by Jann Rowland
Olivia colored at the pointed comment Elizabeth made. “No more comments such as the one I made this morning, then.”
“I would appreciate it.” Elizabeth smiled. “Let us see what happens, Olivia. If Mr. Darcy does admire me, let us allow him to show it in his own way, for he has the power of first choice in courtship. If he does not choose to pursue me, then it is better that way, for I would not wish to force his hand and end with a husband who cannot respect me.”
“Of course, Lizzy. I will temper my comments.”
Elizabeth smiled and looked out the window. There was no harm in her cousin, but she was still young and inexperienced and prone to saying what was on her mind without considering it first. Elizabeth had not been forced to be severe with her, and yet she had learned a valuable lesson. Clearly Olivia was easier to teach than Lydia, who could never be bothered to listen to anything her elder sisters said.
For some time, the carriage drove along a country road, a pretty sight with vibrant woods closing in on either side, and a hint of the peaks in the distance through intermittent breaks in the forest. The countryside was quiet, with calls of birds competing with the noise of the wheels of the carriage in which they rode. It was a tranquil scene, beauty and serenity abounding, as Elizabeth had come to expect from the county she had come to visit. Elizabeth could not be any more content.
The thought provoked a hint of contemplation in Elizabeth’s mind, and she wondered at the changes Derbyshire had wrought upon her. When she had left Hertfordshire, she had been depressed and almost fearful for the course her life would take. Derbyshire had proven to be the balm her troubled soul had needed, though that was as likely as much because of the new surroundings, distance from the familiar scenes of her youth, and lack of any possible improvement, not to mention, from the indifference of her sister. There had been trials here, and she knew there would be trials in the future, but Elizabeth felt more able to bear them, more disposed to her usual happy disposition, rather than the sullen creature she had turned into those last months in her father’s home.
So intent was Elizabeth on her own musings that her cousin had to pull her from them as they approached the earl’s residence.
“There it is,” said Olivia. “It is not quite so . . . impressive as I might have thought.”
Elizabeth looked out the window to see the house in the distance. Teasdale Manor, the unimaginatively named estate which comprised the primary residence of the Earl of Chesterfield, was an old building, its weathered stones standing defiantly against the weight of years which seemed to settle over it like a blanket. It was in some ways more of a castle than a manor house, as two towers rose at each of the front corners, looming over the rest of the house, making it seem insignificant by comparison. But a closer look at the building revealed the towers to be no more than affectations, as there were no battlements, and wide windows broke the façade at all locations, destroying any defensive value the wall might have provided in more dangerous times.
“It is certainly an interesting sort of house,” replied Elizabeth. “Were you referring to something specific?”
“It is not as fine as Pemberley; do you not think?”
Elizabeth could do naught but agree—Pemberley was larger and more imposing, not to mention grander than Teasdale Manor, and more like a manor Elizabeth might expect from a great estate.
“It certainly appears to have some quirks,” replied Elizabeth. “But I do not doubt it is spacious and fine on the inside.”
“Should an earl’s house not be finer?” asked Olivia. “I would have thought we would see a house much larger and grander than Pemberley.”
“The possession of a title does not necessarily make a man wealthy, Olivia. I understand that the Darcys are an old family, and given what I have seen of Pemberley, they are quite wealthy. I know nothing of Lady Emily’s family, but this house does not necessarily mean they are lacking in wealth.”
Olivia did not say anything, but the way she watched the approaching house suggested she was thoughtful. The carriage soon drew to a stop in front of the house, and when they had alighted, a man of middle years approached and requested their names.
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet and Miss Olivia Drummond, to call on Lady Emily.”
“Ah, yes,” said the man, gesturing toward the open door with a bow. “The mistress informed me you would be calling on her. If you would step into the house?”
The inside of Teasdale Manor was, as Elizabeth had suspected, elegant and pleasing. The wide entry hall into which they were led boasted a large staircase which led to the second floor, and was sheathed in expensive tile that fairly gleamed with the polishing it received. But it was also a little quirky, as the outside of the house suggested, as though there were several exits to various parts of the house. She also noticed a door which seemed to go nowhere and a small cubbyhole behind the stairway that appeared dark and dim, not a common sight in a large house.
The butler—for that was who Elizabeth assumed had greeted them—turned them over to a matronly housekeeper, who conveyed them through the house to the sitting-room. Seeing them, Lady Emily rose and extended her greetings.
“Welcome to Teasdale Manor, Miss Bennet, Miss Drummond. I am glad you accepted my invitation to call.”
She invited them to sit and called for some refreshments. Within moments the three ladies were chatting with the aid of tea and cakes to loosen their tongues. Most of the conversation was carried by Elizabeth and Lady Emily, with Olivia adding a few comments from time to time. For the most part, she seemed to be awed at being in the house of a peer, and it induced her to more stillness than was her wont. Elizabeth, noticing this, ensured she carried the burden of the visitors’ conversation, knowing that Olivia would eventually become more accustomed to her surroundings.
“I remember you telling me that you are from Hertfordshire, Miss Bennet,” said Lady Emily after they had spoken for some moments.
“Yes,” replied Elizabeth. “My father owns an estate not far from London.”
“Hertfordshire is a handsome county,” said Lady Emily. “I have a close friend who lives in the county, though toward the northern border with Cambridgeshire.”
“My family’s estate is not far from the village of Luton,” said Elizabeth.
“Ah, I am familiar with Luton, having passed through many times. I believe you mentioned that you have siblings?”
“Yes, four sisters. My elder sister has recently married Mr. Darcy’s close friend, Mr. Bingley.”
“Mr. Bingley? I do not believe I have heard that name in society.”
“His family is not at all prominent,” replied Elizabeth, not really wishing to discuss the man’s connections. “My understanding is that he and Mr. Darcy have been friends since their days in university.”
“Ah, a longstanding friendship, then,” said Lady Emily. She then changed the subject. “Does your father not lament the lack of a son? Is your elder sister his heir?”
“Actually, my father’s heir is a distant cousin,” said Elizabeth, the direction the conversation was taking becoming less comfortable the more they spoke. “His cousin has since married my younger sister, Mary, some weeks before my elder sister was wed.”
The look Lady Emily turned on Elizabeth was unreadable. “That is odd, is it not? That your younger sister should be married before you and your elder sister?”
“Perhaps, when you say it in such a manner,” conceded Elizabeth.
“Did your cousin not direct his attentions to you or your sister first?”
“My eldest sister was already being courted by Mr. Bingley,” said Elizabeth.
She paused for a moment, wishing to speak carefully without revealing embarrassing family secrets. At least Olivia was silent by her side, seeming to understand that Elizabeth would not welcome her assistance.
“In fact,” continued Elizabeth, “my cousin was inclined to direct his attentions to me initially. But I believe we bo
th recognized that we were not well suited, and as he was suited to my younger sister, his attentions were thus redirected.”
The look Lady Emily bestowed on Elizabeth was unreadable, and Elizabeth was not certain if the lady was at all taken in by her obfuscation. When she spoke, her words were no more illuminating.
“It is fortunate, indeed, that you possessed the insight to understand this, though some would suggest you are foolish for refusing what I assume would be an eligible match.”
Having no notion of whether Lady Emily agreed with her stated opinion, Elizabeth nodded. “If the only goal in mind is to be married without regard for how it might be accomplished or whom one married, then I dare say you are correct—some might consider me foolish. But I wish for something more in marriage. A marriage to my father’s cousin would have provided future security, but none of the companionship or even affection that I crave. To accept would have been a punishment.”
Lady Emily regarded her for several moments, digesting what Elizabeth said. “Then you are to be commended. I think there are many in society whose opinions are quite the opposite of yours.”
Elizabeth inclined her head and the subject was dropped. In all, it was an agreeable visit, and Elizabeth was satisfied with it. Lady Emily was, at the very least, pleasant and amiable, and though Elizabeth could not quite make her out at times, she thought there was little true harm in her.
Chapter XII
When Darcy found himself once more mounted on his favorite steed and on his way to Kingsdown, he found his thoughts to be quite different from the last time he had visited. Mr. Drummond was a good man, and Darcy quite esteemed him—it did not matter to Darcy that the man was naught but a farmer, for all he claimed the title of a gentleman. But the last time he had come this way, his thoughts had been colored by a hint of impatience. The fence between their two properties was an important matter to consider, but their border was not extensive and it had been little more than an annoyance.
This time, however, Darcy’s thoughts dwelt on the young woman who had come to stay to Kingsdown whom Darcy had seen for the first time on that previous visit. Miss Elizabeth Bennet was unlike any other woman he had ever known, and as he was often the target of fortune hunters high and low, she was like a hint of a breeze to a miner trapped beneath the earth. His cousin and sister’s words had not informed Darcy of anything he had not already known; the woman would make a good mistress—that much was not in question. The question was how they would suit. He did not know at that moment, but he was coming to the conclusion that he wished to find out.
The neat driveway before the house at Kingsdown was as well-maintained as ever, a flat loop of gravel, regularly smoothed with nary a rock out of place. The front of the house was festooned with ivy growing here and there, clean and properly washed, and if Darcy did not know that the estate was small, he might have thought Drummond had an annual income of four or five thousand. He was a good man, one who did not attempt to use the accident of being Darcy’s nearest neighbor to his advantage, and one who, by all accounts, dealt fairly with all and was industrious in the care of his lands.
One of the young maids who served as the housekeeper came out to greet Darcy, informing him that the master would join him in a moment. As such, Darcy remained mounted, looking out over the estate with interest and a bit of hope. But it was to be dashed—of Miss Bennet there was no sign.
“Darcy!” Drummond rode out from the stables at the side of the house on a dappled grey horse, his smile infectious and welcoming. “Welcome, young man.”
“Mr. Drummond,” replied Darcy, extending his hand.
Their hands met and they shook from horseback. Soon Drummond was leading him away toward his northern boundary and the fence which waited them. Hopefully they would come to an agreement that day and allow the matter to be put to rest.
The two horses thundered across the lands of Kingsdown, like a pair of centaurs of antiquity, Darcy’s stallion a little larger than Drummond’s gelding, the sounds of the hooves hitting the turf echoing back to them from the trees and rocks strewn along the way. As always, when Darcy visited Drummond’s lands, he was impressed by the care which the man obviously took to ensure his enterprise was well-maintained and used appropriately. The fence in question abutted a plot one of Mr. Drummond’s tenants farmed for him, and they waved to the man when they passed, as the tenant was inspecting one of his fields, which had started to sprout.
As Darcy had hoped, the discussion around the fence was completed swiftly, and the costs, split up fairly. Soon they were at leisure to return to the estate. But where the journey to the fence had been direct, with no hesitation, they were easier about their return, walking rather than cantering, and it was then that the conversation turned more interesting. It was fortunate that Drummond brought up the subject of which Darcy was most interested, as he could not conceive of a way of bringing it up without causing himself untold embarrassment.
“I wish to thank you for your kindness to my daughter and my niece,” said the man. “I know they have both been happy to gain the friendship of your sister.”
“The pleasure is all ours,” replied Darcy with all honesty. “Miss Drummond and Miss Bennet have been beneficial for my sister, as she has managed to shed some of her shyness in their company.”
Mr. Drummond chuckled. “That does sound like Lizzy. My own daughter was in a similar state until Lizzy came to stay with us. She appears to possess the ability to instill timid women with courage.”
“I cannot disagree,” said Darcy, thinking about the recent changes in Georgiana. “Your relations are from Hertfordshire, I understand?”
“They are actually my wife’s family,” replied Drummond. “Claire’s brother is Elizabeth’s father. His estate is not far from London, and though it is nothing to Pemberley, it is one of the largest in the neighborhood.”
“And has he any other family?”
“A cousin, from what I understand, who will inherit the property through the means of an entail.”
Drummond went on to explain the situation of the family, including Miss Bennet’s elder sister’s marriage—of which Darcy was already aware—the younger sister’s marriage to the heir of the estate, and the existence of two more younger sisters. He also said something of Mrs. Bennet’s relations, the solicitor in the same neighborhood and the uncle in trade in town. Darcy felt the weight of the man’s scrutiny as he spoke of the tradesman, but as one of Darcy’s closest friends was himself only a generation removed from trade, the idea was not at all distasteful.
“Mrs. Bennet can be a little . . . silly at times,” confessed Drummond. “And her sister is not much better, for all that I have seen them but rarely.”
“Many society wives are,” replied Darcy. “Vapidity and meanness of understanding are not singular traits.”
“I would agree,” replied Drummond. “But Mr. Gardiner is nothing like his sisters. A man of greater understanding of business would be difficult to find. He has built his business up from a small inheritance left to him by his father and has grown it into a profitable venture, indeed. My brother Bennet and I myself also have some little money invested with him. I have given him the authority to keep reinvesting it in my stead. I am hopeful that I will be able to provide some means to my younger children by way of his investments.”
Darcy paused for a moment to digest that. Drummond was a man of prudence, but Darcy had not thought that he had any funds other than that which was required for the operation of his estate. It spoke well to the man, though Darcy did not think it likely that the money would ever amount to much.
“How long is Miss Bennet to stay with you?” asked Darcy at length.
“We have not determined an exact time for her return to Hertfordshire,” replied Drummond. “I hope to have her here for some months. I requested her presence, hoping she would be able to provide some guidance for my Olivia. Thus far my expectations have been more than met. The difficulty is tha
t she is her father’s favorite, and he will likely wish for her return long before I am ready to surrender her company.”
“I can see that,” replied Darcy quietly. “I am not sure if Miss Bennet has mentioned it, but my friend Bingley, who is married to her sister, will likely be visiting Pemberley this summer.” At Drummond’s nod, Darcy continued: “Is the elder sister as lively as Miss Bennet?”
“Though I have not met her since she was a child, I remember that their characters are quite different. Jane is serene, calm, quite beautiful, and she has always tried to see the best in others. She has none of Lizzy’s fire or vivacity.”
Drummond paused for a moment, and then he spoke, albeit slowly. “Perhaps I am speaking out of turn, for I have no true knowledge of the situation, but you should likely know if you are to host Mrs. Bingley. I have heard something of trouble between the sisters, though they were the closest of friends before Jane’s marriage.”
“Trouble?” asked Darcy.
“Again, I do not know the particulars, but it seems Jane has altered since her marriage. By all accounts, she no longer sees Lizzy as her closest friend. Perhaps it is more correct to say that she no longer wishes for the closeness which existed between them before.”
“It would not be the first time marriage has changed a woman, particularly when she married so advantageously.”
“You would be correct. But Jane was always of the sweetest disposition. I am not aware of any specific occasions of tension between them, but I am almost positive that part of the impetus for Lizzy’s acceptance of my invitation was due to problems between the sisters. It may be nothing, but if she is to be close by, you should be aware of it.”
“Thank you, Drummond.”
Nothing further was said, and Darcy was lost in his thoughts as they rode back toward the house. Though he was aware it was irrational, he found that he almost disapproved of Mrs. Bingley for nothing more than Drummond’s brief speculations. As he had noted, a woman becoming unreasonably haughty after her marriage was not unusual, though Drummond’s characterization of the woman made Darcy think it unlikely that a woman of her character would submit to such feelings. And for a moment, he was angry at her for causing her sister such pain—how a beloved sister could treat a woman of Miss Bennet’s caliber so was beyond his understanding.
