A Quest for Mr Darcy

by Cassandra Grafton

  Holding the collar of his shirt together with his hand, Darcy followed Mr Bennet into the room, a large parlour with a roaring fire in the grate and warmly lit with glowing lamps. To his relief, Elizabeth was nowhere to be seen, and as he took a seat by the fireside he released his grip on his shirt.

  ‘Forgive my informal attire, Mr Bennet.’ He waved a hand at his shirtfront. Your housekeeper – Alice, I think you said? – insisted on having my neck cloth.’

  Mr Bennet grunted. ‘You did well to concede without complaint. You would not have won, had you tried. We have learnt quickly to heed her direction. Come, Mr Darcy. Drink your tea – it will warm you well.’

  Darcy did as he was bid and a comfortable silence fell, the only sound being the crackling of the logs in the hearth. He knew not what to say to his host; with all he had learned in Hertfordshire, where did one begin? Mr Bennet seemed untroubled by his silence, but he could not ignore the fact he was a tenant on his estate.

  ‘Are you – er – have you settled well at The Grange, sir?’

  Mr Bennet withdrew his gaze from the flames, where his attention had been fixed. ‘I believe we have. You keep a fine estate, Mr Darcy, and your steward has been most attentive. We were established as expediently as one could wish.’

  ‘I am glad to hear it. I—’ Darcy hesitated, then cleared his throat. ‘I was sorry to hear of your loss last year. Please accept my deepest condolences.’

  Mr Bennet shifted in his chair, his gaze once more with the hearth. ‘Bad times. Difficult times.’ Then, he looked back to Darcy. ‘Might I ask how you learned of it? It is not something we have spoken of here in Derbyshire – for obvious reasons.’

  ‘I learned of the sad passing of both your wife and youngest daughter but recently when my friend Bingley and I were at Netherfield.’

  Mr Bennet snorted. ‘Yes – no doubt whatever you were told was embellished to make it suitably garish, too!’

  Darcy shook his head, pleased not to be showered with droplets this time. ‘Not at all. We spoke only to Bingley’s housekeeper and the local curate, both of whom were discreet.’

  A grunt was the only response to this. Then, Mr Bennet shrugged. ‘You know the whole sorry tale, then. Well, it is what it is – or was. We have striven to make a fresh start, a new life for ourselves here in Derbyshire. The early months were difficult for the girls, but time passes, as it will, and with the change of seasons we have all adjusted. I believe we may be considered content.’

  ‘I am pleased it is so. There was – in Hertfordshire, sir, there seemed an excess of secrecy over your whereabouts.’

  Mr Bennet raised a brow. ‘Can you blame me?’

  ‘Not at all.’ Darcy eyed his host warily. He did not know the gentleman well, and certainly did not wish to trespass upon sensitive feelings, but his curiosity would be satisfied. ‘What I meant to say was, if secrecy was so essential, how came you to accept a tenancy from a landlord with whom you had a prior acquaintance?’

  Mr Bennet returned his gaze to the fire. ‘Who is to say where one can trust? Oft, one is better served by almost-strangers than by those one considers friends. And this is the nineteenth century. One cannot just disappear entirely from the face of the earth. I sought a fresh start for us, somewhere disassociated with unhappier times and where the family name would be untainted by the stain cast upon it.’ He turned to fix Darcy with a compelling eye. ‘Our prior acquaintance was fleeting, yet you, Mr Darcy, I do not fear. I have no reason to suspect you will be at your desk by break of dawn, penning letters to all and sundry in Meryton to advise of your discovery.’

  ‘You suppose correctly.’

  The older gentleman nodded. ‘I felt no need to share our direction with anyone in Hertfordshire; we were universally shunned in our hour of need, not supported and warmed by the comfort of loyal friends and neighbours.’

  He leaned forward to grab the teapot and replenished both their cups. ‘My poor Lizzy displayed quite an aversion to coming to Derbyshire,’ Mr Bennet raised his head and glanced at Darcy. ‘An unprecedented aversion. However,’ he shrugged. ‘She admitted she believed we could trust to your discretion; thus when my sister Gardiner was able to make the introductions locally, I considered it fortuitous. Derbyshire is sufficiently remote from the only society we frequented, and also from Town, where any delight in gossiping about our misfortunes must have been of little consequence, for we were hardly known amongst the ton. As far as this neighbourhood is concerned, I have lost my wife and a daughter. That is all they need to know.’

  He could not begin to imagine how Elizabeth had felt to discover where her new home would be! Darcy drained his cup and then pulled out his watch.

  ‘Well, sir, I believe I have trespassed long enough on your hospitality. I thank you for the chance to warm myself, but I must return before I am missed.’

  They got to their feet and walked to the door. ‘Were you on your way anywhere in particular, Mr Darcy? It is some miles beyond The Grange before there is further civilisation.’

  Darcy was thankful for the dark hallway as heat stole into his cheeks. ‘No – no, I was not. I had spent the second of two long days in the carriage and was restless after dining. My sister had retired early, and I felt in need of stretching my legs.’

  ‘Ah, yes, I see.’

  They had reached the door and before Darcy could ask for his coat, Alice appeared behind them.

  ‘The worst is gone, sir, and Higgins has given it a good brushing.’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs... Alice.’ Darcy accepted his coat and shrugged into it quickly. There was still no sign of Elizabeth; he was unsure whether he was relieved or disappointed.

  ‘Well, goodnight, Mr Bennet. I hope to meet again in pleasanter circumstances.’

  ‘Indeed, indeed. Goodnight.’

  Darcy walked swiftly. The night air had become cooler and his damp coat weighed heavily on his shoulders. He was but a half mile from home when he realised he had left his neck cloth behind.

  Chapter Eleven

  Concealed by the obscurity of her unlit chamber, Elizabeth watched from the window as Darcy strode down the lane in the direction of Pemberley, his great coat billowing behind him; she chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip and then, as his tall figure faded into the shadows, she fastened the shutters and turned around to face the darkness of her room.

  This would never do! For months, eight long months, she had anticipated their paths crossing once more, conscious of its inevitability. Yet never had she contemplated a re-acquaintance in such a manner as this!

  Elizabeth felt her way to the door and pulled it ajar to permit some light. Then, she quickly retrieved a candle from beside the bed and, lighting it from an obliging wall sconce as she left her room, she walked along the landing to a door on the opposite side.

  Hearing nothing from within, she grasped the handle and slowly opened the door to peer inside.

  ‘Have you come up to bed?’ Jane Bennet eyed her sister drowsily from her propped up pillows, a book resting on the coverlet. ‘What is the time? I cannot seem to sleep.’

  Relieved to see her sister still awake, Elizabeth closed the door and walked over to sit on the bed beside her, placing her candleholder on the table next to Jane’s own.

  ‘I am most surprised to see you awake. You had no rest at all last night and you endured a long day to follow it.’

  Jane pushed herself up against her pillows with a weary smile. ‘There was little else I could do; sickness does not consider the clock when it comes to call, and I was needed.’

  ‘Indeed, it does not. But, Jane,’ Elizabeth grasped her sister’s hands and squeezed them lightly. ‘Do take care. Though Mr Wentworth values your efforts to help care for some of his parishioners, you must ensure you get adequate rest, or you will be the next patient, and I am no consolation at anyone’s bedside. Who will comfort the comforter then?’

  With a soft laugh, Jane shook her head. ‘Do not worry about me, Lizzy. I am in sound health, merely a litt
le tired this evening, that is all. Besides, I do believe I have never felt more alive than I do here in Derbyshire. The air is so clean and fresh, and the constant breeze is a helpful ally in driving away stillness and melancholy, and even sickness.’

  It was true. Much as Elizabeth had missed the gentle, undulating landscape of Hertfordshire during their winter arrival at The Grange, by springtime she had found both her place and her feet; the summer walks along the rocky peaks all about were her delight, as was the ever-changing parkland of the Pemberley estate – not that she wished to think on that just now.

  ‘Is anything amiss?’ Jane peered at her in the dim light. ‘You appear out of sorts. Did something happen after I came to bed? Is Papa in one of his brown studies?’

  Elizabeth laughed ruefully. ‘No, he is in good spirits, though I fear I may have caused him a little undue anxiety.’ All notion of humour faded. ‘Mr Darcy is returned; he was here.’

  It was Jane’s turn to give her sister’s hands a comforting squeeze. ‘Oh Lizzy! Was it – was conversation difficult? I cannot imagine how you must have felt, indeed, how he must have felt.’ Then, she frowned again. ‘It is a singular time for paying a call, is it not? What could Mr Darcy have been thinking?’

  What indeed had he been thinking and, moreover, what was he thinking now as he made his way home, thoroughly dampened by her hand?

  ‘Lizzy?’

  ‘I cannot comprehend his purpose, or if a call upon us was his intention.’ It was Elizabeth’s turn to frown. ‘Though I suppose it must have been, for why else would he have entered the grounds?’ She gestured with her hand. ‘It is of little consequence; Mr Darcy is returned, as we knew he would, and we have been face to face once more.’

  ‘And was it… did you… pray tell me, Lizzy – how do you feel he received you?’

  ‘Heaven only knows, dear Jane!’ Elizabeth could not help but laugh again as she recalled the sight of him. ‘I greeted him with the same consideration I show Mr Fox when he comes to call!’

  Jane sat forward and put a hand to her mouth. ‘You did not! How so? Oh dear – what must he think?’

  Elizabeth shrugged. ‘It was an accident – of course it was. I thought our usual intruder disturbed the hens; who would expect a visitor at such an hour? Besides, Mr Darcy was all politeness, in the circumstances. Indeed, he did not seem to mind so terribly – perhaps I should have done it long ago.’

  ‘But you cannot have been anything but appalled.’

  ‘Oh, I was uncomfortable enough, I assure you – at first.’ Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled as she met her sister’s anxious gaze. ‘Yet I will own, had our situation not been as it is, my humour might well have prevailed.’

  ‘But what now? Are we likely to receive him here again?’

  Elizabeth let out a short, derisory laugh. ‘I cannot think of anything less likely. I fully expect Mr Darcy to avoid me at all costs henceforth. Think on it, Jane. If he considered our position as so beneath him when we resided in a home belonging to our family for generations, imagine his scorn for us now, leasing a manor from another, Papa merely a tenant on another man’s land…’ she stopped as a sudden wave of longing swept through her for Longbourn, for how things used to be.

  Then she turned a reassuring smile on her sister. ‘No. I think we may rest assured we shall escape too much notice from the man himself, and I have been reconciled to having to face him again at some time or other. Now he has returned, I shall be well-rehearsed in how to greet him.’

  Jane leaned back against her pillows. ‘Lizzy, you will be careful? We are, in effect, at Mr Darcy’s mercy.’

  ‘You misunderstand me, Jane, dearest. Despite what happened earlier, it is not my intent to anger or displease Mr Darcy.’

  ‘Then you will be civil?’

  Elizabeth got to her feet and leaned down to drop a kiss on Jane’s cheek. ‘I cannot profess to hold him in quite so high a regard as most of the district, but I shall, for your sake and Papa’s, strive to be meek and subservient at all times; indeed, Mr Darcy shall hardly know me!’

  ~o0o~

  Darcy’s heart still pounded in his ears as he reached the house, something he attributed to his rapid walk down the lane, and he let himself in through the boot room, shrugging out of his still damp great coat.

  So, what he had considered his foolish speculation over the Bennets being in Derbyshire had been confirmed – but what of it? He was quite over his former admiration for Elizabeth Bennet and, despite her initial mortification, he was certain the lady held him in no higher esteem than when they last met.

  Refusing to allow his thoughts to venture down this path, he made his way along the corridor into the main house. All was quiet as he crossed the hall, but his housekeeper met him at the top of the stairs, exclaiming over his bedraggled appearance.

  ‘An accident, Mrs Reynolds. Perhaps you could send Thornton up?’ he added over his shoulder as he turned down the hallway to his rooms.

  Closing the door, he leaned back against it, his heart frustratingly still pounding. Then, he straightened and walked over to the mirror on the dresser. His appearance was as he had supposed – his hair was in tousled disarray, his shirt hung open at the neck and the collar of his coat was damp and uncomfortable.

  Removing the coat, he dropped it onto the bed and turned about as the dressing room door was pulled open by his valet, somewhat out of breath.

  ‘A small mishap during an evening walk, Thornton,’ Darcy said, fully conscious of the startled countenance of his man as he took in his master’s dishevelled attire. ‘It is of no consequence. All I require is a bath and my dressing robe.’

  ‘The water is on its way, sir.’ Thornton turned towards the tallboy where towels were housed.

  Darcy began to loosen his cuffs. ‘You are prescient.’

  ‘No, sir,’ Thornton returned with a towel and the dressing robe which he laid reverently on the day bed. ‘Mrs Reynolds gave me some forewarning.’

  Darcy grunted and dropped his watch onto the tray on the dresser before stripping his shirt from his shoulders and turning to walk into the dressing room.

  Lying in his bath some fifteen minutes later, Darcy welcomed the heat of the water against his skin as he reflected on the outcome of his evening walk.

  Damn foolish decision. What possessed you to go there at this ridiculous hour? What must they think?

  More to the point, what did he? What of the fact that this was the Bennets of Longbourn?

  ‘This alters nothing!’

  Thornton’s head appeared round the door. ‘Did you call, sir?’

  Darcy shook his head, wet tendrils of hair clinging to his forehead. Enough of this. ‘No – I wish for my towel, Thornton, if I may.’

  As his valet left the room, Darcy leaned back against the bath and closed his eyes. He would focus upon the impending arrival of Bingley and his familiar presence would… his eyes flew open. What if Jane Bennet was the other daughter residing at The Grange? He blew out a frustrated breath. He had been heartily sick of the resurgence of the name of Bennet when in Town. How dare it come to haunt him at Pemberley?

  Darcy sank lower into the water, allowing it to close over his face and hair, then emerged to find Thornton holding out a large towel. Soon wrapped in his robe, he walked over to the full-length mirror, rubbing vigorously at his wet hair as he stared at his reflection. Disquiet was writ upon his countenance.

  Like it or not, he must ascertain if Miss Bennet remained at home. If she did…

  With an impatient sigh, Darcy tossed the damp towel aside and turned for his chamber. His friend was due to arrive in a matter of days. Somehow he must determine where the lady was and without delay, and he feared his only recourse was a return on the morrow to The Grange.

  Chapter Twelve

  Yet again, Darcy did not sleep well. Consequently, he fell into a heavy slumber as dawn broke, waking later than planned, but he was soon dressed and on his way down the stairs, determined to pay his call without delay.
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  ‘Fitz! Where are you going?’

  Darcy had reached the hall as his sister emerged from the breakfast room, a napkin clasped in her hand.

  ‘I have a brief call to make, Georgie.’

  ‘But you have yet to break your fast!’

  ‘I shall hardly starve, my dear.’ Darcy walked over and dropped a kiss upon the top of her head and steered her back into the room. ‘I shall return directly, and we will take a walk about the grounds, as I promised you.’

  Making good his escape from the house, Darcy decided against using his mount and turned his steps in the same direction as the previous evening, trying, with little success, not to dwell upon his first sight of Elizabeth in over eighteen months. He had been thankful for the dim light of the lamp last night, casting their countenances almost into shadow.

  This morning, there would be no hiding, and no element of surprise to excuse them every day civilities. Would she receive him in a more welcoming manner? Darcy swiped at the long grasses bordering the lane with his cane. What did it signify? He had but one purpose with the family, and it did not concern Miss Elizabeth Bennet!

  Reaching the entrance to The Grange, Darcy came to a halt. Elizabeth was coming down the drive, a bonnet swinging loosely from her hand, her face raised to the weak sun’s rays. Suddenly, she saw him and stopped, and he walked on to join her, and the low curtsey she afforded him at least gave him a moment to gather his thoughts.

  ‘Mr Darcy.’

  Meeting his gaze, she raised her chin slightly, such a familiar gesture and, against his volition, his chest tightened.

  ‘Miss Bennet. No bucket today?’

  Her eyes flashed. ‘Not yet.’

  ‘I have come to call upon your father. Is he at home?’

  ‘He is in his library.’

  ‘And will you take me to him?’

  ‘If you insist.’

  She made as though to turn back, and Darcy suppressed a sigh.