Darcy and Elizabeth--A Most Unlikely Couple

by Brenda J. Webb

  Nevertheless, William was in his study one afternoon when Mr. Harahan was announced. Noting that the man looked as though he had just returned to Town and had not taken the time to bathe before meeting with him, William tried not to stare. Harahan’s clothes were covered in dust, as was his face.

  William stood to extend a hand. “I did not expect you so soon, Mr. Harahan.”

  Harahan wiped his hand on his pants before shaking hands, “And I did not expect to find you on your feet.”

  They both chuckled as William sat down, and Harahan followed suit, taking the chair directly in front of the desk.

  William was hopeful. “You must have some news, else you would still be in Richmond.”

  “I do. In investigating the fire, I found out that there was a visitor that day—a man who apparently left his horse behind. One of the grooms saw him ride up to the house that later burned, but he did not see what happened afterward, for he was attending to some work. After the fire, the horse was found tied to a tree and was stabled. I examined the animal and discovered it had a brand on its flank.”

  William’s brows rose. “Will that help us to find the one who rode it?”

  “Perhaps. It was a number like the army uses to identify its horses. I intend to trace the number to the outpost that sold the animal—all older horses are sold after a certain time, you see. Perhaps the buyer’s name is recorded. Of course, it could have been sold, traded or even stolen afterward, so we cannot be sure. But it is something to go on. Besides that, there was a receipt in a pouch on the saddle. It is from a warehouse in Cheapside.”

  William scratched his chin. “That could prove helpful.” Then he remembered his other concern. “No news of Hobson then?”

  Harahan’s mien became sombre. “I hate to inform you that while I was there, Mr. Hobson’s body was found by some men hunting in nearby woods. The body was about a half-mile from Eastbrooke Manor, and I was summoned to have a look. The skull was crushed, but there is no doubt it was Hobson, for there were papers in his coat. Whoever killed him was in a great hurry to leave, as they took nothing from him—even his pocket watch was still there. I think that clears him of any suspicions, for if he had set the fire, he could have taken any number of horses and ridden off. I surmise that he may have been chasing the perpetrator who left the horse behind.”

  William silently studied his desk for a moment, and then he looked up. “Has Hobson been buried in a pauper’s grave?”

  “Yes, sir. It was necessary to bury the body immediately.”

  “I will pay for Mr. Hobson’s remains to be reinterred wherever his family may wish. Can you find out if he had any next of kin?”

  “I will see what I can learn.”

  “Thank you.” Then William sighed heavily. “You have helped me tremendously. There are extra rooms in the servants’ quarters or you may choose to rent a room elsewhere, your choice. I will order a hot bath for you if you decide to stay here. In any case, please take a few days to rest before you continue your work. You have only to ask for whatever you may need—supplies or funds.”

  “I had just as soon stay here and I should really like a bath. I imagine I am beginning to smell ripe,” Harahan joked. “I just felt that I should report to you first.”

  “That is appreciated.”

  William rang the bell on his desk, as it was still too painful to stand and use the bell-pull. In an instant, Mr. Barnes came to the door, and Mr. Harahan was shown to his rooms.

  Left to contemplate what it all meant, William wondered if Mr. Coleridge was having as much success in his quest to find out about Andrew’s circumstances. Thinking about his cousin, however, brought Elizabeth back to mind. William had not written to her since she left, not from a wish to be hateful, but because he knew not what to say. He had received letters from Mrs. Reynolds and his aunt and uncle, congratulating him on his marriage and promising to take care of his wife until he could join them at Pemberley. The prospect of joining her, however, gave William pause. He was not sure if he could act as though nothing was amiss when they met again. All eyes would be on them, and he would be obligated to portray a happily married man. He wondered if he was that skilful an actor.

  Frustration mounted and he pushed everything from his mind, save work. Grabbing the pile of letters that lay unanswered on his desk, he began to read the next one in a bid to forget. Between the letter and another glass of brandy, William was able to focus on the problems of irrigating some of Pemberley’s fields—at least for a short while.

  LATER THAT DAY

  Weary from working steadily without a proper break, William had already rung for Barnes by the time Charles Bingley appeared at Darcy House. This meant that the butler was not at the front door to greet him, for he was looking for Mr. Martin in order to dispatch him to their employer’s bedroom to help the master undress, remove the bandages and reapply new ones before dinner. Therefore, Bingley was met at the front door by a long-time footman who recognised Mr. Darcy’s friend and let him in.

  Never one to bother with formalities, instead of waiting for Barnes to return in order to announce him, Charles headed down the hall towards the study where William could normally be found at this hour. When he reached the open door, however, Bingley stuck his head inside instead of entering. Seeing that William had lost weight and looked dishevelled, immediately his suspicions were raised.

  “Darcy?”

  William looked up, his frown taking a minute to transition into a wan smile.

  “Bingley? What are you doing here?”

  “That is a fine how-do-you-do!” Charles said as he walked on into the room. “One would think you did not want me here.”

  “No, not at all. I was just... just surprised to see you, that is all.”

  “We are friends, and shortly we will be brothers. Why would you be surprised that I stopped by?” Reaching the desk, he had a good view of William’s ankle. “My lord, Darcy! If you are an example of what marriage does to a man, I am not sure I want to have a go at it.”

  When William did not smile, Bingley realised he had hit a nerve. Quickly taking a seat, he leaned forward, propping his elbows on the desk. “Is something the matter?” A loud sigh was evidence it would not to be a simple explanation.

  “You can count on my loyalty, friend. I shall not breathe a word of anything you say.”

  Not wishing to add to Bingley’s worries, William decided not to expose his marital problems. After all, Charles had to be loyal to Jane, and she would, of course, be loyal to her sister. So William quickly stated the fact that Elizabeth was not there and changed the subject.

  Charles was somewhat familiar with the women and children Andrew had ruined, so William recounted all the circumstances of the fire at Eastbrooke Manor, including how he came to be injured. There was a long period afterward when neither man spoke while they contemplated the tragedy.

  “I am so sorry to learn of this,” Bingley said at last. “You must know that you did all you could to help the poor souls while they lived.” Then he added, “May I have a look at your ankle? Just to satisfy myself that you are doing as well as you claim?”

  William said wryly, “Are you saying that I would lie?”

  “I know you well enough to know that you will lessen the importance of any injury. You always do.”

  “Fine. I was just about to return to my rooms. If you want to join me, you will see that I have been truthful, for Mr. Martin will work his magic on my ankle. By the way, if you have not made plans, I would love to have you stay and dine with me. Cook has promised a roasted pheasant and a caramel flan this evening.”

  There was a strange loneliness in William’s eyes, so Charles accepted. “That sounds wonderful. I am on my own today. Jane and Mrs. Bennet are with Mrs. Gardiner, examining fabrics and such. The Gardiners leave for Lambton tomorrow, so this is the last day she will be able to direct them to the best warehouses. As my expertise was not needed, I told them I would stop by to see if you and Mrs. Darcy were sti
ll in Town.”

  Suddenly Charles’ expression changed to puzzlement. “Tell me again why your wife is at Pemberley and you are here. I know Mrs. Bennet will be displeased when she finds out, and she will interrogate me thoroughly. I wish to be ready with an answer.”

  William was already limping around the desk when the question made him stop and snap at his friend. “Please listen this time, Charles, for I do not feel well enough to keep repeating it. Elizabeth wished to be at Pemberley when the Gardiners arrive in Lambton to retrieve their children. Since Richard had to be in York, he agreed to escort her there, as he was travelling in that direction. It is as simple as that.”

  William walked past Charles towards the door, the pain in every step apparent. For a moment, Bingley pondered why the mention of his wife would irritate Darcy so. Shrugging his shoulders, he pushed those misgivings from his mind as he walked to catch up with his host.

  Maybe you are making too much of it. After all, surely his irritation is a result of the horror at Eastbrooke Manor and his present pain. That is all.

  BINGLEY’S TOWNHOUSE

  Charles had promised Mrs. Bennet word on her daughter and new son, and he knew that if he waited to bring the report, she would never forgive him. Having no choice, as he approached his own residence he began to dread what the woman would say when she heard the news he carried. Nonetheless, taking a deep breath, he forced himself to knock on the door and smiled at his own butler when it swung open.

  “Mr. Bingley, sir! Do come in!” Snipes greeted, stepping aside and taking Charles’ hat and gloves. “Mrs. Bennet and Miss Bennet are in the drawing room at present.”

  “Thank you, Snipes. I shall join them.” He began in that direction, then stopped and turned. “Would you bring me a large glass of brandy? I think the decanter in the drawing room is empty. And if the ladies do not already have refreshments, have Cook bring a pot of tea and a tray of cakes.”

  “Right away, sir.”

  As he watched the rotund man walk away, he could not suppress a smile, for with his black coat and white shirt, Snipes always reminded him of a penguin. Shaking his head to clear that impression from his mind, Charles hurried towards the room where his angel waited.

  Immediately upon entering the drawing room, Mrs. Bennet exclaimed, “Oh, Mr. Bingley, there you are! You will never guess what we were able to find in the warehouse district today. Never! Never! Never!”

  “Then I suppose it shall be fruitless to venture a supposition,” Charles declared, all the while smiling at Jane, who was seated on a settee with an unopened magazine in her lap. When she returned his smile, his heart leapt.

  “Oh, but you must guess!” Jane’s mother replied. “I shall give you a hint. It is white and very delicate.”

  “Hmmm. Lace?”

  “You are absolutely correct! And the most beautiful lace there ever was. It is from—” She turned to Jane. “Where was it from, dear?”

  “Belgium,” Jane dutifully answered.

  “That is it! Belgium! And it is lovelier than any I have seen in my life. Jane will be the most beautiful bride in all of England.”

  Bingley beamed. “She already is, without any lace.”

  Jane flushed the same shade of rose as her gown and could not reply. Alas, Mrs. Bennet was not as affected. “Now, tell me. Did you call on Darcy House? Are they in London or not?”

  Charles said timidly, “One of them is?”

  “Whatever do you mean? One of them?”

  Bingley told her of Darcy’s injury and repeated exactly what he had said about Elizabeth going on to Pemberley; however, this did not satisfy Mrs. Bennet.

  “Lizzy left Mr. Darcy in London and went to Pemberley by herself? I have never heard of such a thing. A bride leaving her husband in this manner is beyond comprehension.” Standing, she began to pace and rant. “That means there will be no dinner party for us! What could she be thinking to leave him, especially with him so near death?”

  Charles tried to interject, “He is not near death,” but was drowned out by Mrs. Bennet’s steadily increasing volume.

  “She must have made him angry, and he sent her away.” She moved to stand in front of Jane. “You are my witness that I warned Lizzy to keep her opinions to herself.” Then she turned to accost Charles. “Did Mr. Darcy seem very displeased with her?”

  “I assure you, Mrs. Bennet, that that is not the case at all. It is simply Darcy being considerate. That is all.”

  “Humph!” Mrs. Bennet declared. “No newly-married man would permit his bride to go off without him—not if he was satisfied with her. I imagine we shall learn the results of this ere long. He may send Miss I-know-better-than-you back to Longbourn before the ink dries on the marriage license.”

  Just then a maid entered with a glass of brandy, a pot of tea and some cakes. As Mrs. Bennet rushed over to take a bit of cake and stuff it in her mouth, Bingley tried once again to pacify her.

  “I am sorry if I gave you the wrong impression, but I can assure you that nothing is wrong with my friend’s marriage. You shall see as time goes on.”

  By now Mrs. Bennet was busily pouring herself a cup of tea and choosing another cake to satisfy her sweet tooth, so she was not as keen to keep arguing her point.

  “I hope you are right, but I fear that I have the truth of it,” was all she managed to say as she took another bite of a chocolate éclair and dabbed a napkin on her lips.

  At least Mrs. Bennet’s preoccupation with food gave Charles a chance to sit down beside Jane. He glanced back at her mother and, seeing her occupied, leaned over to whisper, “I missed you ever so much today.”

  “I missed you just as truly,” Jane replied, which brought a wide smile to her fiancé’s face. Then she whispered, low enough that her mother could not hear, “Do you really think all is well with Lizzy’s marriage? After all, it does seem strange that she would leave Mr. Darcy while he is injured. I know I could never have left you.”

  At that declaration, Charles reached to take her hand and squeezed it tightly.

  He considered his answer for a brief time before replying.

  “I do. Darcy is not one to make decisions lightly. He loves your sister, of that I am certain, and he has never been a good patient. He becomes irritable and short-tempered when he is not well. Most likely, he thought it best that Richard escort Lizzy on to Pemberley; that way she would not be subject to his complaints and bad humour.”

  Jane watched Charles intently as he spoke, and hearing his explanation, she relaxed. “I shall trust your instincts then. Thank you for calming my nerves.” A giggle escaped and she covered her mouth. “I am beginning to sound like my mother.”

  “Do not say that again, my love. You could never be like your mother.”

  They both snickered, which drew Mrs. Bennet’s attention. “What are you two laughing about? I must have my part in the conversation.”

  “Oh, Mama, we are just happy that we shall be married before long.”

  Mrs. Bennet smiled. “Well, it shall not happen until after an appropriate betrothal. I will not be deprived of a proper wedding with all the trimmings this time!”

  Then she went off on a long discourse of what constituted a proper engagement and wedding in her opinion. Jane and Charles heard not a word of it, as they held hands and stared into each other’s eyes.

  Chapter 22

  Pemberley

  A drawing room

  The magnitude of their niece’s new circumstances rendered Madeline Gardiner almost speechless as she and her husband trailed Mrs. Reynolds through the elegant halls of Pemberley, for even though Mrs. Gardiner had toured the home often as a girl, the enormity of the residence became clear only when one entered the private quarters. In addition, seeing the manor again after so long a time made it apparent that her remembrances were a poor substitute for seeing it first-hand.

  Having reached her childhood home only a scant few hours earlier, Mrs. Gardiner was very weary. Nonetheless, after a footman had appeared
with an invitation for tea at Pemberley, she had immediately accepted. She felt that she had no choice—not with what she knew of the current state of her niece’s marriage. Thus, she and Edward now found themselves following a servant through a maze that would lead them to Elizabeth. Finally, an open door appeared just ahead, and upon reaching it, the housekeeper immediately stepped inside.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner,” they heard her announce.

  Madeline entered the well-appointed room apprehensively, with her husband close on her heels. Just as she noticed that some unfamiliar faces were examining her, Elizabeth sprang from a chair and rushed to greet them.

  “Aunt! Uncle!” Elizabeth cried, hugging their necks enthusiastically, one after the other. “Forgive me for sending an invitation so soon. Knowing that you were to arrive this afternoon, I simply could not wait to see you, though I know you must be exhausted from your trip.”

  “No apologies are necessary, Lizzy,” Madeline Gardiner replied with a restrained smile. “It was only a few more miles, and we are always pleased to see you. We just cannot stay long.”

  “Then perhaps you will come again once you have a chance to visit with your family. We could have a picnic and include my cousins.”

  “We shall see.”

  Elizabeth noticed that her aunt’s gaze was fixed over her shoulder at the Fitzwilliams, who stood when they entered the room. Remembering her manners, she turned to address William’s relations.

  “Uncle Joseph, Aunt Olivia, please allow me to introduce my uncle and aunt, Mr. Edward Gardiner and Mrs. Madeline Gardiner of London.”

  The Fitzwilliams smiled pleasantly at them as Elizabeth continued the introductions, “May I present Captain Joseph Fitzwilliam and his wife, Olivia Fitzwilliam, my husband’s aunt and uncle? They are visiting from Ireland.”

  The couples exchanged pleasantries, and when Elizabeth mentioned that her Aunt Gardiner had been born in Lambton, Olivia Fitzwilliam’s eyes lit up.