Elizabeth was surprised to find, upon examining her feelings during this revelation, that she could not be angered at the gentleman’s interference. Though she believed she ought, instead she felt an uncharacteristic hesitation to condemn Mr. Darcy. Did she not counsel her sister days ago to be more open to Mr. Bingley and leave him in no doubt of her feelings? If Mr. Darcy was concerned that Jane did not care for his friend, would it not be natural that he might wish to save Mr. Bingley the pain of discovery upon a later date? Elizabeth was slightly startled by this reasoning and by the objectivity on her part.
Jane took advantage of her sister’s silence and continued. “I wished to share not the reason Charles left” — Jane blushed at her first use of his Christian name with her sister — “but the astonishing intelligence of what brought him back to the neighborhood. I had thought that perhaps news of our accident had reached him through my letter to his sister, but when he returned, he seemed genuinely surprised and upset to learn of it, as if he had not known beforehand. He shared with me today that his friend persuaded him to return.”
Elizabeth looked up at her sister with interest.
“Mr. Darcy came to him and confessed that he thought he might have been in error and was concerned that, indeed, I might care for Mr. Bingley. He came in hopes that Charles might decide to find the truth of the matter himself by returning.”
Abruptly Elizabeth’s eyes became unfocused and her mind distracted by a fleeting image. It was so swift to pass through her consciousness that it was gone before she could grasp it. She shook her head to clear the haze and returned to the present conversation.
“What could have been Mr. Darcy’s motive in doing so if, as you said before, he had doubts sufficient to make him give the initial advice for quitting the neighborhood?”
“Charles said he was not at liberty to say exactly but that his friend wished only to right a possible wrong and to hope for his happiness. Do you not think this singular proof of Mr. Darcy’s goodness?”
Elizabeth eyed her sister with amusement but was silent for a minute. “It is quite a singular thing to discuss during a proposal, to be sure.”
Nodding, she looked down at where their hands were clasped together. “I cannot deny the truth of that; however, I shall be glad forever that he shared this with me. For it went a long way to proving his constancy, which I believe was his motive in all.”
“I think you may be correct, Jane.”
Seeing her sister’s cheeks begin to flush, Elizabeth suspected there might be more of the proposal to relate, and though the hour was late, their evening was not yet over.
“And . . . after this most serious revelation . . . ” Elizabeth prompted.
“He made a promise never to leave me again.”
“But I suspect there is yet more, Jane. Indeed, I can see from your cheeks there is. Come now, sister; tell me all!”
Elizabeth watched as Jane shot her a wicked smile, and though she still could not quite meet Elizabeth’s eyes for any length of time, she said, “Let us just say that, were it not for Mama’s immediately bursting into the room not long after his explanation — ”
“She could not be persuaded not to listen at the door, Jane, though I tried!”
Jane shrugged and pulled at a loose thread from her shawl. With a tremor to her voice, she continued, “Were it not for her interruption, I believe that Mr. Bingley may have attempted to . . . be even more amiable.”
Elizabeth chortled in hilarity and hugged her sister. “I have no doubt. Mr. Bingley is a very amiable gentleman.”
“Lizzy!” Jane laughed. Though just thinking of receiving a kiss from Mr. Bingley was enough to bring Jane’s cheeks to full bloom and send them both into sisterly speculations as to how it might be accomplished and what it might be like to be kissed by a gentleman. Elizabeth unconsciously tasted her lips during the course of the discussion, feeling a tingling sensation.
* * *
As the days of January faded into the early weeks of February, Elizabeth found that, although she slowly regained her physical strength, the strange blanket over her emotions remained. It was not that she did not feel things; it was that with some things she felt differently, and at other times she felt as if she were totally disconnected from her heart.
She was walking around the garden in contemplation of these changes when she heard footsteps on the frosty ground coming from behind her. Turning, she welcomed the visitor with surprise.
“Mr. Wickham! It has been an age since we saw you last, sir!” Elizabeth said laughing.
The gentleman bowed to her and said, “Miss Elizabeth, I am truly gladdened by the scene before me! For here you are standing in perfect health once again.”
Elizabeth felt an unease begin the moment she heard his voice. Unable to account for it, she pushed it aside. “As you see, sir.”
“I hope you will forgive the tardiness of my visit, Miss Elizabeth,” he said with a flirtatious smile that spoke of his assurance of her absolution. “My duties as an officer have not readily made it possible for me to call upon you until now. I had heard that you were very ill, but it seems you have made a quick recovery.”
“It was not quick, I assure you, Mr. Wickham,” Elizabeth said amiably. The unease she felt earlier increased; nothing in his actions or manner of speaking were improper, and yet she felt much apprehension.
“May I escort you inside? My friends have come with me to call and are already within.”
Elizabeth nodded, and yet when she reached to take his arm, she immediately felt a panic bloom within her breast that she ought not to trust this man. It alarmed her enough for her to pause with her arm extended not quite to him. Her eyes flew to his, and she saw nothing there that was unfamiliar. He still had an open countenance, and he was clearly waiting expectantly for her to take his arm. The disquiet she felt in this discovery of yet another change within her made her pull her arm back and return her hand to its mate within the warmth of her muff.
“I had not realized how very cold it is, sir. I think I should like to allow my hands the benefit of my muff, if you do not mind.”
His easy smile was incongruent with her feelings, and she winced.
“Not at all, Miss Elizabeth. Shall we?” He gestured toward the walk that led back to the house, and soon they were enveloped in the warmth of Longbourn.
After divesting their outerwear, they made their way to the sitting room with a slight awkward silence that the gentleman easily accepted was due to the length of time since they had been in company together. Wickham smiled to himself at her obvious feelings for him. He could tell that she was more timid towards him, perhaps even punishing him for his negligence. He liked her for her intellect and looked forward to bringing the bloom to her cheeks again as he charmed his way back into her good graces.
Elizabeth only needed to be among her family again, and she instinctively knew that, once void of Wickham’s sole company, she would feel better. She was relieved that the constriction about her chest released, and she felt more at ease once they entered the room.
She looked for a place to sit among the many officers, and just as her companion was about to guide her to a secluded set of chairs on the side of the room, Elizabeth noted with relief that Lydia made her way to them in haste. Elizabeth could not be more thankful for her youngest sister’s enthusiasm for officers and was pleased to see Lydia wedge her way between them.
“Mr. Wickham, it is such a surprise to see you here,” she began. “You have not paid a visit to Longbourn since before the New Year.”
Elizabeth noted a slight edge to her sister’s voice but put it off as her imagination. She looked to the gentleman and could see he, too, had perceived something in her sister’s tone, and at once Elizabeth wondered whether Lydia really was displeased with Mr. Wickham.
Wickham, indeed, had noticed the sharpness in Lydia’s voice and smiled to himself at the evidence that yet another Bennet lady had missed him. Lydia was a wild one, and he enjoyed he
r sauciness as much as he was stimulated by Elizabeth’s ready wit. And both had figures that pleased him. He was not concerned over any apparent change in their behavior towards him. It mattered not, as he was quite capable of winning over both of them and would take pleasure doing so.
“Miss Lydia.” Wickham bowed handsomely and raised her hand to his face. Though he did not place a kiss on it, he looked seriously at her while he said, “Please forgive me. As I was telling your sister earlier, an officer’s time is often not his own when in the service of our king.”
Elizabeth was surprised, then, to see her sister pull her hand out of his grasp with a decided shake of her head. Lydia took up Elizabeth’s arm, pulling her firmly to her side. “Indeed, it would appear, however, that Miss King is the only sovereign whose favor you seek, Mr. Wickham.”
Wickham started at this and still had the politesse to color. Though he did not like that either Bennet lady might have reason to withdraw from his attentions due to his engagement to Miss King, he did however find pleasure in the idea that now formed in his mind. A catlike grin formed as he presumed that the ever-entertaining, ever-cheeky Lydia was jealous of his transfer of affections to Miss King. Indeed, as he looked at Elizabeth’s pinched brow, he could see that she might be feeling the slight as well.
“Ladies,” he purred. “Do not be angry with me.” Here he gave them each his best look of contrition before continuing with his seduction. “The ladies of Longbourn have held and will always hold a special place for me. But you must concede that handsome young men must have something to live on as well as the plain.”
Elizabeth was struck with the mercenary sound of his words, despite his teasing efforts. Her unease in his presence remained, however, even with her sister holding dearly to her arm. Elizabeth observed Lydia, who looked quite put out. Upon consideration, Elizabeth could not comprehend why such would be the case unless Lydia was perhaps jealous of Miss King’s good fortune. She knew her sister’s nature would be to behave petulantly with Wickham in attempts to gain back his attention. But still more likely, Elizabeth thought, Lydia might just as easily turn her own attentions towards another.
While Elizabeth puzzled over her sister, Lydia was far from confused herself. She had seen her sister come in with Wickham, and it had brought to the fore all the growing resentments she had for the man. His worst sin in Lydia’s eyes, however, was his blatant disregard for the feelings of others when he cared not an ounce to come and call in the aftermath of the accident. Even now, it was nearly a month since Elizabeth had awakened, and he was only just calling!
Lydia stepped closer to Wickham then, and by virtue of her hold on Elizabeth’s arm, her sister was brought forward too. The gentleman leaned in, encouraged by the fire in Lydia’s eyes or misinterpreting it.
Lydia lowered her voice, so that she might not be heard, and passionately began to speak. “Mr. Wickham, let us be clear and not make excuses. You cared not to visit us when our family would have welcomed a kind ear. You cared not to show any constancy in your regard for any member of this household. I will not embarrass you, however much you have offended me, by asking you to take your leave immediately, but I will say this: You are not welcome, sir, in this home anymore.” Elizabeth felt her sister’s grip tighten even as her own jaw fell in astonishment. She listened, positively amazed, as her sister poured forth a grave warning. “And should you choose to disregard this and attempt to associate with us outside of these walls, I will notify my father immediately.”
Wickham’s brows rose in bewilderment, as if he had never before been spurned by a lady. Elizabeth was quite stunned yet delighted by Lydia’s pronouncement. Though she had not thought to condemn the gentleman — given that she was not particularly troubled by his absence — she could see that her sister was offended and rightly so when his sins were put forth in such a manner. Elizabeth was filled with a familial sense of pride for the uncharacteristic show of maturity and loyalty on Lydia’s part, and she gave her arm a squeeze since words were beyond her.
Mr. Wickham at that time had the good grace to blush and quietly bowed as he backed away, feigning a new interest in the view outside the window for the remainder of the visit.
After watching him retreat, and upon gaining her wits again, Elizabeth turned to her sister. “Brava Lydia. Whatever caused you to champion me against the gentleman in such a way?” Lydia looked down at her shoes, and Elizabeth realized she had never seen her sister demur before. Elizabeth tilted her head until she could see into Lydia’s eyes once more and said, “Come, dear sister, I am proud of you.”
“I did not like . . . that is, Lizzy, I . . . I could not like it when you were so ill.”
Elizabeth, who was filled then with a feeling of tenderness for her often impulsive, always passionate sister, reached to place a hand on Lydia’s cheek.
“But as you see, I am well now.”
“I may not always show it Lizzy,” Lydia said as she straightened and affected composure. “But I do care for my sisters, and I did not like the thought of . . . of losing you. Furthermore, that gentleman,” she gestured with a flick of her fan, “acted as if nothing had happened.”
* * *
With a definitive stroke of his quill, Darcy made a clear black line across the ledger delineating the end of the section before he signed and dated it. He paused before placing his pen once again in its holder and handing the book to his steward.
“What is next, my good man?” he said with more briskness than he intended.
His steward did not react, but merely answered in an even tone. “That is all, Mr. Darcy. We have finished the last of them and in good time, too.”
“That is all? But surely we cannot be finished,” Darcy said looking about, aware that a slight panic was worming its way into his consciousness. He needed to stay busy, or he would never be able to move on.
“We have in three weeks finished the audits that usually take us two months, sir. I have no doubt that, with the hours you have devoted, you are now in need of some well-deserved leisure.”
Leisure was the last thing Darcy wished for — or needed. He looked at his steward and was aware that he was acting with uncharacteristic exertion with regard to his estate matters. Still he needed further distraction. Hoping it did not come out like a plea, he said, “Surely there is something else that needs to be done. This is a great estate, Jacobs. What is next on the list?”
The older man laughed and began to pack up his books into his satchel. “For you, nothing. Even I do not have much left to do, thanks to your studied employment these last weeks.”
“What is on your list still? Perhaps there is something . . . ” Darcy’s voice died away at the man’s strange expression.
“I assure you, Mr. Darcy, it is nothing that I cannot handle. You need not concern yourself, and I must earn the wages you pay me, sir,” said Jacobs good-humoredly with his long-time employer. They had always had a comfortable working relationship stemming from a mutual respect of the other’s talents.
When he could see that Mr. Darcy looked momentarily disappointed at his statement, he paused. He had wondered at the increased energy with which his employer had attacked their work over the past few weeks since his unscheduled arrival at Pemberley. Knowing that it was not his place to ask, Jacobs held his tongue and studied his master’s face.
“Tomorrow, I will oversee some preparation on the land east of the river in the lower fields.”
Darcy looked up eagerly. “What time shall I meet you, sir?”
“I had thought to ride out at eight.”
Darcy stood, and with evident relief, he shook hands with his steward then walked him to the door. “I will see you tomorrow then.”
Mr. Jacobs paused at the threshold of the master’s study. He looked up at the young man and again thought to say something. Mr. Darcy had worked relentlessly for weeks and looked as if he had not slept the entire time. A break was perhaps warranted, though Jacobs knew it was not his place to suggest it. “
Perhaps, sir, Miss Darcy might wish to come to Pemberley as well? I could arrange for her transport.”
Darcy smiled kindly at his steward and patted him on the back as he ushered him through the door. “I think we are far too busy to consider that option for now. I would hate to have her come all this way and find that I have no time to spend with her. Besides, she is quite happily ensconced at Darcy House with Colonel Fitzwilliam.”
Knowing that to say anything more would be out of line, Jacobs nodded, bowed to his master, and left him to walk to the steward’s office at the back of the house
Darcy watched until the man was out of sight before turning around and closing himself off in his study. It was still midday, and until that moment, he had eagerly distracted himself with estate business from sunrise to sunset since coming from Hertfordshire.
Wincing at the thought of his most recent travels, Darcy paced to the window to look out at the winter scene. He could not and he would not think of Elizabeth.
He had thought at first to go to London upon quitting Netherfield and had written to that end when he had left a note for Bingley. But he knew as soon as the first change of horses that he could not bear to go there. He informed his coachmen, and they changed direction to travel direct to Pemberley. It was a fortunate change of plans, for he had only to inform his butler in London of his location in case of an emergency, and he was left alone. Bingley thought him in London, his cousin and sister would think he was in Hertfordshire. A part of him knew he ought to better inform them. Of course, he would eventually.
Though Pemberley was certainly a longer carriage ride — one that was made more difficult by the empty seat in front of him mocking him — it was exactly the place he most needed to go.
He had to escape to a place he could find solitude, despite his loneliness. He needed to be away from the worried eyes of his sister, outside the prying observations of his cousin, and most certainly, absent from the home where she had haunted him, quite literally.
Haunting Mr. Darcy Page 28
