‘There would seem to be evidence to the contrary. Indeed, he has shown nothing but civility, and that beyond the common necessities. I do not believe you have lost his good opinion; and nor do you, Lizzy.’
‘Everything points to you having the right of it, Jane; yet I cannot comprehend why it should be so.’
‘Do you -‘ Jane hesitated as Elizabeth’s gaze met hers. ‘Could he still retain feelings for you?’
Elizabeth leapt to her feet again. ‘No! Of course not. Besides...’ she bit her lip and turned away.
There was a faint rustling and then Jane placed a hand upon her shoulder as she came to stand beside her. ‘Besides, Lizzy?’
Elizabeth turned to face her sister. ‘Mr Darcy is to be wed. Miss Darcy told me so; and the lady he has chosen is coming here—to Pemberley.’
Jane looked taken aback, and for a moment the only sound was of the fire crackling in the grate. ‘And, dear Lizzy,’ she took her sister’s hands in her own. ‘How does this make you feel?’
Elizabeth’s eyes dropped to their clasped hands. ‘I do not know. Leastways,’ she raised troubled eyes to her sister. ‘I do not wish to think about it. Please, Jane; let us speak of him no more.’
She fidgeted under her sister’s steady gaze. Then, Jane gave her a quick hug. ‘As you wish, Lizzy.’
Grateful for the respite, Elizabeth sought another topic as her sister returned to her seat by the hearth. ‘Papa showed me the invitation to the Seymours’ ball this morning. It was most elegant, all embossed paper and in a graceful hand. I do hope you are well enough to attend, Jane, for I have told Papa I shall not go without you.’
Jane smiled. ‘I am already feeling a little better. I am sure with ample rest I will soon be myself again. Have you given any thought to what you might wear?’
Elizabeth had. If she were honest, it had been the first thought in her head, along with...
‘I wonder if Mr Darcy will attend?’
‘Jane!’ Torn between exasperation and amusement at her sister’s smirk, Elizabeth picked up a small cushion from the bed and threw it at her sister who caught it neatly and laughed.
Elizabeth turned towards the closets lining the far wall. This talk of Mr Darcy, this constant assault upon her senses by the gentleman, must cease. The sooner his cousin and his other guests arrived to claim him—and his sister’s attention—the better. With this resolve in mind, Elizabeth began to sift through her sister’s gowns. Preparation for a ball would be a more than adequate distraction, would it not?
~o0o~
The following morning saw sufficient improvement in Jane’s health for her to join her father and sister at the breakfast table, and though her appetite remained poor, she did manage to eat a little bread spread with one of Cook’s homemade preserves.
Mr Bennet eyed her across the table. ‘You are pale yet, Jane. I would advise not being out of your chamber for long.’
‘I feel so much better, Papa.’ Jane smiled at her father. ‘But I will heed your counsel. Lizzy is determined I shall be well enough to attend the ball at the Seymours’ on Tuesday.’
‘Indeed I am.’ Elizabeth picked up the teapot and refreshed their cups. ‘Is it possible to defer returning calls to our recent visitors until Jane is quite well again, Papa?’
‘I would defer them permanently if it were in my power to do so, my dear.’ Mr Bennet looked from Elizabeth to Jane, then grunted. ‘But as Mr Darcy has taken it upon himself to formally establish us in the neighbourhood, we are honour bound to conform.’
To her surprise, Elizabeth found herself resenting her father’s lack of appreciation, and she frowned. ‘You do not blame Mr Darcy, surely? He gains nothing from having made such a gesture; ‘tis all to our advantage, is it not?’
Mr Bennet raised a brow. ‘You seek to defend the gentleman, Lizzy! What alteration is this?’
Warmth filled Elizabeth’s cheeks, and she glanced uneasily at her sister, who turned to their father. ‘We are indebted to Mr Darcy for his kindness, are we not, Papa?’
‘Hmmph!’ Mr Bennet’s gaze remained with Elizabeth, and she turned her attention to the plate before her in the hope it would prevent further comment.
Thankfully, a light rap came upon the door, and Alice entered.
‘The post has just arrived, sir.’ She placed it beside Mr Bennet and came to fuss over Jane for a moment before leaving the room. Elizabeth, confident the moment had passed, looked up at her father who had put aside a calling card and held in his hand not just the usual brown packet from Gracechurch Street but also a white envelope.
Elizabeth smiled and held out a hand. ‘Is it from Kitty, or Mary this time?’
Her father shook his head, and she dropped her hand to her lap.
‘Neither, Lizzy.’ He showed them the front of the envelope bearing nothing but his name. ‘Delivered by hand; let us see who is demanding our company this time.’ He broke the seal and unfolded the paper, but as he read, his skin reddened, and Jane and Elizabeth exchanged a worried glance.
‘Papa?’ Raising his head to stare at Elizabeth, Mr Bennet folded the note quickly. ‘What is it?’
‘Nothing to concern.’ He rose from the table, dropping his napkin upon his chair. ‘You must excuse me, my dears; an invitation of sorts, but it warrants a swift response.’ He turned away, but then remembered to retrieve the brown packet before leaving the room.
‘How singular!’ Elizabeth turned to her sister with a smile. ‘I wonder who might invite Papa to something that warrants such an urgent reply?’ Then, she laughed. ‘Perchance he has met with a lady.’
Jane looked taken aback. ‘But surely she would not address him in such a way?’
‘Who is to say it is not a long-standing acquaintance?’ She winked at her sister, and Jane gasped.
‘Lizzy! You must not say such things, even in jest! What if someone heard—‘
The door opened suddenly, but it was only Alice. ‘I saw the master leave; have you partaken of sufficient for now?’
‘Yes, thank you, Alice.’ Jane rose to her feet and pulled her shawl about her shoulders. ‘Lizzy, will you come and sit with me for a while? I will do as Papa suggested and return to my chamber for the rest of the morning.’
‘Good girl,’ Alice nodded at them as they made for the door. ‘Cook is preparing fresh broth, and I shall bring it to you directly.’
Jane almost rolled her eyes as they left the room, and Elizabeth smirked. It seemed their attentive staff were not done caring for their precious charge yet!
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Having kept Jane company for an hour, Elizabeth left her to rest for the remainder of the morning and settled in the drawing room with her needlework. Her father had gone into Lambton and, left to her own devices, she was soon tempted by the sunny day to go out.
Her favourite walk she negated as she did not wish to be too far from home in case Jane did not sleep for long, so she ambled along the lane towards Kympton, stopping now and again to sample the newly ripened blackberries in the hedgerows.
After her conversation with Jane on the previous day, she had tried hard not to dwell upon her unsettled feelings, and to some extent she had succeeded, at least so far as to not be wondering every five minutes where Mr Darcy might be or what he might be doing. She found this preoccupation with the gentleman quite unfathomable, and—
‘Miss Bennet!’
Reverend Wentworth was approaching her along the lane, and she smiled.
‘Good morning, sir!’
Despite teasing her sister over the clergyman not suiting the colour black, it barely detracted from his appeal, and as he joined her, Elizabeth admired his tall frame and intelligent countenance. A greater contrast to Mr Collins it was hard to imagine!
‘Well met, ma’am. I was on my way to enquire after your sister. How is she faring?’
‘She is much improved, but resting at present, and Papa is gone into Lambton. How are the parishioners who were unwell last week?’
&nb
sp; ‘Thankfully, also improving. May I join you on your walk?’
Elizabeth smiled. ‘I wished for some air, but did not want to go far. Kympton and back will suffice for today!’
Wentworth fell into step beside her, and they talked for a while about the needs of his parish, with Elizabeth offering to step in for Jane and take a basket of goods to one of the hamlets later, but then, with some hesitation, the gentleman mentioned Pemberley.
‘I had not known—I did not comprehend the connection existing between your family and the Darcys.’
Guessing where his concern lay, Elizabeth sought to put him at his ease. ‘Truly, sir, it is of little consequence. Our prior acquaintance was but fleeting and stems merely from when Mr Darcy made some stay in our old neighbourhood.’
‘Yet it is the talk of the district.’
This did not please Elizabeth. They had been subjected to being the ‘talk of the district’ before, and it brought back unpleasant memories.
‘I wish it were not!’
Wentworth looked surprised. ‘But this change will bring opportunities—through Pemberley House and beyond, will it not?’ His air and countenance spoke of dissatisfaction, and Elizabeth suspected she understood why. Yet if it was of such concern to him, why did he not speak to Jane of it?
Elizabeth understood the impertinence of saying anything, but having seen the result of Jane and Bingley not being open with each other, was determined to do so. ‘Forgive me; I do not wish to speak out of turn, but ‘tis impossible not to detect a certain regard between you and my sister.’
‘A regard, you say? I can only hope.’ Wentworth sighed. ‘If we are to speak openly, I fear I am beneath her; I have always felt thus, and such an alteration as this merely confirms it.’
Feeling for him, Elizabeth shook her head. ‘Not at all. Had you thought to address my sister on this, sir? Only she can truly know her own mind.’
Wentworth looked a little awkward. ‘I will own to not being confident of my reception.’ He met her gaze openly. ‘You perhaps think me weak-hearted, Miss Bennet, but I have seen at first hand the impact, the abject sorrow of rejection.’
Elizabeth’s heart lurched in her chest, and she clasped her hands. Surely he could not mean... but no; Mr Darcy had only just returned to Pemberley. He had not been here when he was dealing with the aftermath of her refusal.
‘I speak of my brother, ma’am.’ He stared across the fields, clearly deep in memories. ‘Back in the year six, he offered for a young lady to whom he had become most seriously attached; he believed the depth of affection to be reciprocated, but though she at first accepted him, she was persuaded against the match. He was—still is, though he would not admit it—profoundly affected by his loss.’
Deeply moved herself, Elizabeth touched the reverend lightly on his arm, and he looked down at her. ‘I can imagine the effect and how it might linger.’
Wentworth nodded. ‘Frederick took himself back to sea. For a time, I feared for his safety; he became reckless. But now, I see a mellower side to him. He has himself under good regulation.’ He smiled. ‘I hope very much to introduce him to your family’s acquaintance when next he is at leisure on land. Mr Darcy has spoken already of wishing to welcome him to the estate. He is a good man, the master of Pemberley, is he not?’
What was Elizabeth to say? ‘Yes—yes, he is.’ Yet she did not wish to talk about the gentleman, and as they were now entering Kympton, she bade her companion farewell.
‘You have not called to take tea with us for a se’nnight, Mr Wentworth. You know you are most welcome at any time.’
‘As soon as Miss Bennet is fully recovered, I will call. I have missed my regular visits.’
Elizabeth smiled warmly at him. ‘I am quite certain Jane has missed them too!’
Wentworth stared at her for a second, then slowly a smile lightened his features. ‘Then I will await intelligence of Miss Bennet’s full recovery and be with you directly.’
~o0o~
The fine weather held into the afternoon, and with Bingley taking the twins and Georgiana into Lambton in search of sketching paper for Viola, Darcy soon had his mount saddled, and he set off at a fair pace across the green fields stretching away from Pemberley. He needed escape from his interminable thoughts, and a swift ride across the estate would surely suffice in supplanting them.
He tried to concentrate upon his upcoming visitors, and specifically upon Miss Latimer and how soon after her arrival he ought to finalise things between them, but to no avail. It seemed there was nothing he could do to keep a certain other young lady at bay, and he was beginning to understand the cause. Poor though his initial judgement had been of Elizabeth’s understanding of his character and worth, he surely was not in error now? Their recent meetings had shown no indication of her former manner towards him; any hint of disdain was decidedly lacking.
Thus, no matter how hard he attempted to forego any thought of her, the same question kept drifting through his mind: how favourably did she now look upon him?
Frustrated with failing to outpace his thoughts, Darcy reined in his mount as they emerged onto a lane, and he looked around to ascertain their position. Then, he almost laughed aloud, patting his steed on the neck as he leaned forward and whispered in his ear, ‘Was this your doing, or mine, Bedivere?’
Sitting up in the saddle again, Darcy stared at the distant chimney pots of The Grange, but then a movement caught his eye as a figure emerged from a footpath up ahead. It was Elizabeth, and she was walking away from him, a large basket on her arm.
The sensible thing would be to turn about and ride as swiftly as he could back to Pemberley, but it seemed sense had done with him for the time being. Swinging down from the saddle, Darcy looped the reins about his hand and walked after her, his mount following behind. Elizabeth soon glanced over her shoulder, and he was relieved when she turned around to await him.
‘Good afternoon, Miss Bennet.’
‘Mr Darcy.’ They acknowledged each other, but as their eyes met once more, Darcy found he could not look away.
There was an air of such vibrancy about her, such vitality… her chestnut curls were somewhat disarrayed, her cheeks lightly flushed, and her rich brown eyes sparkled as he was assailed by the memory of her arrival at Netherfield in the early days of their acquaintance.
Elizabeth said nothing and Darcy cleared his throat, then gestured towards the laden basket she held.
‘You are on an errand?’
‘I have been to see Mrs Thatcher.’ She indicated the contents. ‘Her baby has come, so I have brought some bedding home to be laundered. Jane would have gone, but she has been a little unwell this past eight and forty hours.’
‘I am sorry to hear it. I trust Miss Bennet is improving?’
‘Yes, indeed, sir. ‘Twas but a cold in the head.’ An impish smile touched Elizabeth’s lips. ‘I think she desires a return to full health more to escape the ministrations of our housekeeper than anything else!’
Darcy smiled. He could well recall Alice! Then, remembering the ease with which Wentworth had relieved Miss Bennet of her own basket the other day, he stepped forward.
‘Here, let me help you.’ He grasped the handle of the basket, expecting Elizabeth to concede it. How was it he made the same mistake yet, under-estimating her determination—or was it simply her stubbornness?
Whatever the reason, the lady did not concede and, with his having a far stronger arm, gripping the wicker handle as he had with his fencing one, when he attempted to tug the basket from her grasp, she perforce came with it.
It brought them extremely close, though thankfully the basket itself formed a natural barrier between them. Otherwise, Elizabeth would now be stood upon his toes.
For a moment, neither spoke, but then she slowly released her grip on the basket and took a step backwards.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered, and he nodded, speech quite beyond him.
Then, Elizabeth smiled. ‘This is the second time you have re
ndered me a service, Mr Darcy.’
‘It is my pleasure. Do you—‘ He gestured along the lane. ‘Do you return to The Grange?’
‘I do indeed.’
‘Then perhaps I may walk with you?’
Elizabeth looked amused at this. ‘You are most welcome to join me, Mr Darcy, if you do not mind the brevity of the exercise.’
She turned around, and he fell into step beside her, trying to ignore the thumping of his heart in his ears. He only hoped she could not hear it too!
They talked of the fine weather as they made their way along the lane and of Darcy’s anticipation of his cousin’s arrival on the following day, and before long they reached the gates to The Grange. Elizabeth led him to the stone block beside the main entrance, and he passed the basket back to her and regained his mount.
‘Thank you for your escort, sir. At least you can now resume your ride.’ Elizabeth smiled. ‘The grounds of Pemberley hold such beauties of nature that I cannot account for your leaving them for the dullness of our lane.’
‘It was no hardship.’ Do not say it; you must not. ‘And I did not find the lane the least bit dull.’
The pink in Elizabeth’s cheeks deepened; she seemed at a loss for words, and with a hasty ‘Good day, sir’ she curtseyed and walked to the door.
Darcy did not move until the door had closed behind her, but then he drew in a long shallow breath as he urged his mount down the driveway. So much for having a plan and adhering to it; if he did not exercise caution, his carefully ordered life would once more be in tatters.
~o0o~
Alice was hovering in the hall when Elizabeth entered the house.
‘He did not wish to come in for some refreshment, then, Miss Lizzy?’
The housekeeper relieved Elizabeth of the basket, then held out her hand for her coat and bonnet.
‘Who?’
All but rolling her eyes, Alice whipped Elizabeth’s gloves from her hand. ‘Why, your young man, of course!’
Elizabeth hurried towards the staircase. ‘He is not my young man, Alice!’
A Quest for Mr Darcy Page 18
