by Ola Wegner
"We will talk later, Cousin," Darcy said. "I truly need to go to her."
They walked together outside the inn where they saw Elizabeth conversing with a young boy. The boy soon ran away, and she stood alone, hugging herself and rocking back and forth.
She turned to them when she must have sensed them approaching. She looked straight at Darcy, ignoring Colonel Fitzwilliam. "I missed my carriage," she said, her tone accusing. "You asked to have the driver told that I was not continuing my journey with them."
Darcy shrugged, stating calmly, "I assumed you would continue with me."
"You had no right," she said, her voice trembling. "I have not given you my consent to do that."
Darcy's expression darkened, his jaw line tightening, but he spoke calmly, "I only want what is best for you. We have already discussed it."
She opened her lips to say something, but then closed them, looking to the side, away from the two men.
Colonel Fitzwilliam looked between his cousin and Elizabeth, before taking a step forward, speaking gently, "Miss Bennet, please accept my sincerest condolences. I cannot imagine how you feel now. I did not have the pleasure of knowing your father, but I am sure that he was a man of rare character and value to be blessed with a daughter like yourself."
Elizabeth looked up at him warmly, "I thank you, sir."
"I understand that you will continue your journey with us," he offered lightly.
"I have no other choice," she agreed quietly. "I want to reach my uncle's house in Cheapside as soon as possible, so my sister and I may return home to Longbourn as soon as may be," she explained.
As she was speaking, she kept her eyes on Colonel Fitzwilliam, as if Darcy was not there with them.
The older man nodded with understanding. "I am afraid that we need to wait some time before Darcy's carriage will again ready to travel. The horses need their rest. Let us return inside, Miss Bennet."
He offered his arm, which Elizabeth accepted without hesitation. They walked past Darcy, and she did not give him a second look.
Once back in the private sitting room at the inn, Elizabeth excused herself so that she might refresh herself. Darcy ordered a late lunch for all of them. He was hungry, and he knew that his cousin would not refuse a meal, but his first thought was for Elizabeth. He doubted that she had eaten much today, if anything. He did not want her to get sick.
"She is furious with you," Colonel Fitzwilliam stated, using the first opportunity when they were alone. "What did you do to her?"
"It is not your business," Darcy responded coldly.
"She does not act as a happy bride to be," the other man pointed out.
"What do you expect? She has just learned that her father, with whom she was very close, died."
"Do not talk to me as if I am an idiot, Darcy," Colonel Fitzwilliam challenged. "You are not telling me everything."
They stared at each other for a moment.
"She refused me," Darcy divulged at last, seeing that his cousin had no intention of stopping the interrogation.
He was met with an unbelievable look. "She what?"
"She refused my offer of marriage," Darcy repeated quietly. Hastily, he added. "She bears certain misapprehensions about me, but once I explain everything to her, she will come to senses, and we will be happy together."
"It must be serious indeed if she refused you. In her situation, you are the best that could ever happen to her."
"I unknowingly did harm to a person close to her, and she holds it against me. However, she knows how much I love her, and once I repair what I did, she will forgive me and all will be well between us."
"I hope so, Cousin," Colonel Fitzwilliam spoke with sincerity. "I like and admire her. She has spirit, and is not boring like so many other ladies. She is a good choice for you. I would consider her myself if my situation was different."
Darcy gave him a dark glare. "You cannot imagine that I wish to hear that."
"Calm down, as a second son I do not have your freedom to choose where I wish, and you know it very well. Moreover, I would never pursue her knowing your intentions. You deserve your happiness, Darcy. You have not had much of it in your life."
Their conversation came to an end when Elizabeth walked in. She looked refreshed, her face freshly scrubbed, with a healthy pink glow to her cheeks. She seemed calmed and more in control of her emotions. She politely refused any food, and only stared out of the window as the two men partook of their meals. Darcy tried to persuade her to eat, but stopped when his cousin gave him a meaningful look, combined with a light kick under the table.
She stayed like that until it was announced that the carriage was waiting and they could go.
Chapter Three
She did not look at him for the entire trip to London. Even though he understood that she was tired, grieving, and displeased with him, he could not help from feeling slightly hurt and rejected with her behaviour. At least she did not cast a second glance at Colonel Fitzwilliam as well. She scooted into the corner by the window, so quiet and motionless that he could swear she was not even breathing.
The carriage box, though spacious, was rather crowded in his opinion. Elizabeth and the maid were seated on one side while his cousin and he were on the other. Darcy purposively took a place opposite Elizabeth so he could stare at her at his pleasure. It was a habit he had started at the very beginning of her acquaintance and he would not break it now.
How he wished to be alone with her now, to be able to draw her in his arms and offer her the comfort of his embrace. She had enjoyed being held by him earlier, in the privacy of the sitting room at the inn. She had calmed considerably, cuddling close to him. His heart had soared at having her in his arms despite the sadness of seeing her in such distress.
Mr. Bennet's unexpected demise had complicated matters considerably. He had had no chance to properly explain his involvement in separating her sister and Bingley. They needed an opportunity to talk, so she could see him in a different light and trust him.
He planned to ask for a private talk with her uncle; Gardiner was his name if he remembered correctly. The man was Mrs. Bennet's brother, and Darcy sincerely hoped that, contrary to his sister, he was not a blathering witless fool as his sister was. He searched his memory for the times when Elizabeth had talked about her uncle, and he realized that she had always done it with a smile on her face—a warmth in her voice and obvious admiration. Moreover, she and Jane seemed to be good friends with the man's wife, Mrs. Gardiner. That was a good sign, as Elizabeth had excellent taste in people, apart from Wickham perhaps, but he was an entirely different matter. That cad could charm the devil himself if he put his mind to it. Darcy all too clearly remembered how his Elizabeth had seemed to enjoy Wickham’s company this past autumn.
Taking everything into consideration, the chances were good that Mr. Gardiner was a reasonable man and would support Darcy's cause. He had a feeling that Elizabeth highly respected her uncle's opinion.
Cheapside was not a part of London which he favoured, and he had no acquaintances there. He was pleasantly surprised when they stopped in front of a handsome building. He had expected something much worse. On the other side of the street, there were impressive looking warehouses and a large shop which as he believed were owned by Mr. Gardiner. The house itself was unpretentious, not small by any means, two stories high, built in red brick with large, tall white windows.
A woman in her early thirties flew through the front door as he helped Elizabeth down from the carriage steps. It had to be her aunt, because Elizabeth fell into her arms and they embraced. Darcy gave a discreet appraisal to the lady as she and Elizabeth hugged each other, crying and speaking interchangeably in hushed voices.
He had to admit that Mrs. Gardiner was a pleasant looking, objectively attractive woman if someone fancied round, freckled strawberry blondes. There was nothing crass or vulgar in her outer appearance. She was dressed in light colours, and though he knew little of women's fashion, he could see
that her dress was finer than Elizabeth's.
At last, Mrs. Gardiner acknowledged him and his cousin, enquiring after Elizabeth’s companions.
"These are Mr. Darcy and his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam. They were visiting their aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh of Rosings Park, during my stay at Hunsford. They were kind enough to offer me a place in their carriage on their way to London," Elizabeth explained quietly, her eyes downcast, not looking at any of them.
Mrs. Gardiner frowned, gazing intently at her niece. Darcy could see from her expression that she was not sure what to think about Elizabeth travelling alone with two strange men that she probably had never heard of before.
Darcy stepped forward. "Madam, Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, Derbyshire, at your service," he bowed, introducing himself. Elizabeth had mentioned their names, still he had to be sure that her aunt knew who he was exactly, and that his intentions were honourable.
He had noticed that Mrs. Gardiner's eyes widened in recognition as he said his name. She must have heard about him before; he was almost certain. Had Elizabeth talked with her about him, or mentioned him in her letters to her aunt? That was possible.
"I assure you that we travelled with a maid so that Miss Bennet would not feel uncomfortable in our company," he continued. "Since she received the tragic news yesterday, she has been adamant to return home as soon as possible. I could not allow her to travel alone by post, especially when she is so distressed."
He noticed that Elizabeth pressed her lips tightly at his words, her body stiffening. Mrs. Gardiner was regarding them with astonished eyes, glancing back and forth between her niece and Darcy.
Soon, however, the woman composed herself, and politely invited them in. Elizabeth interjected instantly, suggesting that the gentlemen had important matters to attend.
Before Mrs. Gardiner could answer anything to that, Darcy spoke.
"We are happy to accept your invitation, Mrs. Gardiner. I was also hoping for the opportunity to speak in private with your husband, madam."
Mrs. Gardiner stared at Elizabeth for a moment before nodding at Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam. "Please, gentlemen, let us go inside the house. You must be tired after the journey." She looked over at the driver, the footman and the maid who now stood by the carriage behind them. "Your servants are invited into the kitchen, and I am sure that your horses need their rest too. Our stable is behind the house."
Darcy thanked Mrs. Gardiner, checking quickly with his men whether they had heard and understood her instructions. He decided that he already liked her. She had a pleasant, melodic voice, spoke sensibly, and held herself with grace and refinement. She was nothing like Elizabeth's other aunt, that horrible Philips woman.
They were led into a rather spacious drawing room. Darcy was pleased, impressed even, to see calm, tasteful, almost elegant interiors. There were open books and newspapers lying on the tables, and a new-looking pianoforte stood by the window. It was very similar to the one he had bought Georgiana for Christmas.
Elizabeth excused herself from their company without giving much explanation. Mrs. Gardiner seemed confused with her niece's behaviour, and obviously worried for her. Darcy could see that this situation was uncomfortable for Elizabeth; it was for him as well, but he had no other choice. He needed to talk to her uncle and the sooner the better, so he could explain his intentions to him. His cousin gave him a few questioning looks, but otherwise was very helpful, using his easy manner to engage Mrs. Gardiner into conversation.
They did not have to wait long before Mr. Gardiner came into the house. He did not look pleased as he heard from his wife that Elizabeth had arrived in the company of not one, but two, strange gentlemen. He was polite, but his voice was cold as he addressed Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam. Darcy was not in the least offended by the less than welcoming reception from Mr. Gardiner. He would be hostile too, even more so, if he was in Mr. Gardiner's shoes.
He was about to ask Mr. Gardiner for a private conversation, when the door opened and several children ran inside followed by Jane Bennet.
The smallest of the children was still a baby, and it was wrapped around Miss Jane like a little monkey, clearly sleepy and tired.
Two older ones, which could be twins, but not identical, clung fiercely to their father's legs. From their chatter Darcy understood that they had not seen their Papa for the entire day and they missed him. The oldest girl, looking to be around eight years of age, stood politely on the side, glancing curiously at the guests from time to time.
The children's cheeks were rosy, and they still had their jackets and hats on, so Darcy assumed that they had just returned from their walk.
Mrs. Gardiner took the baby from Jane's arms and gathered the rest of the children, taking them away despite their protests to being separated again from their father.
As they were left alone, only in the company of Mr. Gardiner and Jane, the latter stepped forward. "Mr. Darcy, I did not expect to see you here," she said in her usual calm, controlled voice, but he could see the surprise written in her eyes.
"Miss Bennet," Darcy bowed deeply, having every intention to be polite and engaging in his relations with Jane from this moment on, even if he had not done so in the past. It was clear to him now how much Miss Bennet's happiness and opinions meant to his Elizabeth. Having Jane on his side would undoubtedly improve his own relations with her sister. "We have escorted Miss Elizabeth from Kent after we heard about your tragedy," he explained. "Please accept our condolences."
Jane's blue eyes filled with tears as he referred to Mr. Bennet's demise, but she composed herself quickly. "I thank you, Mr. Darcy. I am sure that my sister is most grateful that you were so thoughtful to ensure so she could reach us so quickly."
Darcy knew very well, whether he wanted it admit or not, that Elizabeth was currently less than pleased with him, but he appreciated Jane's kind words. He had once thought Jane Bennet to be cold and emotionless, but he could see now how wrong he had been. She did not seem to hold a grudge against him, though she could have a legitimate reason not to like him, if Elizabeth had shared her suspicions about his involvement in the matter of Bingley. He felt suddenly ashamed of himself for what he had done. Elizabeth was right, Miss Bennet had done no wrong to him, to anyone, and still he had purposely brought her pain and suffering.
He was awakened from his musings by the not so gentle nudge from his left side where his cousin stood. He glanced at Colonel Fitzwilliam in annoyance, and noticed his raised eyebrows and eyes pointing meaningfully at Jane.
Darcy barely stopped from rolling his eyes, considering it would not be polite in this company, and motioned to his cousin. "Miss Bennet, let me introduce you to my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam."
The colonel stepped forward and bowed deeply, murmuring his condolences, combined with ensuring how happy he was to finally meet her, despite the sad circumstances.
Jane was about to answer, her mouth forming words, but Mr. Gardiner cut in, asking her directly, "Jane dear, do you know this gentleman?" He glanced at Darcy.
"Yes, uncle. Mr. Darcy was a guest at the house of our neighbour this past autumn. We met him at several dinners and assemblies," she explained.
"Which neighbour?" Mr. Gardiner asked sharply. "Do I know him?"
Instant sadness appeared on Jane's face, her delicate eyebrows frowning. "It was Mr. Bingley, Uncle, but I do not believe that you met him," Jane acknowledged quietly, her eyes lowered.
Mr. Gardiner looked pointedly from Jane to Darcy. "I do not believe that being Mr. Bingley's friend is the best recommendation for any man."
Darcy swallowed and even felt his face blushing. The older man was not beating around the bush. He must know how Bingley had treated Jane, that he had hurt her, paying her attention, only to abandon her without a word of goodbye. He did not want his other niece to suffer from the same fate. Darcy was determined to prove, however, how wrong he was.
"Mr. Gardiner," he turned to the man directly, "I wish to talk with you in private
. I assure you that the matter is of utmost importance. It concerns Miss Elizabeth, and I believe the future and well being of the entire Bennet family."
Mr. Gardiner said nothing, but only walked across the room, opened the door, and called for Madeline. Darcy assumed that Madeline was his wife, and he frowned slightly at the impropriety of calling Mrs. Gardiner by her first name. It would be understandable when in private, of course, and he had every intention of using Elizabeth's given name when they were alone. Nevertheless, when in company, she would always be Mrs. Darcy, and he certainly would be proud to call her that.
Mrs. Gardiner came quickly, still carrying the baby in her arms. The baby's face was red and tear stricken, and though it was not crying loudly, steady whimpers of distress were coming from it.
They talked quietly for a moment, and though it was not his intention to listen to them, he understood that the baby was fussy, or sick, and Mrs. Gardiner did not want to leave it alone. Darcy wondered where the baby's nanny was. Surely Mrs. Gardiner did not take care of her children by herself.
Mr. Gardiner took the wiggling baby from his wife, and asked her loudly enough for everyone to hear, to keep the company of Jane and Colonel Fitzwilliam in the drawing room.
Still with baby in his arm, Mr. Gardiner stepped to Darcy. "Let us go," he said curtly.
Darcy followed him, being quite certain that on their way to the study, or the library, or whatever room he was being led to, Mr. Gardiner would dispose of the child, giving it to its nanny or the nursemaid.
Nothing like that happened. Mr. Gardiner pushed the door to a small library, filled with books up to the ceiling, and walked in. Darcy closed the door after them, and took the seat in the chair pointed to him.
Mr. Gardiner sat down, settling the baby on his lap. Darcy noticed only then that the child had a piece of bread in its hand, which it put into his mouth, chewing it together with his chubby little fingers.
"He is teething," Mr. Gardiner offered as the explanation of his son's actions, trying to pull the little hand out of the baby's mouth. "Not the most pleasant experience for him, I believe."
