She sat crying for a moment, when a gentle hand tapped her shoulder. Elizabeth turned to see Mrs Reynolds.
“I understand you are leaving us, Miss Bennet.” Mrs Reynolds looked sad and old.
“I am sorry to say it, but it is so. You have been most kind to me, Mrs Reynolds. I shall never forget you or Pemberley. I do not want to go.”
Mrs Reynolds looked seriously into Elizabeth’s upturned, tear-stained face. “Then do not go. In spite of his wealth, my master has not had an easy life. He lost his mother young and worried always that his very own father might prefer another boy — a most unworthy boy — to himself. He does not trust women, other than his sister. I think his father warned him to hold himself back. But with you, he is easy; he laughs; he is relaxed and happy. You are so lovely, so gracious. You do not put on airs, and you seem to appreciate Pemberley in a way few women do. You understand it as a place, not a possession. I am afraid for him if you leave him without hope. You will return?”
“The situation calling me and my family so urgently away may resolve in such a manner, it might be best for Mr Darcy and his sister that I do not return. If you knew the particulars, you would understand.”
“I am an old woman, Miss Bennet. Life has taught me things. One of them is to trust love. It will find a way.”
Elizabeth burst into sobs, grasping the old housekeeper around the waist. Mrs Reynolds shushed and patted her until Elizabeth’s breath returned somewhere near normal. When she was able, she said with a shaky chuckle, “I cannot believe myself today. I have never cried this much in the whole of my life. I am so sorry.”
“I have no place to ask this, Miss Bennet, but do you love my master?”
Elizabeth knew she could not lie. She responded in a strong voice, “Indeed, I do, Mrs Reynolds. I love him. With my whole heart, I love him.”
“I know you do, my dear. I just wanted to hear you say it. I believe you will come back to us. I feel it.”
The two women smiled at each other, then impulsively as she stood to leave, Elizabeth kissed the old woman’s forehead and whispered, “Thank you.”
* * *
With a heavy heart, Darcy emerged from the library and saw Elizabeth disappear down the kitchen stairs. How typical of her…she goes to say good-bye to Mrs Reynolds.
“Darcy!” Bingley approached, waving a letter. “Here is my express to Netherfield.” Bingley looked closely at Darcy’s strained face. “Good god, man! You look awful. What is wrong?”
Darcy gave him a tight smile. “I have Elizabeth’s letter to Longbourn here. I’ll just fetch a footman to take them down to Kympton; it is faster.”
A concerned yet knowing look covered Bingley’s face. “You have just seen her?”
“She is in a bad way, Bingley. Why is she so ready to assume the worst of me?”
“Why are you so ready to hide yourself from her? Darcy, if you were to tell her you leave for London tomorrow, that you make no promises but you intend to try to help her family, it would mean everything to her. You think it would only confer a burden of gratitude, but I think you mistake the matter entirely. Give her some credit.”
Darcy studied his friend. If only I knew she loves me. If she does, why is she coy? Why say she loves Pemberley and everyone in it, and not say she loves me?
Bingley saw his words were being considered and grew bolder. “Darcy, have you told her you love her? Have you said the words instead of letting flowers speak for you? As lively as Elizabeth can be, she is not frivolous. She is no idle flirt. She would never dream of revealing her heart if she felt it would be improper. She is like Jane that way. Charlotte Collins used to tell them a lady should show more than she feels and leave a man in no doubt, even express more than she feels. Jane told me that she and Elizabeth do not agree. They think it dishonest.”
“She says she does not know whether she will ever come back to Pemberley — that if matters with Wickham and her sister are as she fears, it would bring dishonour upon Georgie and me to even know her. Can you imagine?”
“Then you, sir, will have to go to her. When we know how this charade is to be played, if Wickham can be found and made to do the right thing, or even if we discover Lydia abandoned, when the dust has settled, you must come to Netherfield immediately.”
“Of course, you are right, Bingley. You are absolutely right. You are a good and true friend.”
Bingley laughed. “There! You said it without being prompted. Good man!”
They turned and proceeded to find a footman to ride into Kympton. As they walked, Darcy explained to Bingley there would be letters for Elizabeth arriving at Netherfield from Georgiana.
“You see, Darcy? That is precisely my point. That is just the sort of little consideration Elizabeth or Jane make by instinct. They are aware of their precarious connections and the impression their family makes upon the world.”
“Elizabeth insists on this nicety because the present situation reminds her of the ill-judged remarks I made last April. There I was, telling of her family’s improprieties, when she had just spent six weeks listening to the appalling incivilities of my aunt. Was there ever such a hypocrite as Fitzwilliam Darcy?”
“If Elizabeth is comforted by secrecy, she shall have it,” Bingley confirmed. “It will give me a chance to speak to her of you, and if you will make the most of the opportunity, you may include a few words of your own from time to time in Georgie’s letters. It would forward your suit.”
“Perhaps I shall drag Georgiana to London when Mrs Annesley returns. That way, Georgie would not have to spend her seventeenth birthday alone.”
“There you are!” Bingley chuckled. “A perfect plan.”
Sweet William
“Gallantry”
Chapter 10
To Longbourn and London
Saturday, 1 August, 1812
At two o’clock, the Darcy carriage carrying the Bennet sisters, and the Bingley carriage with Mrs Gardiner and her four children, left Pemberley with Bingley riding on horseback alongside. Elizabeth’s eyes were red but dry; she felt herself to be cried out.
Darcy quietly instructed the drivers to exit the Pemberley area through Lambton. He did not want Elizabeth to see or know she had been through Kympton, since the little town was now associated in everyone’s mind with George Wickham. The travellers would spend two nights at inns along their route and arrive at Longbourn three days hence.
Darcy had stopped to watch from a window as Elizabeth played with her little cousins for half an hour upon the lawn where, not two weeks before, he met her by surprise — of course, he now called it fate. Although the Gardiner children were fair and their cousin Elizabeth dark, Darcy could easily imagine sometime in the future when it would be his children playing with this woman, their mother, Elizabeth Darcy, on the lawn. He closed his eyes. When he opened them again, Elizabeth had been joined by Bingley and Jane, who helped gather the children and bring them to the house. It must mean they are ready to leave. Then I will prepare to leave myself. Darcy sighed, not for the first time.
* * *
After the carriages were gone and Darcy’s own packing had begun, he slipped away to wander idly through the halls of his home. He leaned for a few moments against the door of the music room, remembering Elizabeth’s voice. He lingered in the dining room, staring at the chair to his right where Elizabeth had been habitually seated during her stay. He stood behind his chair, looking to the end of the long table where she would sit as his wife, and dreamt of exchanging looks with her over some guest’s absurdities. This house will never be right again without her. Bingley is correct. If she will not come back, I must go to her and bring her back. This is her home. With me.
Darcy went down the formal staircase to the receiving room, where at about ten o’clock that morning they had all been so very joyful. At least Bingley had made his case to Jane Bennet and was accepted. There would be a wedding, for Charles Bingley was no longer a man to let the nefarious actions of strangers, the selfish con
spiracies of his sisters, or the well-meaning but ridiculous interference of friends stand in the way of his own happiness. Even though his engagement, sure to be sanctioned since his request to court Jane had been thoroughly endorsed by her father, was only an hour old when the horrible letter from Longbourn arrived, he would not betray Jane’s unfading love.
Why cannot Elizabeth have faith in me? I had permission to court her, why did I never tell her I love her? Even in the library, I said everything except that. Why was I missish? He huffed with exasperation at himself. I need a walk.
Darcy proceeded outside and strode to the kennels. He ordered the dog runs opened, and his pack of foxhounds burst out toward the stables, thinking they would run with the horses. Darcy whistled and the dozen dogs wheeled around excitedly, then followed him as he made long strides up the hills into the woods, where the paths were mere trails and the hiking would be strenuous.
When he re-entered Pemberley an hour later, he brought his favourite bitch, Hermia, with him. He entered by the kitchen door and walked up the pantry hall towards the stairs. When he passed the stillroom, he stopped. He regretted never being in the room with Elizabeth. How charming she must have looked, working away like a little gipsy at her potions. His eyes went immediately to the bottle on the table and he stepped quickly into the room. When he read the card, he slid, disheartened, into a chair. Remind me of her, remind me of her! She does not know her cruelty. But she was happy here… It was too much. Darcy’s eyes stung and were blurry when he saw the second card with its little brown flower. He did not know the significance of a red chrysanthemum, but his heart sank when he realised his own clumsiness had caused the blossom to be upset. Clearly, the flower held significance for Elizabeth. He felt the tears spill onto his cheeks, his mouth forming a grimace to keep from audibly sobbing. Finally he emitted a low growling moan and a very alarmed Hermia stood her front legs upon his thigh and began baying, a deep carrying howl, which he was sure would bring servants running. He had no handkerchief. He had not taken up another to replace that which had gone to Elizabeth. The dog began licking him and Darcy had to smile. This would explain his wet face at least.
“Mr Darcy! What a commotion!” Mrs Reynolds was the first to reach the room. She turned back and held up a hand to the two approaching scullery maids. “It is nothing, girls, just the master. He’s brought a dog in…”
Mrs Reynolds closed the door behind her and stood at her master’s shoulder. She saw what Elizabeth left behind and reckoned Darcy had been crying. “That dog slobber does not fool me, sir.”
He turned his head and shoulders to embrace Mrs Reynolds around her waist, shaken by fresh grief. Through his coughed sobs, he thought he could smell lavender on her apron. When he could, he said, “Mrs Reynolds, dear old thing, have you been making lavender biscuits?”
She looked at him oddly, “No sir.” Then she remembered Miss Elizabeth Bennet wore that scent. “You are not the first person today to cry into my apron.” She dried his tears with the apron, thinking it might have been over twenty years since the last time she had done so.
Darcy was astonished. “You were in here, today, when Elizabeth was? I saw her come down the stairs. I thought she had done so to extend her gratitude.”
“She did, Mr Darcy, but came in here first. I found her crying over that little flower in this very chair. You are quite a pair, you and she.” Mrs Reynolds smiled.
“It is a red chrysanthemum, or was, do you know what it signifies? Should I fetch Georgie’s herbal?”
“I have my own, sir.” Mrs Reynolds slipped from the room and returned a moment later.
“It is a different edition from Miss Georgiana’s but quite thorough.”
Darcy took the book and read ‘Chrysanthemum, red — I love’. “Oh god,” he handed the book opened to the pertinent page to Mrs Reynolds. “She took the risk and I bungled it.” He lowered his head. He inhaled. He exhaled.
Mrs Reynolds said, “Yes, she told me she loves you.”
“What? When?”
“Just now, here, in the stillroom before she left. I asked her, and she paused. I do not think she wanted to tell me, but I can be a charming old lady sometimes, and she could not lie.” Her eyes twinkled at her master. “She said she loves you with her whole heart, Mr Darcy. How you get her back here, I do not know, but just see that you do.”
Darcy chuckled, and his dog took the opportunity to crawl halfway onto his lap and lick his face again.
“When she was here, I found myself humming, Mr Darcy, humming. As I worked, I was like a songbird and have been since she came that morning. I have not done that since your mother was alive. I found myself hoping…”
“Had I seen this in the nosegay as she intended it, had I not been a clumsy oaf, I would not have waited for Miss Jane to arrive, let alone for Bingley to propose. I would be a betrothed man by now. I could have offered her some proper comfort today instead of standing around like a dead stick. Bingley and Georgiana are sure she loves me, but I would not believe it. I thought she would say it if she felt so, but she must have thought I knew her feelings and was ignoring the chance she took in revealing herself. I have committed a deadly sin, Mrs Reynolds; I have been missish. Elizabeth must think me spoiled and heartless.”
“She found the flower, Mr Darcy, and left it for you particularly. She did not have to do it; you must not lose sight of that. She could only think you sadly uninformed.”
“True enough.” Darcy toyed with the dried blossom in his hand, and two petals fell onto the table. “Oh! Have we mucilage? I shall affix this to the card she wrote before I ruin it altogether.”
Mrs Reynolds found the pot and noticed the refreshed label. “Do you recognise this writing, sir?” She smiled.
Darcy dabbed the sticky paste onto the card and gently tapped the flower into it. He carefully laid it aside then stood. “Is there more of her writing?”
“Look for it in the cupboard with the glass front, sir,” Mrs Reynolds instructed.
Darcy opened the doors and began moving bottles until every one with a label written by Elizabeth was gathered on a shelf. He liked her handwriting: clear, legible, simple, feminine to be sure, yet precise.
Mrs Reynolds watched him touching the things Elizabeth had touched. The housekeeper cleared her throat. “Mr Darcy, Miss Elizabeth said some things that indicate she believes, because of her family’s troubles, that she will not be coming back to Pemberley. I do not know what those troubles are, but they are nothing to us, are they?”
Darcy smiled and shook his head. “No, Mrs Reynolds, they are nothing to us. Nothing can change that I love her and that she will be an ideal mistress for Pemberley.”
“Then, with all due respect, Mr Darcy, may I suggest, if she will not come back here to you, go where she is and convince her.”
Darcy started to laugh. “It appears you share the prevailing wisdom on the matter, Mrs Reynolds. I am for London tomorrow to see if I can assist her family from there, then I shall go to Netherfield, and I shall stay in the neighbourhood until she is convinced. I will not return without her. The next time you see Miss Elizabeth Bennet, she will be Mrs Elizabeth Darcy. Will that suit?”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
* * *
Darcy and Georgiana took their dinner in the stillroom that evening. “I hope you do not mind all the scents, Georgie. She was happy in this room; therefore, so am I, or as happy as I can be…”
“…Under the circumstances. Yes, I know. Now what is this piffle about your going to town without me? I may be of some assistance, you know.”
“I told Elizabeth you have my permission to correspond with her, and it suits my purpose that she receive a letter or two from Pemberley. Let her think, for a fortnight, that we are both here. Then, when Mrs Annesley has returned, come to London in time for your birthday. I would not have you turn seventeen without me.”
“Why so secret, Brother?”
“To raise the hopes of Elizabeth and her family
, and perhaps fail, would be devastating, both to them and to myself. And if I succeed, although I am not sure what form success will take, exactly, I would not have Elizabeth accept me on the pretext of gratitude. If her family were to know they are under some obligation to me, they might push her into a marriage she would not otherwise choose.”
“But she loves you! We have ample proof. I shall invite her to return for a nice long visit once the present storm has passed. Every report I hear of you says you are seen to much better advantage here than in Hertfordshire.”
“What about inviting her to Darcy House once you are there?”
Georgiana brightened. “An excellent plan. I shall find some pretext for being in London and send her an invitation. I shall write the first letter tonight, so you can have a look at it in the morning before you leave.”
“I intend to leave very early; it will interfere with your beauty sleep,” he warned. Darcy often chided his sister for sleeping later than he thought seemly.
“In matters of the heart, especially my dear brother’s heart, I am happy to sacrifice a little sleep and a good deal more if need be.” Georgiana smiled coaxingly at her brother, and he at last reluctantly smiled in return. “Elizabeth told me she finds your smile charming. ‘Irresistible’ is, I believe, the exact word she used. I cannot think why. But you will do well to remember it as an asset.”
“Dear gosling. You always have the knack for turning happy information into a backhanded compliment. You need not worry. Elizabeth has taught me not to be vain.” He paused, becoming wistful. “You know, she did once tell me she admired my smile, but she had never complimented me before, and I took it for teasing.”
“You do so often deserve to be teased that I can understand your confusion.”
Darcy gave Georgiana his best grumpy-brother look, but it was no longer taken as censure. She laughed at him as Elizabeth had taught her to do.
From Pemberley
Dear Elizabeth,
Pemberley is not the same with you gone away. Everything seems subdued and muffled, even the birdsong by the lake. My brother is dismal company, and I await the return of Mrs Annesley in a few days for a change of conversation and lively companionship.
The Red Chrysanthemum Page 18
