Elizabeth bristled at the arrogant self-satisfaction in Wickham’s address, and his words were just menacing enough to start a little chill running up her spine. She was not sorry, therefore, to have the interview abruptly ended by the approach of the others. Wickham remounted his horse, gave her one last penetrating look, and rode off in the direction of the stables without another word.
“My dear Eliza,” said Miss Bingley upon reaching her side, “are you quite safe? You look a little shaken. What did that horrid man want with you?”
“I hardly know. He was rather unpleasant, but no harm has been done.”
“Such impudence, putting himself forward like that! Wait until Darcy hears about this.”
“No, Caroline! I beg you would not mention it to Mr. Darcy. The incident is of no importance, and it would only upset him needlessly. I shall not say anything about it, and I hope no one else will either.”
Caroline acquiesced and the Hursts gave no difficulty when asked to be likewise discreet. Although Elizabeth knew she should be relieved by these assurances, her thoughts were too troubled to permit peace. She found the deterioration in Wickham’s demeanor disturbing. In the two years since she had seen him last, he had changed, and not for the better. Some remnants remained of the easy manners and charm that once made him so attractive, but an undeniable coarseness had since entered in. Elizabeth could not help being now even more apprehensive for her sister’s future happiness than before.
The whole encounter had been unsettling – Wickham’s taunts, his reminder of their past friendship, the leering way he had looked at her. Still, Elizabeth’s greatest perturbation proceeded from Wickham’s allusions to a clandestine business association with her husband. Could there be any truth to what he said, she wondered? Did she really wish to know the answer? That was another question entirely. Her natural curiosity mingled with a heavy dread at the very prospect of what she might discover.
However, it was not only the questionable conduct of others that troubled Elizabeth. Her conscience told her that her own behavior was suspect, when she reflected on her hasty decision to keep the encounter with Wickham to herself. Although she was sincere in her desire to spare her husband distress, the ease with which she chose to withhold the information alarmed her. She had acted on impulse, and her first instinct had been to conceal the truth from him! The very idea shocked her.
“Oh, my dear Darcy, how have we come to this sad state of affairs?” Elizabeth silently lamented. “We used to have no secrets from each other. Now it seems we have both become adept at disguise.”
Chapter 30
Moving Day
Elizabeth’s preoccupation with the disturbing episode at Heatheridge made her a poor traveling companion on the journey back to Pemberley. In her agitated state, she had no patience for prattle. Caroline and Louisa were soon left to their own society as Mr. Hurst lapsed into deep slumber shortly after they got underway, and Elizabeth delivered a convincing performance of the same so she could be alone with her thoughts.
Upon more thorough rumination, Elizabeth realized it was pure folly to suppose she could keep her husband ignorant of her encounter with Mr. Wickham. Considering his serious reservations about her going to Heatheridge in the first place, Darcy was sure to ask if she had seen the man. She would have to own that she had. Withholding information for good reason was one thing, but a barefaced lie was quite another. Besides, it was sure to come out on Friday. Mr. Bingley could easily mention it to his friend or, more likely, Wickham himself might refer to it for purposes of his own.
No, she must tell him and make as little of the incident as possible. She hoped to avoid revealing much about the content and tenor of the conversation, however. With Wickham’s warning still ringing in her ears, Elizabeth felt inclined to heed his advice, despite the source. She could not yet countenance the idea of confronting Darcy with her questions. And telling him of their brother-in-law’s impertinence would only serve to jeopardize the project of resettling the troublesome couple.
Darcy met the carriage when it arrived at dusk and ushered the party into the house. “Good to have you back, my dear,” he said to Elizabeth as they walked up the front steps together. “I trust you encountered no significant difficulties today?” he pointedly inquired.
Elizabeth understood his question to encompass both the issue of Wickham and the letter for Mr. Bingley, as well as the travel itself. “Everything went well,” she assured him. “We had a very agreeable stay at Heatheridge and no serious complications.” Further intelligence would have to wait.
Over supper, Mr. Darcy received a detailed account of the day from the visiting sisters. He was informed of the health and good appearance of all the Bingleys, regaled by a thorough description of the excellent fare at their table, and given benefit of all particulars relating to the condition of the roads along the route. Caroline reported only one thing amiss at Heatheridge, which was an unpleasant degree of familiarity on the part of the servants. Louisa reluctantly allowed she had noticed the same, and had gone so far as to give Jane a kindly hint that she would do well to exercise a firmer hand in her management of the help.
No one in the group that evening made any mention of Mr. Wickham, though he was never far from Elizabeth’s mind … or from her husband’s either, judging from his solemn mood. As she expected, the first question from his lips, once they were finally alone, was whether or not she had encountered the man.
Elizabeth had her answer ready. “Yes, I did see him. It was unavoidable; he appeared just as we were taking leave. The meeting was brief, and I was never in any danger. So you need not be concerned, Darcy.”
“Did he speak to you?”
“Just a few words.”
“What did he say?”
“Nothing of consequence. He made believe we were still friends, and I very firmly disabused him of the idea. That is all it amounted to.”
“It sounds as if you managed the situation well.”
“I should hope that I did.”
“Are you certain he did nothing to upset you? You do not seem quite yourself tonight.”
“I am just a little tired; that is all.”
For whatever reason, Mr. Darcy did not press her further. Elizabeth was surprised, but relieved, to be spared giving detailed explanations – or the necessity of lying to avoid them. This failed to cheer her, however, for she could now, for the first time, sense the faint shadow of a wall dividing her from her beloved husband. There was no longer any question in her mind that facts and feelings were being deliberately withheld on both sides. A veil of doubt had drawn between them. Darcy was aware of it too; she could see it in his eyes.
~*~
Friday dawned through a dark blanket of clouds, which shrouded the morning in a general air of gloom. The rain began about nine o’clock and continued into the afternoon unabated, painting the entire landscape a dozen dreary shades of gray. Elizabeth gazed out the drawing room window at the dismal scene, and hoped that the inhospitable weather was in no way indicative of how the day’s events would play out.
Mr. Darcy had departed for the cottage hours earlier, taking Mr. Adams and Sarah Thompson with him in a carriage. Sarah, a sturdy girl of sixteen and the daughter of one of Pemberley’s best maids, had been engaged to wait on the Wickhams as their maid-of-all-work. The Darcys provided her services along with the cottage itself in the hope that it would make the situation more agreeable to the new tenants, and success, therefore, more likely.
As her eyes traced the rivulets racing down the window glass, Elizabeth’s thoughts ran far afield – to the cottage. About now, she surmised, the party would be arriving from Heatheridge. She wondered how her sister and brother-in-law had taken the news that they were being removed from their fine accommodations with the Bingleys to more modest lodgings of their own. Reasonable people would be thankful for the kindness so long extended to them by their relations, and grateful to have a permanent home made available to them at no cost. However, as
Elizabeth knew all too well, the laws of reasonable behavior did not always apply to the Wickhams.
She wished she could have been of use in making the arrangements or easing the transition somehow. But Darcy had insisted on doing everything himself and keeping her well clear of it. So she was consigned to wait and worry at home, with no hope of learning how things were progressing until her husband returned. Elizabeth was roused from these contemplations by Miss Bingley’s voice, calling her back to the room and reminding her that she was not alone.
“So sorry, Caroline, my mind was miles away. What were you saying?”
“I just wondered what had captured your attention so completely. I declare, Eliza, you have been standing on that very spot and staring out of doors for fully twenty minutes.”
“It is nothing. I was watching for Mr. Darcy’s return, I suppose.”
“Yes, his absence is a sad loss to us all. I fail to understand why he could not have postponed this so-called ‘important business,’ whatever it is, for another day,” Caroline said peevishly. “After all, he is the master of Pemberley and not the other way round.”
Elizabeth took a deep breath before answering. “You must remember that this estate is an enormous responsibility, Miss Bingley. It often happens that Mr. Darcy must set aside his own convenience in order to keep things operating smoothly. Today’s errand is an example. I know for a fact that he would much rather have stayed at home had he consulted only his own preferences.”
“How tiresome!” Caroline exclaimed. “What is the point of ownership if it does not afford one the privilege of doing as one likes?”
“It is fortunate for you, then, that you do not suffer the burden of that kind of obligation,” Elizabeth concluded.
The company languished for lack of occupation, the hours progressing at a snail’s rate. Their periodic forays into conversation proved too feeble to be long sustained; each soon faltered and died away, once again plunging the room headlong into a vast sea of silence. Mr. Hurst finally resorted to the solitary pursuit of playing Patience. His wife took up a book, which busied her hands and held her eyes if not her interest. The other two ladies divided their time between worrying the furniture with fidgety sits and wearing the carpet with restless pacing.
When at last Mr. Darcy did return, he stopped only briefly in the drawing room to apologize for his unavoidable absence before excusing himself to change for dinner. Elizabeth could discover nothing in his demeanor or voice to satisfy her curiosity about his errand, so she made her own excuses and accompanied him upstairs.
“Well? I can bear it no longer; tell me what happened,” Elizabeth urged him as soon as they were beyond the hearing of the others.
“There is not that much to tell, Elizabeth,” Darcy said wearily. “It is accomplished; that is all that can be known for certain. Only time will answer the rest.”
“So they were successfully moved. That is some relief. But, did things go smoothly? How do they like the cottage? What was their mood? Since I could not be there myself, you must tell me.”
“Very well, I will do my best. Your sister was in animated spirits, and I had no complaints from her. She scurried about investigating the whole house and making plans … for how she wanted the furniture arranged, what sort of curtains she would hang, and so forth. I believe she decided to be content as soon as she learnt she was to have a maid. Wickham was a different matter.”
Elizabeth frowned. “Did he make trouble for you?”
“Nothing overt. My concern is not so much for anything specific he did or said; it is rather for his stormy outlook in general. I know the man. Wickham is not one to suffer his resentments quietly. I suppose there never was any real reason to expect his cooperation, but still …” He trailed off, shaking his head.
“Do not give up, Darcy. Even Wickham is capable of behaving sensibly when it benefits his own interests. Perhaps once he has had time to adjust to the arrangement, he will choose to give it a fair try.”
“God grant it, but I doubt it, Lizzy.”
All was tranquil for the next two days. On Monday, according to the master’s instructions, Mr. Adams rode by the cottage to assess the Wickhams’ progress and render any needed assistance. He found everything in good order. The new residents, who received him courteously, were well settled, and Mr. Wickham had already familiarized himself with the farm and its operation. Mr. Adams had answered a few reasonable questions and then continued on his way, quite comfortable with everything he had observed.
On the strength of this account, the Darcys adopted a more optimistic view than they had reason to envision before.
Chapter 31
An Altercation
The next day, a message from Heatheridge arrived saying that the guest quarters were now available, and inviting the Hursts and Miss Bingley to come just as soon as they could be spared from Pemberley. Recognizing the Bingleys’ higher claim, the Darcys kindly gave their visitors leave to go immediately if they so wished. Yet their guests would not consider departing so abruptly. Thursday morning, then, was settled on as the time for their removal.
On Wednesday – their last full day at Pemberley – the sisters begged Mr. Darcy to treat them to another outing on horseback. He consented, considering that riding would be one of the more pleasant ways to entertain them. As on the previous occasion, Mr. Hurst stayed behind and Elizabeth chose the alternative of a walk for her outdoor exercise.
After the riders set off, she strolled down the path by the stream where she had passed so often before, on foot and in the saddle. Never did she tire of this route, which offered so much delight to the senses. It seemed ever-changing and new with each season. As she rambled along, midday sun filtered through the dancing leaves overhead and glittered across the face of the water. The freshening breeze at her back and the burbling sound of the little waterfall ahead carried her forward. With every step, she drank in the musky scent of the wood and of the rich earth beneath her feet.
Elizabeth wandered on without a care. Only when she had ventured quite far down the trail did her mounting fatigue prompt the idea of turning back. Yet by then she was too tired to attempt it. A repose of ten or fifteen minutes would soon set her right, she thought. So, choosing a particularly inviting patch of grass, she sat down and leaned back against a tree stump to rest before starting the return trip. With the warmth of the sun to blanket her and its brightness to shut her eyes, Elizabeth relaxed and let her mind drift.
How long she remained in that attitude and whether or not she slept, Elizabeth could never be certain. When she at last came to herself, it was with a start and a sense of apprehension. She had the strong impression that someone else was present, watching her. At the sound of rustling in the underbrush, Elizabeth darted her eyes first in that direction and then in every other without result. Yet the threat seemed no less real.
She got to her feet as rapidly as her awkward figure allowed, and started for home at a hurried pace. The faster Elizabeth walked, the more the fear rose up in her throat, urging her on until she was nearly at a run. All the while, she struggled to master her unruly emotions, to push the panic down.
When she was still quite a way from the house, Elizabeth rounded a bend in the path and found herself confronted by a tall man silhouetted against the bright sky. A feeble scream escaped her lips. Nearly in that same moment, she recognized him. “Mr. Adams!” she cried, indescribable relief flooding through her.
“Why, Mrs. Darcy, what is the matter? Are you ill?” he inquired. “Here, take my arm. You’re trembling like a leaf.”
Elizabeth obeyed, gratefully. “Thank you, Mr. Adams,” she gasped out. “I am so glad to see you … I am not ill, only frightened. I cannot be sure but … I believe there was someone following me.”
“An intruder? Did you see who it was?”
“No, no. I can tell you nothing at all useful. I did not see, but rather sensed, that someone was there. Then I heard movement in the brush and I came away as fast as I could.
”
“Where did this happen, Mrs. Darcy?”
“Down at the little clearing by the waterfall.”
“I had better have a look then… but I can’t leave you like this. Let me see you back to the house first,” he proposed.
Elizabeth agreed, and they continued on at a less frantic pace. The riding party was just returning as they approached the stables. At the sight of his wife, disheveled and needing assistance, Mr. Darcy dismounted and ran to her.
“Good God! What has happened? Are you ill, Elizabeth?” he asked, taking her other arm at once.
She offered him a weak smile. “No, do not be alarmed. I am well. I am well.”
“Madam believes she was followed on the path, near the waterfall,” Mr. Adams volunteered.
Darcy took command of the situation. “I will investigate this myself, Mr. Adams. Be good enough to escort the ladies to the house, and then join me. Elizabeth, you are quite certain that you are unharmed?” She nodded. “Very well then. I shall be off at once,” he said returning to the saddle. After one more glance back at his wife, Darcy urged his mount down the path from which she had just fled.
~*~
Upon regaining the house, Elizabeth went directly to her bedchamber to recover from her fright and await Darcy’s return. The longer he stayed away, however, the more foolish she felt over the stir she had created. The efforts of Mr. Adams and her husband could very well be for naught. After all, it was at least possible the whole episode had been a product of her imagination, the result of straying into that strange twilight between consciousness and sleep.
The Darcys of Pemberley Page 21
