Darcy and Elizabeth--A Most Unlikely Couple

by Brenda J. Webb

  Just at that moment, Mrs. Long came over to them. “Oh, Mr. Bingley, I was thinking that we have not seen your sisters in Meryton in such a long while.”

  “Yes, they have been at the Hurst family estate. They are having so fine a time that they do not plan to return to Netherfield until after the first of the year, or perhaps later. In any case, Miss Bingley is keen to return to London, not Meryton.”

  “Why, that is unfortunate. I was looking forward to attending another ball at your home. But with no hostess to assist you, I am sure that a ball would be out of the question.”

  “Yes, it would,” Bingley said without further debate, making his intention of not bringing Caroline back to Meryton to act as his hostess clear.

  Thwarted in her attempt to promote another ball, Mrs. Long took her leave. As she did, Jane turned to him. “I thought that Caroline has written twice asking to return to Netherfield.”

  “She has. But I do not relish seeing her, especially after she defied my instructions in regard to Darcy, so my answer was no. She is unstable where he is concerned, and, frankly, she cannot be trusted in regards to our plans to marry, either.”

  “Surely you do not think she would interfere now that Mr. Darcy is married to Lizzie and we are engaged?”

  “I cannot promise that she would not try. In fact, I told Louisa that if Caroline does not reside with them in the future, I shall find a place for her with one of our maiden aunts. I do not intend to have her live with us once we marry.”

  Jane tried not to smile too widely for, to tell the truth, she was relieved to hear Charles say as much. Just at that point, her mother came toward them talking animatedly and pulling an older woman along with her. Pasting on a smile, Jane steeled herself for yet another conversation.

  LAMBTON

  The local inn

  The small inn at Lambton also served as a post office, so it was often quite crowded. No more so than today, when heavy rains thwarted many of the patrons’ plans to travel further north. Reports of the banks of the river overflowing on the county line had caused several coaches to stop for the night, and their inhabitants now occupied all the rooms upstairs, as well as the common area. Wishing to avoid being seen by his cousin or any who worked for William, Andrew Darcy was pleased by the throng, for it was his wish to retrieve any posts forwarded by Mrs. Lightfoot and hurry back to Pate’s farm without being seen. He kept up a correspondence with his housekeeper, for he did not want her or her husband to abandon Winfield Hall like the rest of his staff had done. Today, however, he was not happy with what Mrs. Lightfoot included with her post.

  Inside her letter was an unopened letter from Fitzwilliam Darcy addressed to him at Winfield Hall. Fearful of the content, Andrew ripped it open to read it whilst still standing at the counter.

  May 26, 1812

  Andrew,

  I have not heard from you since you left Meryton for Manchester. Other than your conversation with my wife at the ball in London, you have kept yourself well hidden; thus, I have sent this letter in hopes that you will get it in due course.

  You have, for the most part, abandoned Winfield Hall. As far as I can see, you have done nothing to raise the estate’s income and have, in fact, left even your servants’ salaries for me to pay. It was inevitable that your situation has come to this due to your lack of concern.

  I feel that I have no choice but to put Winfield Hall on the market, as per the stipulations in my father’s will. I shall continue to pay the few servants who still reside until a new owner is secured. If you wish to discuss my decision, I suggest that you make haste, for I am consulting with a solicitor to advertise the property in the London papers this very week.

  Fitzwilliam Darcy

  Furious, Andrew mumbled to himself as he replaced his hat and stalked out of the inn, the door crashing against the wall as he pushed it open.

  Humph! Abandoned Winfield Hall! Not paying my servants! In a few weeks, I will have three hundred pounds, and if he had not withheld my allowance—

  “Andrew, old boy! We meet again!”

  The cheerful greeting caused Andrew to stop dead in his tracks. Had he been found out? Searching the faces of those coming up the steps to the inn, he spotted the source of the greeting and breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Attaway! I am surprised you are still in Derbyshire. I would have thought you would be at Gracehill Park by now.”

  Lord Attaway motioned for Andrew to follow him to the end of the porch where they could talk in private. Once there, he replied, “Oh no. I thought I made it clear that I am a guest at Monthaven until the end of the summer, at the very least. By the way, I told my cousin that I talked with you on the road. She asked me, if we met again, to tell you to come by and see her.”

  Andrew’s expression darkened. “Did she say what it entailed? I am sure she does not want me to come for old times’ sake.”

  Attaway laughed. “I see you know her well. I suppose then that it will come as no surprise that she wants your help.”

  “For what?”

  “She said to separate your cousin from his wife.”

  “She told you of her plans?”

  “You know Susan. When she is obsessed with something, she cannot keep it to herself. She has even solicited me to help keep Georgiana on her side.”

  “I fear that this time her plans will not succeed,” Andrew huffed. “From what little I saw in London, Fitz is love-struck. And that is saying a lot for that killjoy.”

  “I agree with you. I saw him and his wife at Lord Creighton’s ball, and they looked smitten with one another. But you know Susan. Whatever she wants—”

  “She gets.” Andrew finished. “But this time she will concede defeat. Besides, I have problems of my own to worry about. That skinflint Fitz is threatening to sell Winfield Hall right out from under me!”

  “You cannot be serious! What will you do without an estate to provide an income or legitimacy? What is a gentleman without an estate?”

  “I am sure Fitz does not care how it will affect me.”

  “From what I remember about Fitzwilliam, he likes to be thought of as an authority and to be begged for assistance. You need only grovel.”

  “I fear that he and I have crossed that bridge already. Fitz is serious about selling Winfield, and I have to figure out another strategy to make him reconsider.”

  “Then come to Monthaven Manor tomorrow. Susan has always known how to bend men around her little finger. Perhaps she can devise a plan. In any case, you would do well to keep her on your side. She could be useful, especially if you become homeless.”

  “I see your point.” Andrew shrugged. “Tell her I shall visit tomorrow, but I want no one to know I am coming. I fear that if Fitz found out I am this close to Pemberley, he would confront me. I shall see him when I have a plan and not before.”

  “I will pass that along,” Attaway said, tipping his hat. “Until tomorrow then.”

  Andrew tipped his hat as well. “Tomorrow.”

  SHEFFIELD

  In a shadowy corner of an inn just outside Sheffield sat two retired Bow Street runners, both now employed by Fitzwilliam Darcy—Mr. Coleridge and Mr. Harahan, respectively. They had inadvertently crossed paths as they went about their assigned tasks and decided to have a pint of ale and compare notes.

  “So you say that this man, Brumeloe, owned the horse that was left at Eastbrooke Manor in Richmond after the fire?” Coleridge asked.

  “Yes. Not only that, but he left a receipt in a pouch that I traced to a warehouse in Cheapside. The receipt proved most helpful.”

  “How so?”

  Harahan smiled wryly. “It was for a used saddle and the proprietor actually remembered the man who bought it—Andrew Darcy.”

  “He was certain?”

  Harahan took another swig of his ale and wiped his mouth before saying dryly, “According to him, it was easy to recall. His family has done business with the Darcys for years, though he had not so much as heard of Andrew Darcy
until the day he bought the saddle. That and the fact that Andrew favoured Mr. Darcy made the sale stand out in his mind.”

  Coleridge let go with a low whistle. “I fear Mr. Darcy will not be happy to hear that.”

  “I agree. I tracked Brumeloe as far as the Scottish border and lost him near Gretna Green. I understand he has family in Scotland, so it could take years to find him if they help him hide. And Mr. Darcy may not wish to go to more expense tracking him across Scotland when there are no guarantees. No doubt we will never see his ugly face in England again.”

  “He is probably still running as fast as his legs will carry him.”

  “What about you? Have you had any luck?”

  “I have been one step behind Andrew Darcy for weeks. He pulls up stakes a lot for someone not already on a wanted poster. I know for certain that he did not return to his estate in Manchester after leaving London—I imagine because Lord Warren has men watching it. So I played a hunch that he would return to Lambton and that led me here.”

  “But you have not seen him?”

  “No. I have it on good authority that he was in Sheffield only days ago. Some say that he returned to Lambton.”

  “Do you think he is aware that he is being followed by you?”

  “Truthfully, I believe that he keeps moving because he fears Lord Warren will find him. Bloody blazes! If he did return to Lambton, I might have passed him on the road without knowing it.”

  “Do not be so hard on yourself! We cannot commandeer and search all the coaches along the road. Unless we run into our suspects at an inn or post stop, we are limited.”

  “Yes, but Mr. Darcy is not one for excuses, and I owe him another report. I wanted more information than I have presently.”

  “He is reasonable. Why not accompany me back to Pemberley, and we shall both report our findings.”

  Coleridge laughed. “Safety in numbers.”

  “Precisely.”

  Chapter 31

  Pemberley

  Elizabeth’s Bedroom

  A week after the ball

  Occupying the chair in front of her dressing mirror, Elizabeth felt quite alone in spite of the fact that Mrs. O’Reilly had returned to help with her bath and was now styling her hair. Though equally as reluctant as she to end their impromptu honeymoon, William had gone downstairs to meet with Mr. Sturgis regarding some business that the steward felt could not wait. An unexpected loneliness had swept over her with his departure, so much so that Elizabeth now pondered how her disposition could have changed so swiftly. Only a month or so previously, she had relished traipsing all alone through the woods for hours on end, and now her heart was literally aching for her husband’s return. Shaking her head at the reality of being so smitten, Elizabeth forced herself to try to concentrate on what Mrs. O’Reilly was saying.

  “... and I think that it would look lovely in your hair. Not to mention, it is the latest fashion.” Mrs. O’Reilly then smiled at her image in the mirror, evidently awaiting an answer.

  “I... I think it would too,” Elizabeth replied, embarrassed for O’Reilly to know that she had not heard most of what she said. “How do you propose to accomplish it?” she asked, praying that the answer would give her a clue as to the subject.

  “Oh, I shall look for a wide lace at that little shop in Lambton. The loveliest bandeauxs are fashioned from lace, in my opinion, and there is a simple pattern in the magazine that Miss Darcy brought back from London.”

  Letting go a sigh of relief, Elizabeth replied, “I look forward to seeing what you have in mind.” Reminded of Georgiana, who had not been very civil to her when she and William returned to Pemberley after the storm, she asked, “Did Miss Darcy lend you the magazine?”

  “No, ma’am. Florence, her maid, said that there was nothing in it that interested her or her mistress and tossed it on the table in the servants’ quarters. I asked if I might take a look at it, and she told me I could have it.”

  Elizabeth nodded absently, wondering if William’s sister would ever warm to her. Then pushing those concerns aside, she began to make a mental list of what she needed to accomplish whilst William was busy. First and foremost was returning to the foundlings’ home to resume the sewing lessons.

  Mrs. O’Reilly proclaimed that her hair was complete, and Elizabeth looked up to study her refection in the mirror. Pleased with what she saw, she smiled. “Thank you, Mrs. O’Reilly.”

  “You are welcome. Now, do you wish me to return tonight to help you undress or wait until I am summoned?”

  “I had rather you wait. I have no idea what Mr. Darcy will have in mind.” Afterward, Elizabeth blushed at the implication. “I did not mean that quite the way it sounded.”

  Mrs. O’Reilly smiled knowingly. “I shall be ready if and when you need me.” With those words, the maid curtseyed and left the room.

  ONCE THE MAID WAS GONE, Elizabeth entered her bedroom in search of the book wherein she recorded her sewing lessons. Glancing about, she noted something sitting on the table by the bed. A big smile crossed her face when she realised it was the box that had contained her wedding ring. Without thinking, she held her hand out to admire the evidence of William’s devotion and her eyes began to fill with fresh tears. Refusing to indulge in another cry, she took a deep breath and went to retrieve the box. As she did, a piece of paper fell to the floor and she stooped to pick it up.

  Blanchard’s Jewellery – Gold wedding band, 18ct, engraved on outside of band with “First. Last. Only. Always.” Four 1ct diamonds bezel set between each word. Inscribe inside of band with April 28, 1812. One thousand pounds.

  Amazed at how much William had paid for her ring, Elizabeth simply shook her head in awe as she folded the paper and put it back in the small velvet box. Closing the top, she placed everything inside a mahogany chest on her dresser. The chest was one of the few nice possessions she had brought with her from Longbourn, a present from the Gardiners on her eighteenth birthday. As she turned to continue her search, the red spine of her sewing book caught her eye. It peeked out from its hiding place beside the cushion of the upholstered chair near the window. Recovering it, she went out of the room.

  Astonished to have arrived at her study without having encountered a single servant, Elizabeth was equally amazed to find the door open. Stepping just inside, she immediately spied Olivia on the right side of the room, sitting at the large table dedicated to sewing. Her aunt’s head was down, and so focused was she on her needlework, that she did not hear Elizabeth come in.

  “Aunt?”

  Olivia looked up and smiled. “Oh my! I assume this means you have escaped my nephew. Should I hide you under the table?”

  Elizabeth laughed. “I suppose everyone thinks we have deserted them.”

  “Do not mind me, child. I could not resist teasing you a bit.”

  “I do not mind... not really, for I am so very content that nothing could spoil my joy.”

  By then her aunt had put down her sewing and was coming toward her. Hugging Elizabeth, Olivia pulled back to look into her eyes. “That is how marriage should be.”

  “I knew that you would understand, for it was your marriage that inspired me to find the same felicity in my own.”

  “I am so pleased to hear that,” her aunt said, squeezing her hands. Then she tilted her head toward the sewing table. “I hope that you do not mind. Mrs. Reynolds let me in so that I could work on the coats.” She chuckled. “I promised her I would not bother a thing.”

  “I do not mind at all. My only regret is that I have neglected my part of the bargain.”

  “Nonsense! You needed to spend this time alone with Fitzwilliam in order to strengthen your marriage and, as for the coats, Mrs. Kelly, Mrs. O’Reilly and several of Pemberley’s maids are helping with the sewing. Along with what little I have contributed and Mrs. Reynolds’ efforts when she finds the time, we have finished six coats and have two more almost complete.” She motioned to a stack of several items lying in an unoccupied chair. “At this
rate, we will be done long before they are needed.”

  “I am so grateful to everyone for their help.” Then as Olivia moved to sit back down at the table, Elizabeth added, “I do not mean to be rude, but I must hurry if I am to go to Lambton this morning.”

  “To Lambton?”

  “Yes. While my husband is busy with his steward today, I thought that I would teach a sewing lesson. I came in here to find a cross-stitch pattern I wish to use.”

  As Elizabeth searched her desk for the pattern, Aunt Olivia teased, “Are you sure that Fitzwilliam will not go after you the minute he is done with his steward? I can just imagine him riding into Lambton and bringing you home on horseback.”

  Elizabeth laughed. “I had not considered that, but I believe he will be busy for quite some time. After all, he has not met with his steward in over a week.” Then she held up a paper. “I found it.”

  The words had no more than left her mouth than William appeared in the doorway, his face anxious. Just as Elizabeth came around the corner of the desk, with her attention focused on her aunt, he rushed inside. She was both surprised and speechless as he pulled her into his embrace and kissed her hungrily. Logic screamed for her to point out that his aunt was present, but all logic was lost in the sweetness of that kiss. And instead of protesting, she leaned into him.

  Finally, he quit the kiss to declare breathlessly, “I thought Sturgis would never finish. I have missed you so much, sweetheart. Have you missed me?” Without awaiting her answer, he captured her mouth again.

  “Good morning, Nephew!”

  Without letting go of Elizabeth, William’s head swung around. “I... I am sorry, Aunt. I had no idea you were here.”

  “That is obvious.” Olivia teased. “But no apology is necessary... except perhaps from me.” She stood and began gathering her things. “You had no reason to think I was here. Obviously, your attention was elsewhere.”

  “Please stay. As I said, I have to leave shortly,” Elizabeth protested.