The Darcy Estate

by Bannatyne, Mary

  “It does. I am glad in a way that Edward’s business prevented us from travelling last summer—unfortunate as it was. We would never have been able to go as far as we can go this year. Why, do you know… oh, you tell her, my dear!”

  Mr. Gardiner was sitting opposite them. He had been quiet for most of the journey so far as his wife and their niece chatted about matters that had been neglected since Lydia’s disappearance became the chief concern of both households. Now that his wife called upon him, he smiled widely and looked at Lizzy. To her mind, he appeared fit to burst from holding in a secret, though she was relieved to see that it must have been a good one, to judge from his smile.

  “What is it?” she cried, when he did not answer for some time.

  “Well, my dear,” he said, looking adoringly at his wife. “I have decided that we will not just take in the Lakes as planned, but we might even venture as far as Scotland.”

  “Scotland?” she gasped. Elizabeth had spent long and pleasurable hours reading Celtic tales of old. She was enthralled by the stories of rugged highland men and the womenfolk who seemed somehow braver and hardier than their southern counterparts. Perhaps her fascination had come as a result of her inability to do anything to help her sister’s cause the previous year. She had no doubt that one of those fierce Scotswomen would have found a way to resolve things.

  He winked. “Your father told me you have become something of an expert on the subject.”

  “It is true I have spent a lot of time reading the myths and legends. I find it fascinating that it is so close to us and yet so different. The customs. The…” she stopped and thought of her sister’s letter from the previous year. Oh, how they had been so desperate to stop Lydia from marrying! Looking back on it, Lydia’s marriage might have been the one thing that could have saved her—if only they had found her in time.

  She turned and looked out the window, telling herself to forget her sister. It was not cruelty that compelled her to do so. This was the last time she might ever get away from Longbourn for an extended period. It was not the time to think of Lydia, when nothing more could be done.

  “Oh, Uncle Edward! This is a most wonderful surprise! Why did you not tell my parents? They would surely have said something if they had known—especially my mother.”

  Edward smiled. “You know my sister well. Yes, I fear even if I had begged Fanny to keep silent she would have let it slip somehow or other. But no, it was not discretion that kept me from telling them. The truth is I had not decided one way or the other.”

  “But we only left this morning!”

  “I know,” he smiled. “It is hardly the best decision where my business is concerned, but I have other factors to consider. An extra few weeks shall hardly cripple me and it will do you well to spend as much time out of Hertfordshire as possible. You are pale and drawn, my dear. I do not like to see it. And it will do us good too. Now then. What is to be seen first? I propose we head straight to Scotland. That way we can get the travelling out of the way at the outset and enjoy ourselves slowly meandering south again when we have seen and done everything there is to see and do. That is unless you have a different idea my dears?”

  There was no dissent to his suggestion. Elizabeth looked at her aunt and smiled. Already she could feel the long-held tension begin to slip away from her.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  It took longer than Darcy had hoped to rouse a group of men. Three days passed. By the time Jones informed him they were ready to leave, he was itching to go north and get it done so he could return to his sister’s side.

  As soon as Jones left the room, Mrs. Reynolds entered. He knew from the look on her face that something was troubling her.

  “Speak, Mrs. Reynolds. For goodness sake, you must know by now that there is no sense in attempting to protect me from the truth.”

  She smiled nervously and bowed her head. “Forgive me, sir, if I am being presumptuous.”

  “You are not. That I know of. Go on.”

  “Well, your sister’s condition is improved. And it is not that I have been interfering, but I am aware of your intention to travel north. Now, she is still weak, but I worry that she will deteriorate when you are gone. Your presence makes her stronger—I am convinced of it. Perhaps you would consider taking her with you.”

  He cleared his throat. “Mrs. Reynolds. I might have agreed to it were it not for the unusual circumstances of my visit. I cannot share the details of it with you, for it is a rather troubling affair indeed. But I regret that it is not suitable at all for…” he stopped when he saw the look on her face. “What is it?”

  She looked down at her shoes. “I know all about the reasons for your journey north. My sister’s boy, Daniel. He is one of the ones who is to accompany you.”

  “Am I to understand that every person on this estate is discussing my affairs?”

  “Heavens no! I was visiting my sister and she happened to mention that Daniel would not be here this Sunday. Now, her other son is having his child christened, so she had no choice to tell me. It would have been odd for him to miss that except in extreme circumstances.”

  Darcy nodded, regretting his bad temper. Of course his servants and tenants talked. That was a reality he had come to terms with long ago. “So you know the possible dangers we face then.”

  Mrs. Reynolds made a face and immediately looked away. “You must excuse my bluntness sir, but I care for your sister. Perhaps there is danger—I know little of these things. But you are well-respected by the men, sir. Daniel, my nephew, is a strong and strapping lad. The others are the same. They are brave and loyal. You have been kind to them, see, and they do not forget. I cannot imagine it will take you long to see off those villains.” She dipped her head. “Perhaps then you might enjoy some time at the Scottish estate with your sister. I have heard it said that the moss that grows by the loch has curative powers the likes of nothing that can be found around here.”

  Darcy leant back in his chair. When she first suggested it, he had thought it out of the question. In fact, only his affection for Mrs. Reynolds had stopped him from interrupting and telling her it was an outlandish idea. But as she had explained and tried to convince him, he had found himself considering the idea.

  After all, Georgiana did not need to be anywhere close to the conflict. He could deposit her at an inn and return for her as soon as he had driven those men from his land and made an example of them.

  “Tell me about this moss, Mrs. Reynolds. Your honest opinion, if you do not mind. Is it folklore or fairy-tale, do you think, or is there some truth to it?”

  He listened carefully as she began to tell him a story about a boy she had once known and how all hope had been abandoned for him until he supped from a broth made from the miraculous moss.

  In truth, of course, Darcy had already made up his mind before Mrs. Reynolds even got to the conclusion of her story.

  He had no choice but to go to Scotland and he could not bear to leave his sister alone so far away. In the end, what else could he do but take her with him? And perhaps Mrs. Reynolds was right, even though he was sceptical of such miracle balms and cures.

  “Yes,” he said quietly. “Yes, I think I shall take her with me. Mrs. Reynolds, will you see to it that her trunk is packed and the doctor is summoned? But be quick—I do not wish to delay our departure any longer.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  The journey was gruelling, though all agreed it was worth it to earn the luxury of meandering around Scotland at their leisure later. They hardly spent any time at all in the inns they stopped at, except to eat dinner and then fall into deep, immediate sleep. Often, they would forego breakfast in favour of resuming their journey a little earlier and eating bread and potted meat as they went.

  Elizabeth Bennet’s good mood was not diminished one bit. If anything, her spirits improved the farther they got from Hertfordshire. She had not been aware of the strictures placed on her until she got away from them and became reacquainted with the feeling
of being utterly free.

  When they stopped at inns, they were the Gardiner party. There were none of the sidelong glances or sniggers that she had witnessed on the few occasions she had travelled with her own family since Lydia absconded.

  It took several long days of travel, but they amused themselves playing at cards in the carriage. All three were relaxed enough not to care when the carriage jolted and caused the cards to fly in the air or fall to the ground. On many occasions, they had to deal again and again, especially as they reached the border and the quality of the road became rather poor.

  Elizabeth felt alive again. She had not realised it, but the past year had taken a dramatic toll on her. The farther they got from London and Hertfordshire, the more likely it was that they would not encounter anyone who knew what had gone on. Not that she particularly minded—she had long since decided that anyone who might ridicule her for her sister’s sins was not a person worth knowing.

  On their last day of travel, they lodged at an inn only five miles or so from the border. Though they planned to travel as far north as possible before stopping to enjoy their surroundings, they found themselves bewitched by the town of Gretna Green, which they arrived at early the following morning thanks to their typical early departure.

  The plan changed. Instead of going all the way north without stopping, they would pause at Gretna Green to eat and explore. All of them had grown tired of eating bread in a moving carriage, though it had done little to dampen their spirits. In any case, Mr. Gardiner had grown concerned for the welfare of the horses. They were used to short journeys in London. How their feet must ache after travelling almost the length of the country. So it was settled. A servant was sent on to feed and stable the horses, and the little band of travellers would explore the town before sitting down to breakfast.

  It was a break they could well afford to take—even if they idled for a few hours, they could still be back on the road well before noon. What flexibility the long summer days afforded them! Elizabeth fancied that the days stretched on even longer in the north than they did in Hertfordshire. She was about to tell this to her aunt when they walked past a forge and she saw the most arresting sight.

  “Aunt Gardiner, look! That girl cannot be more than sixteen.”

  They stopped and watched. The forge was little more than a roof that had been pitched between two shops in the main street. It was obviously a working place and not one that was meant to please the sensibilities of visitors.

  A huge fire roared in the corner, adding to the already stifling heat. Apprentices hammered incessantly at red-hot metal—the sound was almost overwhelming.

  That was not remarkable. Elizabeth had seen the same thing at the forge in Meryton and every other forge she had ever passed. There was nothing remarkable about the soot-covered face and arms of the blacksmith, a huge man whose strength could be in no doubt.

  No, what had captivated Elizabeth’s attention and made her cry out to her aunt was the sight of the nervous young lady who was standing before a huge anvil and looking anxiously up at a gangly young man who appeared roughly the same age. Her gown was so perfectly white that Elizabeth felt the strangest urge to hurry forward and cover it with her travelling cloak, lest any of the soot and dust of the place cling to it and diminish it somehow.

  The girl was paying little heed to her dress. At that moment, all of her attention was focused on the young man beside her. There could be no doubt as to the purpose of their presence there.

  “They must have eloped,” Madeleine Gardiner whispered. “It is quite common, though rarely spoken of. I imagine from his appearance that the young lad did not have enough to offer the father, but this young couple was so determined to wed that they could not accept his refusal.”

  Elizabeth nodded. She was only half listening now. She was transfixed by the sight of them, especially now that the blacksmith had stopped what he was doing and come to stand before them. He towered over them, even the young man, and his bulk was more both of them combined. He struck the anvil and two of the older apprentices stopped what they were doing and hurried over to stand behind the young pair.

  It made her wistful to see it. How very much in love they looked! Elizabeth was not a romantic in any sense, but she had to own that the past year of exile from society had turned her into more of a daydreamer than she had ever been. She knew why. For her, love would always be something to imagine rather than to experience. She was too sensible to marry a man who was penniless, but who else could be expected to marry a daughter of Thomas Bennet? Her father had once been a well-regarded gentleman. Now he was known in their circles simply as the father who had stood by as his daughter thoroughly disgraced herself.

  She smiled wistfully to herself and started to walk on. “I wish them the best of luck. Do you think they came from far away? I hope it was not a difficult journey.”

  “They do not seem fatigued,” her aunt replied, making no move to leave the open front of the forge.

  If the participants in the marriage ceremony paid any heed to them, it was not apparent. Elizabeth imagined they had no awareness of anyone other than each other.

  The ceremony did not take long and there was no great fuss when it was concluded. The young pair hurried from the forge and the blacksmith returned to his work. They only noticed Elizabeth and her aunt when they were mere feet from them, and even then only because the two women were blocking their path.

  They looked almost guilty even though their delight was unmistakable.

  Mrs. Gardiner smiled and reached for her purse. “There you go, my dears,” she said, pressing a coin into the young man’s palm. “May you have a long and prosperous life together.”

  “That was kind of you,” Elizabeth observed when the newlyweds had hurried across the street to the inn and they themselves had walked on past the forge.

  “It seemed only right when they had no-one present to celebrate their marriage. No doubt they shall face a trying time when word reaches her parents.”

  Elizabeth was about to agree when there was a thunderous roar from somewhere behind them. They spun around and stared. There was nothing there.

  That changed a moment later when the source of the racket became clear. Ten men on horseback raced around the corner, kicking up great clods of dirt as they went. They gave no appearance of slowing down. Riding five abreast as they were, several walkers had little choice but to leap out of their way or be run over. Elizabeth was relieved the young newlyweds had made it safely to the inn, for they had been so oblivious to their surroundings that they might not have noticed the horses until it was too late.

  A carriage rounded the corner travelling at an only slightly slower pace than the riders. It hurtled past them and left the two ladies staring after it. Ten more riders brought up the rear.

  “Who can be hurrying about like that?” Mrs. Gardiner murmured.

  “I have never seen anything like it. Not even in town.”

  “Nor have I. It is probably a local lord. Do not forget we are in Scotland now. The laws are different here. We must keep our wits about us lest we stumble into danger, though I am told the scenery is without equal.”

  They heard a croaky laugh from behind them. When they turned to see what had happened, they were greeted by a wizened old face. “Don’t look at me like that.”

  “It is you that laughs at us, madam.” There was no reproach in Elizabeth’s tone—she was simply curious. There was no-one else on the street near them, so she was in no doubt that they were the reason for the ancient woman’s mirth.

  “I am laughing ‘cause of those English notions of yours. That was not some wild Scottish laird. That was one of yours!”

  They had no idea what to make of that declaration, so they made polite excuses and walked on to find Mr. Gardiner.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Darcy had had quite enough. After the third time the carriage took a sharp corner much too quickly and almost sent them flying from their seats, he stood and thrust
his head out the window, too angry to have concern for low-hanging branches—which were a common hazard on the narrow roads.

  “I say, man,” he snapped, voice loud in order to be heard over the thunder of hooves and the howling wind. “Be careful. My sister is unwell. This is hardly helping her recovery.”

  The driver glanced over his shoulder, not loosening his grip on the reins in the slightest nor seeming at all concerned about riding with his eyes off the road ahead. “I understood you wanted to get there as fast as possible, sir.”

  Darcy grunted. “Not at the expense of my sister’s health. Or anyone else’s.” Georgiana was seated next to the small window, but just because he had barely been able to see out did not mean he was unaware of their speed. He had heard shouts and screams as they passed through towns. That led him to believe that he and his sister were not the only ones in jeopardy.

  “Very well, sir.” The man held the reins with one hand and used the other to reach for the horn that rested around his neck on a length of string. He lifted it to his lips and blew sharply; four short bursts.

  Darcy returned his head inside. It was not prudent to remain like that for longer than was necessary. The carriage slowed and Darcy assumed the riders must have done likewise.

  “Ah,” his sister murmured. “That is better.”

  He watched her for a while. Her fever had come down, but she was still weak and frail. When she spoke there was little feeling in her voice. It was as if the very act of speaking was tiring—not that she would ever complain about her condition.

  “That is good, my dear. I apologise again for the discomfort.”

  “I understand, Fitzwilliam. You did not wish to leave me alone.”