Implacable Resentment

by Jann Rowland

  Elizabeth regarded her aunt with affection. “You know I must. Regardless of whatever history we share, he is still my father, and they are still my family.”

  The words sounded hollow to her own ears—the only family she possessed lived in this house, though Elizabeth did maintain some fond memories of her eldest sister. Still, by the definition of the word, she knew that her words were true. It could not be so very bad to live at Longbourn again, she told herself. She was not the frightened child she had been then.

  “We will fight this if you will just give us the word,” said her uncle.

  Elizabeth smiled at him. “I will not have this discussion again. You know I do not wish to be any more of a burden than I already am.”

  “You have never been a burden, Lizzy,” said Mrs. Gardiner.

  “And I love you for all you have done for me. But this is something I must do.” Elizabeth gazed at her beloved relations, silently pleading with them to understand.

  He aunt and uncle both regarded her for a long moment, and though their features were soft and affectionate toward her, she almost thought that they would continue to protest. But no matter what they said, Elizabeth would not yield. She needed to do this for her own peace of mind and for the purpose of showing her family that she could meet them again with her head held high.

  “Neither your aunt nor I are happy with your decision,” replied her uncle at length. “But we will respect it.

  “However, should your family act in a reprehensible manner, as I suspect they will, and if you should wish it, then you must always remember that you will have a home with us.”

  Tears moistening the corners of her eyes, Elizabeth moved forward to embrace her aunt and uncle. “I am so fortunate that I have you both as relations. I love you both and will always be thankful for what you have done for me.”

  “And we are thankful for the joy you have brought into our lives, dear girl,” said Mrs. Gardiner, her voice as thick with emotion as Elizabeth’s.

  Smiling, though inside she was a trembling mass of nerves, Elizabeth excused herself from her uncle’s study and returned to her room to begin the task of packing for her imminent journey. She was determined to return to her childhood home without the slightest appearance of meekness. In doing so, she hoped to show them that she would not be intimidated. And maybe she would also make her aunt and uncle proud.

  In the study she had just left, her aunt and uncle watched as the door closed behind her, neither saying anything for a long moment after their niece departed. A sense of foreboding had fallen over Gardiner, as he doubted that Maggie had grown in either sense or compassion. Elizabeth would almost certainly face severe censure from her mother when she returned, and Gardiner did not think that Maggie would be temperate in either her words or her behavior. It seemed equally unlikely that Bennet would rouse himself to temper his wife’s behavior.

  Elizabeth was a strong woman, and she had grown into everything that Gardiner and his wife had hoped she would when they had removed her from Longbourn. He only prayed that she would be strong enough to weather this storm and emerge stronger for the experience.

  “I worry for her,” said Sarah in so soft a tone that Gardiner had difficulty hearing her.

  “As do I,” said Gardiner, drawing his wife close to him.

  “She will have to keep us informed,” insisted Sarah as she pulled away and regarded him with a fierce expression which he had always associated with a lioness protecting her cubs. “If Bennet so much as puts one foot out of line . . .”

  “. . . Then we shall retrieve her and file suit to become her guardians,” finished Gardiner. “We will simply have to trust Elizabeth and hope for the best.”

  Gardiner could tell that Sarah liked it as little as he did himself. But for the moment, there was no other choice. But heaven help Bennet if he gave them any cause to act against him.

  Chapter IV

  “It is not that I do not enjoy your company, but I assure you that I am fully capable of doing this myself.”

  Uncle Gardiner smiled at Elizabeth and nodded. “I am certain you are, dear girl,” said he, an enigmatic smile adorning his features.

  But Elizabeth was not fooled in the slightest. Raising an eyebrow, she regarded her uncle, saying, “Are you certain you can spare an entire day away from your business?”

  “For you, I can spare much more,” said Uncle Gardiner with a pointed look. “Lizzy, as I have been your guardian for the past ten years, it is fitting that I should deliver you to your father in person.”

  He turned and looked out the window for a brief moment before he once again fixed his gaze on Elizabeth. “I know that I am in no way deceiving you, and I would not even attempt to do so. I shall have a discussion with your father and make him aware of the reality of the situation.”

  Shaking her head, Elizabeth was nevertheless forced to smile at her uncle. She was fortunate that such a conscientious guardian had watched over her for the past ten years. If only she could have counted on her father to do the same.

  “I thank you, uncle,” said Elizabeth in a warm and affectionate tone.

  “It is the least I can do, Lizzy.” Mr. Gardiner’s expression became serious once again, and he gazed at her pointedly. “Just remember, dear girl, should anything happen which distresses you—anything at all!—you have only to send word, and I will immediately return you to London.”

  The sincere concern displayed by her uncle caused Elizabeth to become misty-eyed, and she had to fight to choke back a sob. Once she had mastered herself, she directed a brilliant smile at him and said, “Thank you, uncle. But I assure you that I shall be well.”

  “Let us hope so,” said Mr. Gardiner, his voice so quiet that Elizabeth could hardly make out his words.

  In truth, Elizabeth was not nearly as confident as she had assured her aunt and uncle. The thought of seeing her family had caused a nervousness such as she had not felt for years to well up within her, and she was certain the return to Longbourn would be the longest she had ever undertaken.

  They had traveled for two hours when her uncle suggested that they make a stop at an inn. Elizabeth readily acquiesced, not only due to the fatigue of the journey, but also due to the desire to delay the inevitable a little longer. They entered the inn and ordered some refreshments to wash down the dust of the road, and as they were readying themselves to leave once again, Elizabeth indicated her desire to stroll outside for a moment while her uncle settled the bill for their brief stay.

  Stepping outside into the bright sunshine, Elizabeth closed her eyes and tilted her head upward, reveling in the warmth of the day. She stood in that attitude for several moments before the clearing of a throat startled her from her reverie. Elizabeth’s eyes snapped open, and she saw a young gentleman regarding her with a suspicious curve tilting the corners of his mouth. He was tall and handsome, and he was impeccably dressed, wearing well-tailored clothes which were made of what appeared to be costly material. Clearly, he was a man of fashion and of some influence in society, and he no doubt inhabited a level of society far above any that Elizabeth or her relations could boast.

  “Pardon me!” exclaimed Elizabeth, mortified at the picture she must have presented to such a man.

  “It is no trouble at all, Miss . . .”

  The man’s voice trailed off, and he watched her in earnest. Elizabeth, realizing that they had not been introduced, blushed and was about to demure when the door behind her opened and her uncle stepped out of the inn.

  “Elizabeth?” asked Mr. Gardiner with some confusion.

  “My apologies,” said the man, turning to Mr. Gardiner. “Your daughter and I encountered one another as she was exiting the inn.”

  “No harm done, it appears,” said Mr. Gardiner, looking at the man curiously. “Unfortunately, this wonderful young lady is not my daughter. She is my niece.”

  “Fitzwilliam Darcy,” said the young man, introducing himself with a bow.

  “Edward Gardiner,” respo
nded Mr. Gardiner. “And this is my niece, Elizabeth Bennet.” Then he regarded Mr. Darcy with a tilted head. “If I may, are you Mr. Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire?”

  Though the young man had been congenial up to that point, a shroud seemed to come over his countenance, and his expression grew guarded. “Yes, I am.”

  Mr. Gardiner appeared to sense that he had somehow offended the young man. “My apologies for the impertinence, Mr. Darcy. My wife hails from Lambton, a town with which you must certainly be familiar.”

  “Indeed, I am, Mr. Gardiner,” said Mr. Darcy, apparently mollified. “Lambton is a delightful town.”

  “My wife considers it the dearest place in the world, and she has often spoken of the Darcy family’s reputation in the area and the benevolence of your parents in particular.”

  “I thank you, Mr. Gardiner. My parents were indeed well regarded.”

  Mr. Gardiner smiled. “I believe that you are as well regarded as your parents were.” He then turned to Elizabeth and said, “Unfortunately, I believe that it is time for us to depart, Elizabeth.

  “Mr. Darcy, it has been a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” said Mr. Gardiner, turning to the other man.

  “The pleasure is all mine,” replied Mr. Darcy.

  With a final nod of farewell, Elizabeth allowed herself to be led to their waiting carriage. As her uncle handed her up into the equipage, she turned and caught a glimpse of Mr. Darcy watching them; then the driver was given the order, and the carriage departed.

  “Well, I never would have expected such notice from a man of Mr. Darcy’s stature,” said Mr. Gardiner.

  “Mr. Darcy’s stature?” echoed Elizabeth.

  “You have heard your aunt speak of her childhood home in Lambton?” Elizabeth nodded and smiled, as her aunt had often spoken of the area with great fondness. “Mr. Darcy owns the nearest estate, Pemberley. It is a great estate, with a park which is ten miles around at least, and its annual yield is a clear ten thousand pounds, if it is a shilling. Most men of his stature are unapproachably proud and will not deign to speak with anyone not of their sphere.”

  “But surely Mr. Darcy could not have known that you are in trade,” said Elizabeth. “You certainly do not act like a man in trade.”

  Mr. Gardiner laughed. “I thank you, Lizzy, for that bit of flattery.”

  Then her uncle suddenly sobered and regarded her with regret. “If only I could have seen you well settled with a man of even half of Mr. Darcy’s consequence long ere now. I would have been well pleased to see you thus protected.”

  Moved by his continued care, Elizabeth leaned forward and placed her hand on his arm. “I shall be well, uncle. Truly, I shall.”

  “I hope that is so,” replied her uncle in a quiet voice.

  And Elizabeth, in the confines of her own mind, agreed fervently with the sentiment. Hopefully, she would be well in the home of her father, though that was by no means certain.

  The carriage pulled up to Longbourn, and Gardiner noted with annoyance that neither his sister nor her husband had seen fit to exit the house to greet their long-estranged daughter. It appeared that the only person present was one of her sisters—Jane, unless Gardiner missed his guess. The other sisters would have been too young to remember much about Elizabeth, and Jane had always been a gentle soul, eager to please all. Gardiner doubted that she had changed in the interim.

  Gardiner turned to Elizabeth and almost attempted to persuade her to give up this madness and return to London. But a glance at her told him that he could not convince her to return. The stubborn and courageous young woman who had emerged from the shattered child of yesteryear was not to be intimidated by anyone.

  The coach stopped, and Gardiner stepped out, handing Elizabeth down before turning to regard his eldest niece. The years had been kind to Jane; when he had last seen her, she had been a pretty child full of promise, and that promise had been fulfilled in the beautiful woman who now stood before him. She also appeared to be as sweet-tempered as Gardiner remembered, for she bore a welcoming smile for them both and evinced a hint of eagerness which he attributed to a desire to again know the sister whose company she had been denied all these years.

  “Welcome to Longbourn, uncle,” said she in a low but almost joyous tone. Then she turned to her younger sister and greeted her with a hesitant, almost diffident embrace. But her tone was not less welcoming as she whispered, “Welcome home, Elizabeth.”

  For her part, Elizabeth’s eyes were suspiciously misty, and she met her sister’s embrace with one of her own. “Thank you, Jane. I am very happy to see you again.”

  “And I you. I hope that we shall once again be as close as we were when . . .” Jane trailed off, clearly embarrassed and not wishing to once again bring up unhappy times or reopen old wounds.

  But Elizabeth merely smiled in that indomitable way of hers and, pulling away from her elder sister, grasped Jane’s arms and favored her with a brilliant smile. “I hope to regain that closeness, too, Jane.”

  Jane nodded. It was at that moment that a manservant exited the house to unload the carriage. Behind him was a stout woman of middle years who approached the two Bennet girls. “Miss Elizabeth?” said the woman, her smile and her shining eyes belying the question implied in her tone.

  “Mrs. Hill,” said Elizabeth. An indefinable emotion seemed to well up within Elizabeth, and Gardiner, knowing that the elderly housekeep had been Elizabeth’s protector to her limited ability, could see that his niece had been assaulted by memories of the woman’s support and kindness. For that matter, Gardiner was grateful to Mrs. Hill as well—there was no telling what might have happened to Elizabeth if she had not had at least one adult to look after her.

  But now was not the time for such thoughts. Though he had acquiesced to Elizabeth’s wishes, it did not follow that he would leave her behind without assuring himself as well as he was able that she would be well looked after.

  “You should go inside and get settled,” said Gardiner to Elizabeth. “I will speak with you again before I leave.”

  “Thank you, uncle,” said Elizabeth. After she had kissed him lightly on the cheek, she allowed her sister to lead her into the house.

  Gardiner watched her go, a lump forming in his throat. He truly did not wish to leave her here.

  “Do not concern yourself with the young miss, Mr. Gardiner,” sounded a voice behind him.

  Gardiner turned and noted the housekeeper regarding him with compassion evident in her eyes.

  “I will watch her as if she was my own daughter,” said she.

  “Thank you,” said Gardiner with a bow. “She has become very precious to us. We will miss her dearly.”

  “As it should be, sir.”

  “Has anything been said as to why now, after all these years, she has been recalled?”

  The housekeeper pursed her lips for a moment, and after a surreptitious glance about the area, she leaned forward and said in a soft voice:

  “Nothing within my hearing, sir. For many years after her daughter’s departure, Mrs. Bennet would not even allow the girl’s name to be spoken in the house. But the master decided a fortnight ago that Miss Elizabeth’s presence was required again, and though the mistress made quite a fuss about it, the master would not be moved.”

  “And he has not given any reason for this sudden determination?” asked Mr. Gardiner with a frown.

  “I do not believe he has, Mr. Gardiner. The mistress still has her nose out of joint over the matter, though she appears to be resigned to it now.”

  “How will she behave toward Elizabeth now?”

  Mrs. Hill shook her head sadly. “Not well, I am afraid. She still blames the young miss, you understand.”

  Gardiner scowled. “Of that, I am not surprised.” Then he smiled at her. “I thank you for this intelligence. I believe that I shall have a brief word with my brother before I say farewell to my niece.”

  “Should I announce you, sir?”

  “I know the way,”
said Mr. Gardiner. It was difficult to avoid making a comment about taking his brother to task about his behavior. He had already been too open with the woman as it was, though he was grateful for her insight.

  Entering through the open front door, Gardiner handed his coat and hat to a maid who was standing nearby, and then he proceeded down the hall to Bennet’s study. A moment later, he had knocked, and when no answer was forthcoming, he opened the door and entered.

  The first thing that Gardiner noticed was the fact that his brother had not been idle in the intervening years—or perhaps it was more correct to say he had not been idle when it came to the purchase of new books. The shelves were fairly groaning with the bounty of books which would make even the most dedicated book lover croon with delight. The second thing he noticed was that the years had not been kind to Bennet. Though the man was only fifty, his skin hung off his face, and his eyes appeared haunted and sunken. The gaze he fixed on Gardiner was anything but welcoming.

  Unfortunately for Bennet, Gardiner was not particularly concerned for his brother’s opinion. “Good day, Bennet,” said he in a congenial tone.

  The only reply he received was a grunt, which was not unexpected, given the circumstances.

  “I believe we need to have a serious conversation, brother.”

  “Much like you felt necessary ten years ago,” said Bennet. His tone was hard and cold and not at all in keeping with the lackadaisical man that Gardiner remembered. “I am afraid that I do not have anything to say to you.”

  “Then you shall listen,” said Gardiner in a firm tone, “for I have something to say to you. I have delivered Elizabeth to you as you have demanded. But I must tell you that I have done so against my better judgment.”

  Bennet leaned back in his chair and he sighed. “I assure you that Elizabeth will come to no harm in this house.”

  “It is not physical harm which concerns me,” replied Gardiner, directing a pointed glare at the other man. “I am sure you remember the state Elizabeth was in when she left you.” Gardiner paused and regarded his brother, who was watching him with an air of impatience. “If you had only taken the time to nurture your daughter, you might have found an intellectual equal, which I suspect you do not have among your other daughters.”