When Lord Goodrich arrived, she had incorrectly assumed he would be her salvation. Instead, he had…
A sharp yip sounded in the distance and continued in a random rhythm as Elizabeth returned abruptly to the present. Closing the cover of the tome, she ran her palm over the leather before tracing the title with her fingertip. The Thorn and the Rose by Irish author, J.D. Malone. Her aunt had been correct. It was a magnificent tale written by a master storyteller.
Henry barked loudly as he came into her view. Setting the book aside, she stood and walked in the direction of the stile. The path bordered the field with a sharp right-angled turn almost fifty feet from where she had been seated. Ignoring the stairs, the puppy wiggled under the bottom rail of the fence and darted towards the field.
She had fallen asleep the night before with thoughts of the puppy on her mind. When Mr. Darcy had scratched and petted Henry, the dog’s tail had wagged so vigorously it tapped the back of his owner’s boot. How could Henry like Mr. Darcy with the same enthusiasm he had shown her? Traitor!
Henry was now running as fast as his little legs would carry him across the freshly tilled earth. His enthusiasm was contagious.
“Henry!” Her voice filled the silence, the sound traveling quickly in the still air.
The dog stopped, then turned his head towards her.
Elizabeth knew the exact moment he spotted her. He barked three times in quick succession, then dashed in a direct line to where she stood.
Henry was a sight. Nose stretched forward with his tail pointed straight back, the little fellow ran with purpose. Small clumps of straw, mud, and dirt he had collected during his brief sojourn in the furrows were hanging from the fur on his belly. Elizabeth cared not.
Kneeling down, her fingers tingled with the anticipation of burying them in the soft fur.
A sharp whistle rent the air, and everything came to a stop.
Looking up, Elizabeth saw the single-greatest means of deflating her joy dismounting his horse and stepping over the stile.
Drat! Mr. Darcy. Did he have to ruin the fineness of the day?
Glancing about, she assured herself no one would bear witness to this unexpected meeting. The last thing Elizabeth wanted was for her name to be attached to his because of an untrue rumor that they were meeting by intention. Involuntarily, she shuddered at the vision of her mother dragging her to the altar while Mr. Darcy tapped his foot at her efforts to delay the inevitable.
Ignoring the man, Elizabeth stood and approached where the dog had skidded, his nose landing in the dirt a short distance from her feet. Fortunately, he had managed to reach the grassy border of the pathway.
“Good morning, Henry.” She brushed the soil off his face and scratched under his chin. “You are up and about early.”
He yipped his reply, looking back at his master for approval.
Elizabeth’s eyes followed the puppy’s, and the sight in front of her made her laugh.
Mr. Darcy stood as still as a statue. It was obvious he was in a quandary. From his location, he could either stroll across the turned earth like Henry had or walk the perimeter to reach his dog. Or, he could call the puppy away from her and prove himself as unsociable as she already knew him to be, giving further evidence of rudeness unexpected in a gentleman.
She was convinced he would whistle for Henry, else his boots would become caked in the muddy earth Henry had easily skipped over. Thus, she was surprised when moments passed with no shrill blast of air coming from his lips.
Tilting her head to ponder his silence, Elizabeth was shocked when Mr. Darcy continued down the path that would eventually lead him to where she stood.
What? Mr. Darcy was allowing his dog to further his association with her? How was this possible?
Henry took his master’s first step to be permission to leave his stance. He dipped down on his front legs, his hind end wiggling furiously. Then he jumped up, barked, and started spinning in circles. His antics were so adorable, she giggled.
“Sit,” she ordered, her tone quiet but firm.
Stopping in place, Henry sat, his eyes looking at her, begging for more.
Bending down, she stretched out her hand. “Paw.”
Obediently, Henry lifted his front foot about an inch from the ground.
“No. No. No, young man,” Elizabeth kindly remonstrated. “You must present your paw correctly to a lady.” Lifting her own hand a little, she again directed him. This time, Henry complied by raising his paw to her.
“I am pleased to have your company, Henry.” Elizabeth curtseyed to the pup. “Shall we wait for your master or go to meet him?”
No sooner than the words left her mouth, the puppy pulled his paw from her fingers, spun, and ran down the worn trail to Mr. Darcy.
Now, the dilemma was hers. Should she walk to meet him or stand her ground? Perhaps her best choice was to return to Longbourn, pretending he did not exist. If the former, she would be in the unpleasant man’s company. If the later, she could be considered as rude as he.
Sighing as she rolled her eyes in frustration, she knew the best course was to be the lady she was raised to be.
Again, she wondered how a sweet creature like Henry exhibited so much happiness in the company of the man. For, the puppy joyously greeted Mr. Darcy like they were best friends who had been separated for years rather than mere minutes.
In the same vein, how could Mr. Bingley, a man filled with human kindness, have cultivated an acquaintance to the point Mr. Darcy joined him in Hertfordshire for who knows how long?
Deciding there would be no easy answer forthcoming, Elizabeth smiled as Henry ran circles around Mr. Darcy’s boots.
At a subtle hand motion from his owner, the puppy stopped.
Henry displayed all the good manners a country gentleman should have. Mr. Darcy? Not so much.
“Miss Bennet,” Mr. Darcy began.
“Miss Elizabeth,” she corrected. Because Jane was not in the locality, he was theoretically right in his address. But a hint of glee at finding any means to poke the fiend into admitting, even to himself, that he might be wrong was worth it to her.
“Ahem, Miss Elizabeth,” he paused to look down at the dog currently writhing on his back between them, practically begging for someone to scratch his belly. “Henry, would you please behave?”
Ignoring the playful pup, she asked how she might be of service. His reply stirred her ire completely.
“Using kindness and affection towards a man’s animal to attract his attention is a mean art, one to which I have complete immunity. I have no intentions of attaching myself to someone of inferior birth,” he clarified, before clasping his lapels and raising his chin. “When I marry, it will be to an accomplished lady from the highest circles who brings to the union wealth, charm, grace, and knowledge. Not a country miss with no connections who uses a puppy to enhance her allurements.”
What an arrogant ogre!
Wanting to both laugh at his haughtiness and have her temper boil over his denigration of her social position she, instead, inhaled slowly, her eyes never leaving his. Deciding to end the conversation as best as she was able, Elizabeth responded, “You are very much mistaken, sir. I have no interest in a man who is merely tolerable, which you are. Your elevated rank, which apparently you hold in esteem, means nothing to me. Your wealth and breeding have not bought you the deportment of a gentleman. Therefore, you should know that the only thing I find of value in you, Mr. Darcy, is Henry.”
“Tolerable? Do you not know who I am?” His hands fisted as he stepped closer to her. “I am Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire, grandson of an earl, whose family name has been respected for centuries by royalty. Who are you to accuse me of not being a gentleman?”
Elizabeth fumed. “In your conceit, you have insulted me, my family, and neighbors whom I hold dear. You are correct, none of us are the grandchildren of a peer. However, all of us know how to comport ourselves correctly when in company.” Elizabeth clenched her ja
w so hard her ears ached. Again, breathing deeply, she answered, “Were you acting a gentleman when you told your friend at the assembly that I was only tolerable, not handsome enough? Were you being a man of honor when you ignored all of the ladies sitting out the dances? Our shire has had many brave souls volunteer for service to England against France, so there was a shortage of men which was blatantly obvious, was it not?” She stepped close enough to discern he had a light dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose. “I have not had the benefit of a formal education as you have likely had, yet I know better than to come into a new area where I am previously unknown and insult a lady, especially one from a prominent house in the community.”
He said nothing, only stood as still as a statue, his composure not appearing to be affected in the slightest by her vitriolic spew.
“I am done with you, sir. Unfortunately, this means I am also done with darling Henry, as nothing, not even the jovial qualities inherent in your puppy would force me to ever want to be in your presence again.” Her chin lifted. “I am the daughter of a gentleman. Unlike you, I do know how to act.”
Bending down, she patted the top of the puppy’s head, which was tilted in confusion. He probably could not comprehend why two adults he admired saw no value in the other.
“Goodbye, Henry,” she turned and, without another word to the man, grabbed her book from the bower and left.
As she walked away, the whine emitted from the dog’s breaking heart tugged at her own organ. Nevertheless, she was determined. If it meant she did not have to see Mr. Darcy, she would never see that rollicking ball of fur again.
Chapter 3
Elizabeth excitedly turned the page. She had stayed up late the night before reading the book that had captured her imagination and her attention. When the flame of her lone candle had finally sputtered and disappeared, she had mourned having to stop at the brink of discovering whether Lord Goodrich was evil personified (very much in the manner of Mr. Darcy) or a man with a brilliant plan to save both Lady Violet and England.
Vowing to later pen a short note to her aunt in appreciation for sharing something of intrinsic value with her, Elizabeth decided she would read to the end of the chapter first.
Lord Goodrich strolled into the drawing room the following morning at the exact time and manner he had during his prior four daily visits to Castle Connelly. Each time, Lady Violet had been escorted from her tower after being carefully groomed in the best her wardrobe had to offer. Not once had the man spoken directly to her. Each time, he replied to her uncle’s attempts to promote a match between the visitor and her with insults and derision. The contempt spewing from Lord Goodrich’s mouth raised her ire until she spent every one of her waking moments outside of his presence planning revenge of the acutest kind. By far, the discarded implements from the Medieval torture chambers were her favorites.
However, this day proved to be different. Lord Goodrich stepped close to her, his back to Laird McDonald. In a soft tone, he whispered for her ears only…”
Elizabeth was interrupted by the sharp yips of a small dog.
“Oh, no,” she whispered to herself, shaking off the all-consuming fiction to focus on the reality of the situation. “Pray, do not let it be Henry.”
As she had laid in her bed during the night meditating on the similarities between the fictional character in The Thorn and the Rose with their newest neighbor, a quotation from one of her father’s newspapers attributed to Napoleon Bonaparte himself, came to her mind. “Let us wait twenty minutes; when the enemy is making a false movement, we must take good care not to interrupt him.”
Pondering the wisdom in the Frenchman’s words, Elizabeth decided then and there to ignore Mr. Darcy should they be within shouting distance of each other. Thus, he could churn in his own butter. He would feel the full impact of his rude behavior as he interacted with the good people of Meryton. Elizabeth had no doubt it was but a matter of time before Mr. Darcy erred to the point he would be shunned. Then, and only then, would he know the embarrassment and humiliation she felt from his insults.
Dressing quickly, she grabbed a cloth from the laundry pile and ran down the stairs and stepped outside, welcoming one very exhausted puppy. His tongue hung almost to the ground as his body shook from his heavy panting. Elizabeth would have worried Henry was on the verge of collapsing had she not spied his tail.
“You are a silly boy.” Brushing the dirt from his paws and belly with the soft towel, she lifted the wiggling mass into her arms. He felt like the coziest of pillows pressed to her chest, warm and comforting. “What am I going to do with you, Henry? I fear your master will not be pleased with either of us.”
Within seconds of her comment, the man himself galloped towards her home astride the massive horse he had ridden the day prior. Before he dismounted, she approached the mare and handed the dog up to his master.
“Goodbye, Henry.” She gave the puppy one last pat. Without acknowledging Mr. Darcy, she turned and reentered the house.
The following twenty-four-hour period was much the same. Her dearest sister Jane speaking of Mr. Bingley kept Elizabeth from diving back into her story before bedtime. Elizabeth’s early morning reading was again interrupted by the arrival of Henry. This time, as she lifted the pup to Mr. Darcy, she muttered aloud at the man’s inability to contain one little animal.
Mr. Darcy’s face turned the same crimson hue as before. Elizabeth chose not to wait around to see if it was embarrassment or intense anger. Instead, she said her goodbyes to the puppy and went back inside Longbourn.
Later that evening, they were again in company at a small gathering at Lucas Lodge, the home of Sir William Lucas and his family. What started as a pleasant occasion quickly changed to curiosity when Mr. Darcy seemed to have attached himself to her side. Wherever Elizabeth went, Mr. Darcy would soon follow either in person or with a penetrating stare of his impressively thick-lashed eyes.
Whatever was the man about? They had not parted well. Surely, she was the last person on earth he would want to associate with at a gathering.
When Sir William directed the carpets be rolled back for dancing, Elizabeth was stunned when Mr. Darcy asked her to stand up with him for a set. Without pause, she politely refused, saying something about having no intention of dancing for the night.
Before she stepped away from him, the man quietly offered, “Miss Elizabeth, my assumptions about you were wrong. I apologize.”
What?
Lydia Bennet chose that importune second to interrupt by demanding Elizabeth play since she would not be accepting partners for the entertainment.
Shaking her head to clear the opinions swirling in her brain, Elizabeth moved to the pianoforte and played.
The next morning, she woke later than usual. No puppy yips distracted her. Mr. Darcy must have discovered Henry’s escape route and prevented him from leaving Netherfield Park. While she would miss the dog, she refused to miss the man. Therefore, she opened the leather cover of the novel with eager anticipation.
From the events following Lord Goodrich’s whispers in the drawing room, Elizabeth now knew the insults and derision were intended to distract Laird McDonald from a quick disposition of his ward. This allowed her potential beau time enough to find the information he sought. For Lord Garrett Goodrich was not a disreputable rake in need of a wealthy bride. In truth, he was a spy sent to gather information prior to the invasion of British forces against those who had named Charles II as king. Lady Violet’s uncle was their primary suspect as the chief instigator of the rebellion.
Lady Violet gazed up at the man standing alongside her. Where before she had seen arrogance, she now recognized bravery. Where she had assumed disdain, she spied hints of admiration radiating from him.
“Laird McDonald has stockpiled enough arms for a small army under the tower at the opposite end of this edifice. Rumor has it that he has purchased crops and livestock close to the border, so Cromwell’s forces will starve should they enter Scotlan
d. His mission to keep Scotland from establishing a commonwealth is doomed to failure, despite his machinations.” Lord Goodrich glanced around to make sure servants were not close enough to overhear them. “I shall accept McDonald’s latest offer while insisting we wed quickly so you are free of your keep and your keeper.”
She yearned to swoon. He was the handsomest man of her acquaintance. Standing this close, she noted the soft wave of the shoulder-length curls, the cleft in his chin, and the beauty of his clear, blue eyes. He was to be her husband.
Her ire had changed to misgivings when he had first explained the reasoning behind the insults. Her misgivings were now tender feelings blooming in her heart. Lord Goodrich was a valiant, intelligent gentleman who would care for her with kindness. How desperately she longed to be cherished.
A tendril of doubt crept upon her. Was she offering her affection too soon? Was it out of true feelings for the man or might it have been the desperate desire for changed circumstances that was driving her agreement? Was she a silly…
The knock on Longbourn’s heavy wooden door resounded throughout the house. Looking out the window to see the sun was fully up, Elizabeth wondered at the urgency. Dressing quickly, she hurried to the stairway in time to see Hill show Mr. Darcy into the entrance hall.
Henry Page 2
