dinner. He was ranked too much higher than she, and he was the cousin of the woman of the house. Still, Elizabeth hoped to catch his eye.

  But when she came down to the parlor, she saw that he was in one of the easy chairs, his head drooping. He looked barely able to keep his eyes open.

  She felt alarm course through her. Was he feeling ill?

  And then she remembered the laudanum bottle he seemed to have on him at all times.

  Anne knelt next to him, talking to him in a quiet voice.

  Suddenly, he sat up straight, shaking his head at her vigorously. He pinched his cheeks, blinked hard several times, and then stood up.

  Elizabeth wanted to approach him, but before she could, Kitty was there, asking Elizabeth about the latest fashions and the balls in town. “Bolton says we shall come to town next Season, of course,” Kitty said. “If there was any way we could have been there this year, we would have been.”

  Darcy noticed her. He locked eyes with her from across the room. He raised his glass slightly, his lips curving into a smile.

  * * *

  “Well, yes, that was India for you,” said Elizabeth to the gathering of ladies, all of whom were watching her with marked interest. It was after dinner in the drawing room, and Kitty had mentioned to the other women that Elizabeth had spent some time in India. They were all asking questions of her. All the men were off having brandy, so it was just her and the women here.

  “Miss Bennet, I never knew you had such stories,” said Anne de Bourgh. “When you called on me in London, you were always so quiet.”

  “I suppose I am shy,” said Elizabeth.

  Anne snorted. “Hardly, Miss Bennet. Is this really true, though? This Miss Hastings was so bold as to swat that tiger in the mouth?”

  “Oh, indeed,” said Elizabeth, who had actually made the story up on the spot. Possibly, it was the influence of Darcy rubbing off on her. He was the one who had made up a different story at every port. “And it was a lucky thing she did, because if she hadn’t, the tiger might have eaten us all, you know. They are vicious predators, and they like prey exactly our size. I think, however, that when Miss Hastings went over and swatted it, she showed dominance over it, and that was what scared it away. We were all so relieved when it ran off.”

  “Why, she saved your lives,” said Kitty.

  “Yes, she did, but she swore us all to secrecy,” said Elizabeth.

  “Whatever for?” said Anne.

  “Well, you must remember that we were all trying to catch husbands at the time,” said Elizabeth. “She didn’t want the story to get out for fear that some man should hear it and not think her feminine enough.”

  Kitty nodded slowly. “I suppose I understand that.”

  “Yes, she thought that a man would want a woman who needed his protection, not one who could take care of herself,” said Elizabeth. “Even today, I’m sure if you asked her about it, she would deny that it ever happened. And she swore me to secrecy, so mustn’t tell her I told you. She would be furious with me.”

  Another of the women laughed. “Oh, I see. Well, we promise you that we shall keep your secret then.”

  “Thank you,” said Elizabeth.

  “Was it always like that?” asked one of the other women. “Was it always so dangerous? Tigers running into your bedroom?”

  “No, not always,” said Elizabeth. “It was… hot. Dreadfully hot, all the time. And there were awful insects. But the food—oh, the food was delicious, all the spices and the sauces. And the music was lovely. And the people… All in all, it’s a wonderful country. I did love it there. I would have gladly stayed as well if I’d been able to find a husband. But alas, that was not to be.”

  All of the women looked at her with sympathy.

  Elizabeth turned away, wishing she hadn’t said anything of the sort. She was suddenly taken over by a wave of fierce emotion, and she found she didn’t like it much. She couldn’t let that show in front of everyone. It would be most improper. So, she quickly changed the subject. “There was another tiger that we saw often, but this one was a sort of pet.”

  “A pet tiger?” Anne put her hand on her chest.

  “Yes, it had a mangled paw, and it had been abandoned as a cub. One of the swamis raised it himself, and it followed him everywhere. It was quite tame.” This was, in fact, true. Elizabeth remembered petting the tiger’s smooth coat. It had been silky under her fingertips.

  “A tame tiger? How amazing,” said one of the women, smiling. “Do go on, Miss Bennet.”

  * * *

  Elizabeth had done her job too well, she was afraid. She shouldn’t have made up such interesting stories, because she’d been the center of attention for the rest of the evening, and she’d had no chance whatsoever to talk to Darcy or even to look at him.

  She wasn’t even sure what had become of him after dinner. She hadn’t s
een him anywhere. He could have been there all along, though. She had been so involved in telling India stories that she wouldn’t have been able to see him.

  But it hardly mattered, she decided. She didn’t want to be with Darcy in stilted proper conversation. She wanted to be alone with him so that they could really be themselves. She was going to have to figure out how to make that happen.

  As she was getting ready for bed, she decided to speak to Cecily about it.

  “Do you think that you could find out where a gentleman’s bedroom is?” she said as Cecily braided her hair for bed.

  Cecily lifted the brush. “Miss, you don’t mean that!”

  Elizabeth turned to look at her. “Of course I do. I wouldn’t ask for no reason. Is it possible?”

  “Well, sure I could find out. I could ask one of the valets. But if I did, they’d all start gossiping about why I did it.”

  “It’s for a surprise,” said Elizabeth, improvising off the top of her head. “His cousin and I have cooked it up. I want to leave something in his room. When he sees it, he’ll find it hilarious.”

  Cecily made a face. “What do you want to leave there?”

  “Oh, that’s not important.”

  “You can’t mean to bring it there yourself, can you? If anyone found you in that part of the house—” Cecily broke off, shaking her head. “You aren’t going to ask me to do it, are you? Because if you wish it, I’ll do it, of course, but…” She clasped her hands together. “I’m sorry. I am at your service, of course.”

  “Don’t be silly, Cecily, I’m not asking you to sneak into a gentleman’s room.” Elizabeth gave her a smile. “Calm down.”

  Cecily let out a relieved breath. “Oh, thank goodness. I was watching my whole life go down the drain if I got caught.”

  “I would never ask you to do such a thing.” Elizabeth patted her hand. “If it’s too much to find out where his room is, I shall find out another way.”

  “I can find out for you,” said Cecily. “I’ll think of a way to do it that won’t cause too much gossip.”

  “How will you do that?”

  “I’m not sure yet, but I’ll think of something.”

  * * *

  The next day, Elizabeth was terrified that she was going to have to think up even more stories about India, and she was afraid that she had quite exhausted both actual events and her imagination.

  But luckily, Elizabeth was saved. That day, all the men were preparing to go on a hunt, and the women would be riding out with them to see them off. There would be a picnic, so it seemed it would be unlikely that Elizabeth would have to entertain everyone again.

  She determined that if she were asked, she would say that she was quite exhausted from talking all night the previous evening and that she had a raw throat. Which was, actually, somewhat true. She kept sipping at water, but it wasn’t helping. She wasn’t used to anyone paying the least bit of attention to her, and she didn’t think she’d said that many words in mixed company in the last five years all stacked together.

  The air was warm when they went out around noontime.

  It was a beautiful day, not a cloud in the sky. They settled on a gentle hill for the servants to spread out the food.

  Elizabeth gazed out over the horizon, the rolling green hills stretching out before her. It reminded her of the ocean. A land ocean—green instead of blue. She imagined the hills bursting open like waves, the scenery all going liquid.

  “Miss Bennet?”

  Elizabeth started. “Yes?” She was terrified this was going to be it. Someone was going to want more stories of India.

  But it was Anne. “I wonder if I might join you.”

  “Oh, certainly,” said Elizabeth.

  Anne sat down. “Admiring the view?”

  “Yes, it’s quite pretty.”

  “Oh, quite.”

  Elizabeth waited, but Anne said no more. Did that mean she was supposed to say something? Drat, why was she so terrible at this? Anne probably thought her a tongue-tied buffoon. She never could think of anything to say around the woman.

  Anne folded her hands in her lap. “I hadn’t expected to see you again so soon. What a happy coincidence that you should end up in the same place as Darcy and me.”

  Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. “A happy coincidence indeed.”

  “I had no idea that you were the sister of Mr. Bolton’s wife.”

  “I have a lot of sisters,” said Elizabeth.

  “Indeed,” said Anne. “Listen, Miss Bennet, I shall just come out with it, I suppose. You obviously have designs on Mr. Darcy.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  Anne raised her eyebrows.

  “I don’t want to marry him or anything like that,” said Elizabeth. “I know that I’m not marriageable material. You needn’t worry about that if you don’t approve of me.”

  “Well, if you don’t want to marry him, what do you want?”

  Elizabeth blushed.

  Anne waited for a response. When none came, she turned back to gaze out over the horizon. “I feel obligated to tell you that Darcy has told me that he has no intention of marrying.”

  Elizabeth turned to her sharply. “But that was always his plan. He would come back to England after he had made his fortune and get married. What is he going to do about his land? He’ll need heirs, won’t he?”

  “Oh, someone will inherit, I suppose,” said Anne. “That’s what he said to me. You do not think I said all of these things to him? At any rate, since you are not even interested in marriage, perhaps it doesn’t matter. I only wanted to apprise you of the situation. I thought you might be quite crushed otherwise.”

  “Well, no, of course not,” said Elizabeth.

  Anne shrugged. “Excellent, then. I did find your stories of India so terribly diverting. I shall look forward to more of your company.” Airily, she wandered away, leaving Elizabeth to puzzle over what she had said.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “But how did you find out where his room was?” said Elizabeth to Cecily. It was after dinner, and Cecily was helping her undress for bed.

  “Well, I told his valet that Mr. Darcy was looking for him, and that he was to go to the east wing at once,” said Cecily. “He says, ‘The east wing? What’s he doing there?’ And I says, ‘Oh, isn’t that where his room is? On the east wing, overlooking the gardens?’ And he says, ‘Look here, Mr. Darcy’s room is in the west wing and it’s overlooking the drive.’ I says, ‘The first room overlooking the drive?’ He says, ‘No, the third one down. Are you sure that it’s Mr. Darcy who needs assistance?’ Then I pretended to look confused, and I says, ‘Maybe not, if that’s not where his room is. I don’t know.’ And he says he’d best go check in any case, and that was that. So, there you have it. That’s where his room is.”

  “You’re wonderful, Cecily,” said Elizabeth. She wanted to throw her arms her around the maid, but she didn’t. It wouldn’t have been proper, and it would have confused the poor girl. Instead, she reached for Cecily’s hand and squeezed it.

  Cecily’s face broke into a big smile. “I did right?”

  “Perfection.”

  Cecily looked down at her hands, and then up again, shyly. “Can I know what you’re to put in his room, then? If it’s a joke, I’d like a laugh.”

  “Oh, a horse shoe.” Elizabeth pulled the first thing out of her head that she could.

  Cecily wrinkled her nose. “I don’t see why that’s funny.”

  “You would have had to have been there, I think. It’s one of those jokes only funny to the circle of people in attendance.”

  “Oh, I see.”

  “But I’m ever so grateful, and I think you are quite the best ladies maid in all of England.”

  Cecily blushed with pleasure. “You really think that?”

  “I do.” Elizabeth smiled at her. “I can’t thank you enough. And…” She lowered her voice. “I would appreciate it if you kept this between you and me. Don’t tell my sister, Mrs. Bo
lton. I don’t think she would get the joke.”

  “Of course,” said Cecily.

  “Thank you ever so much.”

  “Well,” said Cecily, “I was happy to do it, I was. And anything else you need, you just ask me.”

  “Of course.”

  * * *

  Elizabeth lay awake for what seemed like eternities, listening to the vast quietness around her, trying to convince herself that everyone must be asleep by now, and that if she got up and sneaked out of her room, no one would be the wiser.

  But thinking it and doing it were quite different things, and she found she could will her legs to move, but she couldn’t actually force it to happen.

  She lay there, in her nightgown, awake and longing, her heart beating with anticipation and fright.

  And then, finally, she did it all at once.

  She flung herself out of bed, and rushed across the room to open her door.

  The hallway was quite dark.

  She gulped.

  Lighting a small lamp, she stepped slowly into the hallway.

  She pulled her door shut behind her. It wouldn’t do to leave it open. Anyone could look inside and see that she wasn’t there.

  She didn’t expect that anyone would be by to check on her in the time she was gone. After all, she would be back by morning. Still, better safe than sorry.

  She began to tiptoe down the hallway, her lamp spreading a small circle of flickering light ahead of her. She could make out the carpet on the floor, the decorative runner where the floor met the wall, but no more than that.

  She knew that there were portraits higher up. In this wing, the walls were plastered with portraits of the de Bourgh family, all the way back to the fourteenth century.

  Elizabeth was glad enough not to have their disapproving eyes on her as she moved through the hall.

  Of course, she realized, their eyes were on her. She simply couldn’t see them, because her light wasn’t bright enough. But that didn’t mean that the portraits weren’t looking down her from above, passing judgment on her.

  Don’t be silly. They’re only paintings, she admonished herself.