A Quest for Mr Darcy

by Cassandra Grafton

  Chapter Fourteen

  Elizabeth walked briskly as she made her way towards her favourite place. She had come upon it quite by accident, soon after their arrival. It had been January and, though rather cold, a pleasant day of clear skies and bright sunshine. Pining for her beloved Hertfordshire countryside, gentle and undulating and green, she had taken a rising lane from the nearby village of Curbar and, reaching its summit, had turned to face a view to steal her breath with its wild and untamed beauty.

  She had walked the length of this rocky outcrop more times now than she could recall, always heading west before descending by a circular route back to the house—always, that is, since she discovered walking east along the edge afforded a clear view of the distant rooftops and grounds of Pemberley House.

  Turning her steps uphill, Elizabeth pushed away any thought of its master. She had become quite practised in the art over time and intended to ensure it continued, despite coming face to face with him just now when he had called on her father. Her father…

  Elizabeth drew in a short breath. He had become so hardened of late. His genial, almost nonchalant nature was often replaced with an implacable resolve, and no amount of persuasion would change his mind once made up. What a difference a year had made to their family.

  Unbidden, her thoughts returned to the previous summer and the first intelligence of Lydia’s flight. She had returned from Derbyshire to a home that could never be the same, with ill-tiding upon ill-tiding assailing them until finally, intelligence of her sister had come – but of no solace. She was gone, taken from this earth; never to flirt audaciously or dissolve into giggles again; never to rend the air with her peals of laughter nor slam the doors so hard their father flinched; never to leave abandoned ribbons on every available surface...

  ‘How strange the things we miss,’ mused Elizabeth, her pace slowing as she made her way further up the hill. As for her mother… well, none of them had appreciated the significance of those frequent attacks of nerves and had paid them little mind.

  Sent to their uncle’s home in Gracechurch Street by their father not long after Lydia’s funeral had taken place, the sisters had found solace in the distraction of their young nieces and nephews. Mr Bennet had remained at home to nurse his ailing wife, and it had occurred to Elizabeth that perhaps he made efforts to make amends for neglecting her over the years.

  Yet whatever his reasoning, it was too little, too late. The remaining four girls had been recalled to their home only in time to see the cortege depart Longbourn, their last glimpse of their mother being the sight of the cart bearing her on her final journey towards the churchyard.

  If life had been hard to bear before this, it soon became intolerable, with rumours abounding over how Mrs Bennet had died, stoked mainly by their Aunt Philips. Barred from visiting her ailing sister in her final days, the lady had not only held Mr Bennet accountable but had taken the unfathomable step of involving the local Magistrate.

  Pausing to ease her breathing, the lane being at its steepest just before the summit, Elizabeth rested her hands on her hips and closed her eyes. She must put it aside and forego the memories. It had come to nothing, as they had known it would, though the associated stain lingered, the family finding themselves completely shunned and ostracised from all company.

  ‘Enough of this!’ Elizabeth’s eyes flew open, and she drew in a steadying breath before continuing her walk, resolutely drawing a veil over the past. Dwelling upon it served no useful purpose.

  Besides, her father’s decision to move away she fully understood, even though she had little desire to be uprooted and certainly not to be brought to this neighbourhood. Derbyshire... how she had hated the notion when first it was raised. Yet she knew they could rely on Mr Darcy’s discretion.

  Reaching her favourite rocky outcrop, Elizabeth climbed up on it and stared out across the vastness of the peaks, though her gaze saw little of it. Mr Darcy’s discretion... yes, of that she understood sufficient. Was it not his discretion which had led to all this?

  Elizabeth turned her back on the distant views. Mr Darcy’s letter had revealed much—both about the man himself and his actions—but, sensible though she was of her own judgment being at fault, Elizabeth knew she yet bore some resentment towards him, and not just on Jane’s behalf.

  How could he, knowing of Wickham’s proclivities, not have given some warning to the local neighbourhood once he knew he was quartered there? Further, Mr Darcy had not given her leave to speak of it either… her heart misgave her, as it did every time her thoughts travelled down such a path.

  Was she not equally culpable? If he was wrong for not sharing what he could, then so was she. If only… she sighed. Here she went again; if only… how the words haunted her.

  Elizabeth clambered carefully off the rock and turned to resume her walk. How was this adhering to her vow of allowing Mr Darcy no purchase? These few months in Derbyshire had taught her many valuable things about the gentleman. Whatever impression he may give to strangers in other lands, he was universally admired, respected and approved of in the north of England. Nothing she had learned since their arrival contradicted the high praise bestowed upon him last summer by his housekeeper...

  For a moment, memories consumed Elizabeth: her visit to the peaks with her aunt and uncle and their call at Pemberley. As it happened, it was almost her last happy memory, for nothing of pleasure had come beyond it, or for the remainder of the year twelve. Yet it did not sit well with her that visiting Pemberley held such a place.

  Elizabeth came slowly to a halt and, contrary to her usual practice, turned to look back towards the estate. Would anything be altered, with its master returned? She had long assumed Mr Darcy was fully aware of her presence and his prolonged absence on his travels was down to this intelligence. Perhaps he had stayed away as long as he could – a man could not, after all, completely forego his estate, his home, his heritage.

  ‘Well, he could not have had a more fitting welcome,’ Elizabeth declared out loud with a glare at the golden stone in the distance. ‘Let us hope it is the beginning and end of our acquaintance in Derbyshire.’

  Highly unlikely, as well you know. Elizabeth shook her head, but the thought persisted. And you are not averse to his presence, either, if you would only admit it.

  ‘Enough!’ Frustrated, Elizabeth turned her back on Pemberley and walked purposefully in the opposite direction.

  ~o0o~

  Thomas Bennet pushed open the door of the Lambton bookshop, wincing as it groaned on its hinges, causing those inside to turn and look at the newcomer. He knew most of the customers by sight, and they exchanged cordial greetings as he walked over to where the proprietor stood behind his counter.

  ‘Good morning, Mr Williams.’

  ‘Ah Mr Bennet, your timing is fortuitous, for I have just yesterday taken delivery of your order. Excuse me one moment.’ He turned and made his way into the storeroom at the back of the shop, and Mr Bennet walked over to one of the nearby bookcases and began examining the spines on the shelves.

  It was a small shop, representative of the size of the town, but well stocked and very popular. Hence, this morning it was also rather full through the simple fact of having half a dozen other people therein.

  As it was, Mr Bennet reached for a leather-bound tome at the precise moment a lady to his left also did, their hands meeting in mid-air, though both quickly withdrew them.

  He turned to look at the lady, who was simply but elegantly dressed and appeared to be around the age of five and thirty, and smiled. ‘Forgive me, after you, madam,’ and he gestured towards the book.

  She smiled in return and reached up to take it, and Mr Bennet blinked. The smile was charming, and as she turned away he found himself suddenly possessed of a desire to know more of her. Then, realising the stupidity of his thoughts, he returned to the counter to await the bookseller.

  ~o0o~

  ‘Are you prepared for the onslaught?’ Darcy opened the gate to the walled ro
se garden and stood back for his sister to precede him.

  Georgiana laughed as she glanced up at her brother. ‘Possibly not; are you?’

  Darcy smiled and patted his sister’s hand where it lay upon his arm as they walked around the garden.

  ‘The twins’ visit will at least prepare us for those who are to follow. We shall soon become accustomed to having company, my dear.’

  ‘I do so wish it could just be us, though. And Richard, of course. When may we expect him?’

  ‘The Watford assizes are in session, and thus he has duty to perform before he can leave the South behind…’ Darcy’s voice petered out as a sudden notion struck him.

  ‘Fitz?’

  ‘Forgive me. Here, let us sit for a while.’ He indicated an ornately framed bench against the wall and they settled side by side, their gazes roaming over the charming garden. Then, Georgiana shifted in her seat to face him.

  ‘Where did you go in such a hurry this morning?’

  Darcy had spent the past hour ruminating upon what to say about the Bennets to his sister and had reached no conclusion. They lived but two miles apart; though there was little likelihood of encounter beyond the occasional church service and a chance meeting when out walking, he still did not wish for the moment to be thrust upon him without warning, with everything his sister knew of his prior admiration for Elizabeth...

  ‘Fitz?’ Georgiana nudged his arm. ‘Forgive me; I should not pry into your affairs.’

  ‘Not at all.’ Darcy turned to face her. ‘I made a courtesy call on a former acquaintance. I had discovered, by chance, the family now resides in the neighbourhood.’

  ‘Surely it was a significant acquaintance for you to leave so precipitously?’

  Darcy eyed his sister cautiously. ‘I suppose it could have been called significant—once.’

  ‘Truly? And do you hope to re-establish it? How is it you are known to each other?’

  Darcy floundered; he knew not where to begin. What could he possibly say? Conscious of his sister’s curious air, he ran a hand through his hair and got to his feet, and Georgiana frowned. ‘Is anything amiss?’

  ‘I—we...’ Darcy gestured helplessly, and Georgiana rose from her seat, her countenance indicative of her sudden interest.

  ‘You are hiding something, Brother! Who are these people, and why are you so... so unsettled over speaking of them when you chose to call upon them but hours ago?’

  Darcy offered his arm to his sister and turned their steps towards the gate, which would take them back into Pemberley’s main grounds. He was conflicted; he did not wish to speak of Elizabeth, not to someone who had seen the full impact of her rejection on him. Yet what choice had he? It could not be avoided.

  He cleared his throat, which had become strangely tight. ‘It is the Bennet family.’ There was a long pause, and he was conscious Georgiana had turned suddenly to stare at him. ‘The family of Miss Elizabeth Bennet.’

  What Georgiana thought of this, Darcy was unsure, for she flew into his embrace and hugged him tightly. They stood thus for some seconds; then, Darcy dropped a kiss on top of her head and set her away from him, keeping his hands on her shoulders.

  ‘Do not be worried for me. I am quite well, and perfectly reconciled to it. I have seen the lady and things sit much as they were. We are civil, but nothing more.’ Or worse, he conceded silently.

  Georgiana bit her lip, then placed a hand over his heart. ‘I fear for you, Fitz.’

  Shaking his head, Darcy took her hand and placed it on his arm, indicating they should continue their walk.

  ‘There is no need for concern, my dear. The Bennets are but tenants on the estate. My call upon them this morning is all the attention required and has relieved me of any further obligation.’

  Silence greeted these words, and Darcy glanced at his sister, only to meet her anxious gaze.

  ‘Oh Fitz! You misunderstand my meaning! It is your heart I fear for, not your obligations as master of an estate. How shall you bear it?’

  Darcy firmly dismissed his own uncertainty. ‘I shall bear it quite well. It is in the past, and we have plenty to occupy us in the coming weeks, do we not?’

  Georgiana squeezed his arm lightly. ‘Yes, of course. But wait! Does not this family come from the same county where Mr Bingley has his estate? If they are known to him also, how can a full re-acquaintance be avoided? There are but days now until we expect him as our guest; will this not force the situation upon you?’

  ‘It may.’

  ‘And if it does? Brother, you will continue the acquaintance, will you not?’

  Darcy drew in a slow breath. He had done what was right in calling upon Mr Bennet. It would serve Elizabeth better if he paid no further attention in their direction. Surely there was no need whatsoever to continue a full acquaintance, even if Bingley did re-establish his own with them? They were about to receive a party of guests, after all...

  ‘Yes – yes, I will.’ Darcy blinked. Had he just said that?

  Georgiana smiled, then more widely. ‘Excellent! How soon may I meet her—I mean, them?’

  Chapter Fifteen

  Elizabeth returned to The Grange in an improved frame of mind. She had relegated any thought of Mr Darcy and the implications of his return to where it belonged, and instead had allowed the pleasure of her walk, the bracing air and the stunning scenery up on Curbar Edge to consume her.

  Consequently, as she dropped her bonnet and gloves onto the settle in the hall, she felt restored to herself and even able to understand her father’s point of view on visiting Hertfordshire—loath though she had been to admit it.

  There was no one in the drawing room, and she made her way to her father’s library, only to find that empty too.

  Returning to the hall, she saw the familiar brown packet on the side table addressed to her father and smiled. They had become accustomed to the way correspondence reached them, with everything being directed to the Gardiners’ address in London and then forwarded on to them. Not that they received much beyond matters pertaining to Longbourn requiring her father’s attention. The only personal correspondence within the packet came from their Aunt Gardiner or Elizabeth’s friend, Charlotte Collins.

  Then, Elizabeth noticed a separate letter peeking out from underneath, and with a smile, she pulled it out to read the direction—though it could only be one of two hands—before starting to break the seal and turning towards the stairs. Just then, however, the front door opened, and her father came in carrying a package wrapped in brown paper and string.

  ‘Papa! Where have you been?’

  Mr Bennet shrugged out of his coat as Alice came to take it from him and waved the parcel at her. ‘To collect the books I ordered last week.’ He walked over to place a kiss on Elizabeth’s cheek. ‘An enjoyable ramble, my dear?’ It seemed their earlier discord was not to be mentioned.

  ‘Yes, Papa. Just my usual course. The packet from Uncle has arrived.’ She pointed to it, but Mr Bennet frowned as he saw the partially open letter in Elizabeth’s hand.

  ‘What do you think of, child? Have I not told you, the post from London is for my attention alone?’

  Smarting at the sharp reprimand, Elizabeth thrust the letter she held in front of him. ‘I am full aware of your wishes, Papa. This is not from within the usual packet, it is a letter from Kitty, and it is addressed to me!’

  Mr Bennet closed his eyes for a second, then opened them and offered his daughter a rueful smile. ‘Forgive me, Lizzy.’ He laid a hand on her arm and then patted it gently. ‘I am yet to become accustomed to any post arriving addressed directly, for it has been but a short while since we permitted the girls the liberty.’

  Thankful his flash of temper—unprecedented before the unhappy events of the previous year—had gone as quickly as it came, Elizabeth hugged him.

  ‘I will share Kitty’s news with you as soon as I have read the letter and shown it to Jane.’

  ‘Yes; good; good. And has your sister returned?’
r />   ‘I am here.’ Jane appeared at the top of the stairs and made her way down to join them.

  ‘Call for some tea, my dear,’ Mr Bennet opened the door to his library. ‘I will join you directly.’

  Elizabeth turned to follow Jane into the drawing room.

  ‘Are you well, Lizzy? You look a little out of sorts.’

  Elizabeth walked over and took a seat in one of the fireside armchairs. ‘Papa is not himself today.’ Then, she shrugged. ‘It is to be understood, with the anniversary of last year imminent.’

  Jane walked over to pull the bell before turning to take the seat opposite.

  ‘You are not yourself either, Lizzy.’

  ‘Perchance I am also troubled by the season; I feel extraordinarily unsettled.’

  ‘And the return of Mr Darcy has nothing to do with it?’

  ‘Certainly not!’ Elizabeth met Jane’s guileless expression indignantly. ‘I care little enough for the man to be bothered by his being returned. Our paths are unlikely to cross.’

  ‘Do be sensible, Lizzy. How can that be?’

  Elizabeth sat up in her chair. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I met with Mr Darcy in Kympton earlier. He was out walking; such a small neighbourhood must surely lead to frequent encounters of this nature?’

  ‘I will own to having seen him myself—he arrived as I was leaving for my walk.’ Elizabeth sighed. ‘I was in an ill humour, as you know.’

  ‘I suspect he will have thought himself the cause.’ Jane looked a little anxious.

  ‘What makes you think he believes my ill temper down to him?’

  ‘Oh nothing in particular,’ Jane paused. ‘Though he did say he suspects you blame him for the nature of your meeting last night.’

  Elizabeth shrugged. ‘And why should I not?’

  ‘Lizzy! You promised to remain civil towards him!’

  ‘Aye, that I did. Forgive me, Jane?’ Elizabeth gained no pleasure from causing her sister concern, and she leaned forward and grasped Jane’s hands, giving them a gentle squeeze. ‘I was not uncivil when I saw Mr Darcy this morning. Though I was quite thankful when he explained his purpose.’