by Nicky Roth
Caroline Bingley had not cried since she was eight years old, or at least not when it had not served her purpose. Till now it had worked perfectly, but suddenly her sister saw the lack of tears, and it became clear that all those long years she had been played mercilessly by the one person she had put all her trust in. All their mean gossiping and heartless behaviour suddenly made Louisa feel very ashamed. How could she criticise and laugh at someone when so much was wrong with their own behaviour? Turning around she met her husband’s gaze.
“Come Mr. Collins, let the women have a heart to heart.” Hurst offered on sensing the tension, literally pulling Collins with him by the arm while his other hand pushed Wickham forward and towards the exit.
“But what am I to do…?” Mr. Collins stuttered.
“Oh, this is nothing a good glass of brandy cannot solve, if drunken at least eight times a day. Believe me, I know what I am talking about. At least there is one good thing about all this, my sister in law will not return to my house. You cannot imagine how grateful I am to you, Mr. Collins, and I am hardly ever grateful.”
“But…?”
“If you stuff your ears with cotton she is not so wholly bad to have around either. She is not unattractive after all. It is more her personality that is lacking and this insistent voice of hers. As a parson I would have thought you take an eager interest in charitable work?”
“I do, but...”
“Then I congratulate you on your new project, Mr. Collins. People will be impressed for sure, for what you take upon yourself. Be a good example, that is what a parson should be.”
Collins’ reply was uttered too low than for it to be heard.
“How could you do this to me?” Caroline whispered accusingly, wiping away a non-existent tear while at the same time glaring at her sister. Then, stomping her foot angrily, she pushed past the equally livid looking woman.
Sighing again, Louisa Hurst slowly walked back towards the house. How could she feel so horrible when her sister had no scruples at all and still did not see how wrongly she had behaved? And how could she be so angry at the same time? Sure, Mr. Collins was perhaps the least suitable man she possibly could have chosen, but he had overheard her speaking to Lieutenant Saunderson, a good looking young officer with decent prospects she had intended to be her sister’s rescuer. Just then the soldier had been addressed by his colonel, requesting one thing or another of him and Mr. Collins, with his inflated self-importance, had ‘needed’ to step in.
“I, in my position as a clergyman, will be the properest person to come to aid such an unfortunate young woman as your sister, of course. Lady Catherine herself always says that kindness and charity are our greatest duties to our fellow creatures. So how could I not be of assistance after having, quite accidentally I have to say, overheard your troubles?” he had said and with his head held pompously high, had walked outside. It also might have something to do, Louisa thought, with him having just been teased by his cousin, Mr. Bennet, who took delight in pointing out the man’s bigotry. No wonder he needed to prove himself truly charitable in this instance. But it was really most unlucky.
Mrs. Hurst needed another couple of minutes to compose herself. In this rather odd mood she could not face anybody without breaking out in tears, or into hysterical laughter.
Was she as horrible a person as Caroline after all? She should have just said “No!” when Caroline had first introduced her scheme. But when her little sister had asked something of her, she had never been able to say this short negative, and certainly not decisively. This had been supposed to be her liberation from the foul influence of her youngest sibling, yet it did not feel like it at all.
A quarter of an hour later, with a mock smile plastered on her face, Louisa marched into the deserted ballroom and over to the dining room where cheer and laughter filled the air. She had a part to play after all, and the show had to go on.
Caroline was nowhere to be seen. Not surprising, considering the circumstances. It was also not much of a surprise that Wickham and Collins were not present, as the former had been warned off the grounds several hours ago already and even Mr. Collins seemed to have realised that he had been thrown into a barrel of icy cold water, and that avoiding the gossip as long as possible was preferable to explaining what he himself could not yet fully understand.
Sitting down next to her brother Mrs. Hurst helped herself to a bit of soup, but did nothing really but stir around in it, till at last Bingley took notice.
“What is it, Louisa?” he enquired, looking concerned.
“Nothing, Charles.”
“Is it Caroline?”
“Hm.” she huffed and brought a spoon full of soup to her mouth, though not tasting any of it as her mind was too occupied with other thoughts as her eyes darted around the room.
It was with some concern she realised that Mr. Darcy was nowhere to be seen either. Surely, Caroline would not make another attempt at compromising him, would she?
It would have been a relief to be able to answer that she would not, but in her desperation Louisa could not put it past her sister at all.
Oh, had she never agreed to help Caroline in this! And had she never made the resolution to follow her own plans and instead just warned Mr. Darcy of the danger.
Nothing good could ever come from intrigue, she knew as much, and yet her anger had blinded her. Now it was too late.
“Where is Caroline anyway?” her brother carried on. “As hostess she should be here.”
“Yes. Perhaps she has gotten one of her headaches.” replied his sister evasively.
If only she knew where her sister was. She should be in her room, but what if not? When after twenty minutes the master of Pemberley had still not returned either, Louisa grew concerned and panic arose. Glad that at her brother’s request for some music, Miss Mary Bennet had taken the seat at the pianoforte without further ado, Louisa slipped from the dining room again to search the house and look for her Caroline. Better be safe than sorry.
For once in her life she envied her husband for his stoicism. Mr. Hurst sat calmly at the table, clearly enjoying his meal as he sat there eating in silence, a self-satisfied smirk on his face and a rather suspicious twinkle of amusement in his eyes.
What on earth was going on? Had she lost her mind? Had he?
Chapter 13
♥♥♥
“Ah Miss Elizabeth, I have been looking for you.” George Hurst smiled, descending the stairs and puzzling the young woman before him.
“For me?” she asked him in astonishment, “Why?”
“Unfortunately your sister has sprained her ankle and is now resting upstairs. She has been asking for you.”
At this information Elizabeth Bennet looked at him in alarm.
“Which one?” she at last enquired, as she recalled that she had just seen Jane and Lydia dance, though she could not account for either Mary or Kitty.
“I have to admit I am not quite sure. I never seem able to remember the names of your younger sisters.” the man admitted, and for a moment Elizabeth thought to see a sneaky grin spread over his face. But before she could be certain of it, the expression had changed to a serious one again and at any rate, he had no reason to lie to her, had he?
Following him, Mr. Hurst led her to the one bedroom Jane had occupied during her illness. The room was dark, but she thought she could discern a figure on the bed, curled up and blankets covering the whole of her form.
“Kitty?” Elizabeth softly enquired, stepping towards the bed, while Hurst softly closed the door behind her, leaving her to tend to her sister.
“Kitty?” Elizabeth repeated, for she was almost sure it must be Catherine, as it was highly unlikely that Mary would have sprained an ankle sitting safely on a chair in one of the corners.
When still no answer came she grew ever more concerned, and stepping over to the bed she pulled aside the blanket to reveal a rolled up bundle of bed clothes.
“What is this?” she cried out, staring i
ncredulously at the sheets, pillows and blankets before her.
“What on earth does this man mean by this? Is this supposed to be a joke?”
Fuming Elizabeth attempted to open the door, only to find it firmly locked.
Many things went on in her mind at that moment, but none of the thoughts could provide her with a reasonable explanation as to why Mr. Hurst had locked her in here. For an instance she thought about calling for help, but thought the better of it. There was no-one around here anyway and downstairs the music was playing again. She would wear herself out without anybody being able to hear her. Sighing she sat down on the bed, leaning back against the pillows. It was just as well to rest a bit, calm down and take a more rational approach, instead of crying herself hoarse.
“Darcy, thank good you are here, I have been looking for you. Come quickly!” George Hurst panted, looking decidedly out of breath as he hurried down the stairs.
“What is it, Hurst?” a bewildered Fitzwilliam Darcy asked.
Hurst, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his handkerchief grimaced.
“This fellow you have asked to leave earlier tonight – what was his name? Wilson? Willis? Witham?”
“Wickham!”
“Ah yes, that one. Well, I have just come across him in the gardens. Actually, I almost stepped on him as he was lying there in the driveway, completely drunk and almost unconscious. But he mumbled something, which I think might be better not to repeat here where someone might overhear. Highly indecent, I tell you. Made even me blush. Not that I believe in any of it.”
Despite his irritation, Darcy chuckled at this. George Hurst was not a man unaccustomed to profanity, of so much he was certain, and for him to blush would have been something.
“Anyway, I have taken the liberty of asking two footmen to bring him upstairs and there he is lying in a bed now.” Hurst carried on, pointing up the stairs.
“Yes, the man has a knack for being a pain in the backside.” Darcy sighed. Was he never going to be rid of this scoundrel?
Turning around he made to leave but was held back by his companion: “I know there is no love lost between the two of you, but I think you might want to have a look at him, and if necessary slap some sense into him. You would not want to have him repeat any of what he has just said, believe me.”
Frowning Darcy ascended the stairs. Dare the man to say something about his intended elopement with his little sister! As he was certain that this must be what Hurst had been referring to. Thank goodness at least Hurst had had the sense of not mentioning the subject in the middle of a fairly busy hallway.
“There it is.”
His host’s brother in law pointed out the door to him, and boldly Darcy flung it open to step inside.
He had not crossed the threshold when he was pushed further in, the door slammed shut behind him and the key was turned in the lock.
“Hurst? Hurst! What is the meaning of this?” Darcy cried out.
“Oh never mind. It is all in your best interest, believe me.” the man on the other side of the door replied, rubbing his hands with glee.
“But…?”
“Mr. Darcy!”
“Miss Bennet!
Chapter 14
♥♥♥
“This is truly unbelievable!” Elizabeth Bennet cried out, her hand on the door knob which she had just unsuccessfully tried to turn.
But there was no denying it, the door was as locked as it had been before. With a frown she glanced about the dark room and at the bed where she had been told her sister would by lying nursing her injured ankle. Had she been puzzled to find herself locked into the room before, now with Mr. Darcy here she really did not know what was going on any more.
“Oh, I should have known this to be a trick!” Elizabeth stormed on. “Had Kitty really sprained her ankle I would have heard about it, I am sure. She has never been able to deal with pain without starting to cry and wail. Then again, we have been dancing for half an hour and I might not have heard her over the music. I never saw her after the supper set started. So, it seems I am trapped here with you.”
The man she addressed looked equally agitated. Not that he disliked being in the same room with her, quite to the contrary. But if they were found like this, locked in a bedroom together, they surely would be forced to marry. Not that he disliked the thought of that either.
“Well, I was told Wickham would be lying up here to sober up. I have to admit I believed Hurst unconditionally. It is just like the blackguard to linger behind and empty the liquor cabinet and then pass out outside so drunk all he talks is incoherent nonsense. Hurst said he almost stepped on him. ‘Not that it would have mattered much, but I was concerned someone might stumble and fall. And let us be honest, it is always quite a chore to get a man out of the springing of ones carriage, an officer in particular as they are meant to be a hardy lot.’” Darcy imitated Hurst quite well.
“I would not have thought him to be so humorous.” Elizabeth chuckled despite herself and her bright eyes sparkled in the dim light of the moon outside.
“You would be surprised, Miss Bennet, he can be very good company if he likes the people well enough.” Darcy replied with a smile, tempted to pull her close, his whole being longing to be ever so much closer to her. How had he not realised he was a lost man already?
“It seems to be the general habit with men, Mr. Darcy.” Elizabeth replied thoughtfully.
“How so?” the master of Pemberley asked slightly bewildered.
“Well, I was once told, that you are good company around people you know well and like, and my father is much the same. And now you tell me Mr. Hurst is also pleasant in the right company. When I stayed here he seemed to do nothing but eat, sleep and drink. Oh, and play cards of course.”
“You should see his imitation of the Prince Regent! No, he is rarely asleep when he appears to be so. He normally just does not want to join in the conversation, and with some of our party pretending to have dozed off is the wisest path to choose. I have to say I wonder what he meant by his remark at this being in our best interest. It can hardly be in our interest to be forced into marriage.”
“No. As I have gathered your family certainly has other expectations for you, while mine presumably could not be more thrilled.” a rueful grin crossed her features.
“And you?” Mr. Darcy enquired, looking at his companion with curious intensity. “Would you be thrilled?”
Elizabeth Bennet was rarely startled by a simple question, but at this she did not know how to reply and blushed rather becomingly. She certainly did not dislike him any more. Their conversations had always been rather pleasant, though impertinent. – Well, if one ignored his remark about her only being tolerable and her own behaviour last week when he had tried to warn her about Wickham. He did not seem to hold it against her however, and there were no two ways about it, she had liked to dance with him above all her other partners tonight. The way they had moved together had been much d’accord, so much so that Sir William had to interrupt them and congratulated them on it.
“I have heard you are engaged to your cousin, Mr. Darcy. Does Miss Bingley know this?” she said instead, when she had been unable to voice what was on her mind, bewildered that her perception of him had indeed altered greatly within the last few days.
Rolling his eyes Darcy chuckled before answering: “You have been misinformed, Miss Bennet. I am not engaged to my cousin Anne, as I presume you have had this information form your cousin Mr. Collins, who seems to be my aunt’s current charity project. But admittedly I would not mind Miss Bingley believe I were.”
Another wry smile was all the ladies reply.
“But of course I should not have said so.” he added. “It was not very gentlemanly.”
“No, but it was honest, was it not?”
Nodding he walked over to the window which led out onto the law to the side of Netherfield, the side were this evening not a soul would venture as the ballroom was on the other one of the impressive
house. With some concern it struck him that the upper floor of this wing was currently completely unoccupied and wondered when at last someone would appear to set them free.
“As honest as your first assessment about my appearance.” she smilingly stated, an eyebrow arched elegantly.
“Excuse me? I have not the pleasure of understanding you.” Darcy looked honestly puzzled.
“When you stated I was just about tolerable. - No, do not look alarmed, I am merely teasing you.” Elizabeth laughed. “After my misjudgement of Mr. Wickham, I have to confess, I have come to realise that I have greatly misjudged you also. Can you forgive me?”
“There is nothing to forgive, Miss Elizabeth. And even if there were, you have been forgiven with all my heart already. As a matter of fact I cannot find it within me to be angry with you for any length of time.” here he smiled warmly before continuing with returned bewilderment: “But I have always considered you more than just tolerable. I do faintly remember making this remark to Bingley, but it was not about you. I would have gladly danced with you, but did not realise you also were sister to Miss Bennet. It was your younger sister sitting next to you I referred to, while I was actually quite sorry for not being introduced to you.”
At this statement Elizabeth was nothing but surprised. But true, when Mr. Bingley had been introduced to them it had been Mary standing next to Jane, not her. She had stood aside and had only been introduced to Bingley later. Now, it indeed did seem as if perhaps she was too quick minded and consequently judged to rashly. The night progressed and the more they spoke, the closer they got.
The sun was about to rise when Darcy woke up, his arm wrapped around Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s sleeping form. Propping his head onto his elbow he could not help admiring her. It would be something to wake up like this every morning, though preferably less attired. He had taken off his coat but had kept on the rest of his clothes, while Miss Bennet was still dressed in her plain but most becoming ball gown, which had only slipped up high enough to let him see her stockinged calves.
