Deception

by Ola Wegner

  Unfortunately, her disturbing reactions to his close presence, his voice, his tall figure, did not cease in the least. She questioned herself about what was happening with her. Once when she was looking through Miss Bingley’s music sheets and he came behind her asking her whether she fancied to dance a reel with him. She felt hot again and had to fight the almost irresistible urge to lean into his tall strong frame. It was most unsettling, and she found herself being rude to him again. She knew tall men, much taller than she was. She was the smallest of all her sisters, being her mother’s height, so most men of her acquaintance towered over her. However, she never wanted to snuggle into any of them. Why was he affecting her so much? She did not even like him; she loathed him. Yes, that was right, she loathed him.

  Prolonged coughing was heard from the adjacent room. Elizabeth rose abruptly, lit the candle on the bedside table and checked her personal pocket watch, which she once, as a little girl had received from her grandmother Bennet.

  It was nearly one o’clock. The coughing repeated itself, and Elizabeth got up without hesitation and looked for her slippers, abandoned next to the bed. She wrapped a soft woollen shawl around herself, took a candle and walked to the door. The corridor was pitch dark, and she lifted the candle high, locating Jane’s door.

  She was reaching for the doorknob, when the sounds of someone’s heavy steps came to her, sending shivers down her spine. At once the scene from a gothic novel she had been reading earlier that evening stood behind her eyes, when a heroine encountered the ghost of a tragically deceased poet in the hall of her uncle’s castle. Elizabeth more than once in the past had resented her vivid imagination, which made her crawl into Jane’s bed in the middle night after late evening ghost stories. Jane tried to convince her that they were just novels, and if her reaction to them was so violent, she should simply cease reading them. But Elizabeth could never resist the temptation of a new novel, which her father always ordered for her together with his own books from London.

  And now she was alone in a dark, cold, unfamiliar corridor, in the middle of the night, and someone or perhaps something was climbing the last steps of the staircase, just a few feet from the place where she stood. She knew she should enter her sister’s room this instant and lock the door, but she stayed unmoving, her hand stilled on the doorknob. Raising her eyes, she saw the tall figure in a white shirt, illuminated by one single candle. The individual lifted the candle up, giving itself, in Elizabeth’s view at least, a demonic appearance. She saw dark holes of eyes, a stubbly chin and wildly rumpled hair. She did the same as the heroine in the novel; she screamed.

  “Are you all right?” Someone’s hand was firmly placed on her arm, but it was warm, not icy cold. It was big and warm. “Miss Bennet? Are you all right?”

  She opened her eyes, and relief washed over her. It was Mr. Darcy, not a ghost, only Mr. Darcy. She did not feel like the smartest person in the world at the very moment.

  “Are you all right?” he repeated himself, leaning towards her. Elizabeth wrinkled her nose. Was that brandy?

  “I am fine,” she said at last.

  “You screamed.” He leaned even closer, and the smell of alcohol, mingled with some other scent, perhaps sweat and something spicy hit her again.

  “You scared me, sir. I heard Jane coughing, so I decided to check on her, and I was to just about to open the door to her bedroom when I heard something climbing the staircase, and then I saw…”

  “Something?” Darcy interrupted her, a deep laugh rumbling in his voice. “You did not think me to be a ghost, did you?”

  “Of course not!” Elizabeth denied vehemently. “I thought that some stranger entered the house.”

  Darcy supported himself comfortably with his shoulder against the door frame. “A stranger?” He grinned, admirable dimples gracing his cheeks, his eyes like dark velvet slits sparkling at her. “Stranger you say… I do not think so, Miss Lizzy. You know… I would say you thought me a ghost after all. You see, my younger sister likes reading ghost stories, and let us say I am rather familiar with the possible reaction of a young sensitive lady to them.” He was leaning very closely now, whispering into her ear. “I saw Bingley lending you one earlier today.”

  Elizabeth felt shivers running through her entire body. He had to be a bit in his cups, calling her ‘Miss Lizzy.” She felt dizzy from his nearness and his scent. The dark curly hair peeking from his opened shirt did not help her to keep her wits intact either. She closed her eyes, focusing hard on composing herself. At last she straightened herself to her full height, though still barely reaching his shoulder, narrowed her eyes at him, and pressed her lips together in a thin line.

  “Good night,” she huffed, walking stiffly past him with all the dignity she could muster. She opened the door and closed it soundly just in front of his still smiling face.

  Chapter Three

  The day was cold, even for the middle of November, and cloudy, though it was not raining. Elizabeth was on the way to Meryton with her two youngest sisters. Jane had been convinced to stay home to prevent the possibility of her recent illness renewing itself as the two eldest Bennet sisters had returned from Netherfield only the day before.

  Elizabeth would have gladly stayed home with Jane, despite the fact that their mother had been in a rather unpleasant disposition since their arrival. In Mrs. Bennet’s understanding, they had returned home much too early, wasting the opportunity to stay under Mr. Bingley’s roof a day, or perhaps even two days, longer. The main reason Elizabeth had decided to join her younger sisters today was that her father expected the delivery of books he had ordered from London. Mr. Bennet asked Elizabeth whether she could check at the bookshop to find out if they had arrived.

  Since the regiment of militia had come to Meryton a few weeks earlier, Lydia and Kitty made it the most crucial and absolutely essential point of every day to walk to Meryton, hoping for the chance to meet the officers, or at least to hear some news concerning them at their Aunt Philips’s home. Today, Elizabeth was walking lifelessly, slightly behind her sisters, who kept a good pace, clearly being in high spirits, evidenced by the lively giggling coming from them every few moments.

  Elizabeth had little doubt what the source for such merriment was. She did not condemn entirely her younger sisters’ excitement over the militia’s stationing in the neighbourhood. Indeed, she herself anticipated making some new acquaintances among the officers and their wives. She wrapped her warm velvet cape more securely around herself and looked up at the grey skies. Her mood reflected today’s weather very well indeed. She could not forget about her meeting with Mr. Darcy two days prior in the corridor at Netherfield. The shame burned in her still. for she felt she had behaved as the silliest goose in the entire kingdom. She was telling herself over and over again that she should not bother herself in the least about Mr. Darcy’s opinion about her, and what he could have thought about her.

  The worst, however, was that the morning after the incident in the hall, Mr. Darcy did not speak a single word to her; even his staring stopped. Simply, he completely ignored her, as if she had not been in the same room with him, at the same breakfast table, at all. And even though his earlier stares, as well as his constant contradiction of her ideas and opinions, made her angry and unsettled her, his complete indifference to her person was incomparably worse. The fact that he had ignored her, even to the point of averting his eyes when looking in her direction, somehow hurt her, leaving a pain in her chest she did not want to admit. She could not help but wonder whether he remembered their meeting at all. She doubted he was so drunk as to have no memory of the previous night. On the other hand, what did she expect him to say to her? What happened was, after all, most awkward and inappropriate.

  Enough of Mr. Darcy, she ordered herself for at least the tenth time since her return from Netherfield. She should be content, and feel truly blessed that such a disagreeable and arrogant man wanted to have nothing to do with her.

  Elizabeth was so lost in h
er thoughts that she did not notice they had reached Meryton, and Kitty was asking her whether she would come directly with her and Lydia to Aunt Philips’. Elizabeth answered she would first step into the bookshop and join them later. The three sisters parted, and soon Elizabeth was entering the bookshop. The owner, Mr. Blake, had her father’s delivery already prepared, asking her to check only whether the order was as Mr. Bennet had placed it. Elizabeth looked through the books and asked to have them wrapped in paper.

  She was leaving the shop when she heard a man’s voice calling her name.

  “Miss Bennet!”

  She turned in the direction of the voice and smiled, seeing their new neighbour. “Mr. Brooke.” She curtseyed politely. “I am surprised to see you. We have not heard of you lately.”

  The man stopped in front of her and bowed, removing his top hat. “I have been in London.”

  Elizabeth smiled archly at him. “Bored with the country life already, are you?”

  Mr. Brooke shook his head. “No, not at all. On the contrary, I must say, I feel that life in the country suits me very well indeed, but my business called me to town.”

  “I see. Pray forgive me; it was thoughtless of me to forget you are a man of occupation,” Elizabeth spoke earnestly.

  Mr. Brooke smiled, speaking gently. “No harm done. I called on your father three days ago, but you were not at home, I understood.”

  “Yes, I was at Netherfield, nursing my sister, Jane. She dined with Mr. Bingley’s sisters a few days ago and developed a bad cold on her way, causing her to need to stay there a few days.”

  “It is admirable you decided to take care of her.”

  “I do not consider it as something admirable to aid someone you care about, especially a member of your closest family. I would rather think it to be most natural.”

  “Natural you say…,” Mr. Brooke spoke in a detached, as if absent voice. “You are perfectly right, I am sure. It is just my perspective may be different as I have no family at all.”

  “No one at all?” Elizabeth asked softly, his admission involuntarily touching her heart.

  Mr. Brooke settled his eyes on some point above her head. “No, my parents died when I was a lad, and my elder sister passed away so long time ago, I hardly remember her at all. My wife and I had not children, so after she died a few years ago, I was left all alone.” He ended his speech looking at his shoes. Elizabeth could sense his uneasiness. She felt for him, poor man, all alone in the world.

  “I am sorry to hear it,” she spoke kindly. “You, sir, leave me all ashamed of myself. How many times I have resented having four sisters, even though I love my family dearly.”

  Mr. Brooke looked at her at last, meeting her concerned eyes. “Is that not too heavy for you, Miss Bennet?” He pointed to her package. “Perhaps I could assist you?”

  “No, thank you. These are only a few books for my father. They have just arrived from London and are not really heavy.” Elizabeth smiled reassuringly. “I am on my way to my aunt, Mrs. Philips’s to join my younger sisters there.”

  “Let me at least carry your books to Mrs. Philips’,” he insisted, and Elizabeth allowed her package to be taken from her and took the man’s proffered arm. Mr. Brooke made their way through the muddy main street on the short distance to the Philipses’ house. Elizabeth noticed he made an effort to choose the driest path, as she managed to spare her shoes and skirts.

  “During my last visit, I noticed that your father possessed an impressive library.” Mr. Brooke spoke again when they reached their destination.

  “Yes, books are my father’s true passion, I believe. He is a great reader.”

  “So are you, I hear.”

  Elizabeth shook her head with a smile. “I would not call myself such. I simply enjoy reading”

  “I see.” he said and then paused as if gathering his thoughts.

  Elizabeth waited patiently for what he wanted to tell her. At length he started hesitantly. “Miss Bennet, there is something I would wish to ask you, a favour.” He looked at her searchingly. “But only on the condition I am not too daring…”

  “You know, Mr. Brooke, I owe you,” Elizabeth spoke bashfully. “I should have done it earlier, thanked you, I mean. However, there was no opportunity, and I did not know how to start.”

  His brows creased. “Thank me?”

  “You must know what I mean.” Elizabeth sighed softly. “You were so gracious and did not mention to anybody about my wild and unladylike behaviour that afternoon when we met the first time. I am most grateful for this, sir. I dread to think how my mother would react if she learned about this.”

  Mr. Brooke shrugged his arms. “It did not even cross my mind to tell anyone about it. I saw no reason.”

  Elizabeth gave him a rueful smile and shook her head. “I truly do not know how such situations happen to me all the time.”

  “You are simply young, Miss Bennet, and possess high spirits. Therefore, there is nothing unusual in your behaviour,” he spoke calmly, and Elizabeth could detect the understanding or, perhaps, forbearing in his voice.

  “You are very kind, but what about the favour you mentioned earlier?”

  “Yes…,” He cleared his throat. “I know your secret now, and only this makes me brave enough to share mine. It is a shameful thing for me to admit it, but you see, I have no formal education. I was orphaned young, had to struggle with life’s hardships, and in my youth had no time or opportunity to go to any school. I feel myself lacking in this aspect. Now I have more time and can afford to buy books, but have no idea where to start. Would you help me with this Miss Bennet? Would you recommend a basic reading list in such fields as history, botany and literature, something comprehensible enough and appropriate for a beginner?”

  Elizabeth beamed. “That would be my pleasure, sir,” she ensured him enthusiastically. “I shall draw the list yet today.”

  “Thank you.” Mr. Brooke spoke with what Elizabeth thought was perhaps relief.

  At length Elizabeth added thoughtfully. “But, sir, I am not entirely sure whether I am the best person to help you on such a matter. Perhaps you could find someone more competent.”

  “I think you will suit very well, Miss Bennet,” he spoke, and in such a tone that Elizabeth felt suddenly uneasy in his company.

  She remained silent for a moment, her brow creased, before speaking again. “Sir, there is only one thing I must ask you.” She bit her lower lip. “You see, I think it would be the best to keep our agreement only between us. Meryton is a small town, and gossip is often the sole source of entertainment here. I am afraid that some people may come to some untrue conclusions about us, knowing of our understanding, even on such an innocent matter as books.” Elizabeth searched the man’s face, making sure he understood her meaning. “It would be far better if no one was to learn about this,” she stressed and then added quickly. “But, of course, we can discuss the books you complete later on.”

  Mr. Brooke held her eyes for a moment before speaking easily. “I think I understand your point, Miss Bennet.”

  “I am glad,” Elizabeth replied, feeling relieved. “Pray, believe me, it is difficult enough for me to speak about this with you; but I truly believe it would be for the best. I shall have the list prepared next time we see each other, which I think should be a tea party at my Aunt Philips next week. I will give the list to you discreetly. There will be many people, so I doubt anyone should notice anything.”

  “That would be very good, Miss Bennet. I thank you.” Mr. Brooke bowed deeply and then replaced his top hat. Elizabeth curtseyed politely, relieved that he clearly understood her meaning, and took her books from him. She watched as he walked away from her for a moment before turning to her aunt’s house.

  “Miss Bennet!” She heard Mr. Brooke’s voice once again, calling from in front of the entrance door. She turned around. Mr. Brooke stood face to face with her, due to the fact that Elizabeth was on the second step. Consequently, their eyes were at the same lev
el.

  “Yes.” She enquired politely, her eyes searching his face.

  He started to speak hastily. “I think I perfectly understand your caution on the matter we have just discussed, and even admire it, and I am determined to respect your wish. Nevertheless, pray let me assure you, Miss Bennet, I would have nothing against anyone suggesting that there is something more to our agreement. Contrary to some people’s opinions, I find you incomparably more than tolerable.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes widened at these words, and her mouth opened and closed as if she wanted to say something more. Mr. Brooke bowed deeply again and spoke quickly. “Forgive me if I have said too much, Miss Bennet.” And he was gone.

  Elizabeth stood on her spot motionlessly, till the door behind her back opened, and she was almost forcefully pulled inside by her aunt.

  “Oh, Lizzy!” The older woman cried excitedly, still in the hall, just when the servant closed the entrance door. “What were you doing there so long with Mr. Brooke? What was he speaking to you?”

  Elizabeth came to terms with herself enough to answer evenly, her voice calm. “Nothing of consequence, Aunt. He was asking me questions about books.”

  “Books?”

  “Yes, he saw me leaving the bookshop. He wants to start his own library at Purvis Lodge, I believe.”

  “Lizzy, this man is worth at least fifteen thousand pounds a year. If you could catch him….”

  “Aunt.” Elizabeth interrupted her firmly. “Mr. Brooke spoke to me about ordering books from London. Only books. There is nothing more to it.”

  “But he spoke with you, Lizzy, with you!” her Aunt insisted. “The subject of your conversation is not that important. I tell you that you may have the chance to take his fancy, if you play it well of course.” Mrs. Philips patted her niece’s rosy cheek. “You are smart girl after all. You can do it. It is high time for you to use your mind for something more substantial than books.”

  Elizabeth sighed heavily in exasperation, barely restraining herself from rolling her eyes. She removed her cape, bonnet, and gloves, leaving the items with the waiting maid, and followed her aunt upstairs where the drawing room was situated.