by Leenie Brown
Darcy nudged his horse forward. “I do not want to be examined in the home of a stranger,” Darcy called after him. “How is that wrong?”
Bingley said nothing. He just galloped away.
“Blasted leaves,” Darcy muttered as he urged his horse to go faster while concentrating on keeping his foot from getting jostled too much.
~*~*~
Darcy leaned back on propped up pillows and looked around his room – the room in which he would pass many hours over the next day or two. The surgeon had assured him that the ankle was only sprained and with a few days of rest would be well on its way back to full strength.
“Your writing things, sir.” Darcy’s valet placed a small desk on the bed.
Darcy placed it across his legs and unfolded the slope before sliding the drawer that ran the length of the top open and preparing his pen and ink for writing. Withdrawing a sheet of paper from its drawer, he began his letter to his cousin.
He had half a mind to tell his man to prepare for travel and be gone from here, but his conscience would not allow him to forget his promise to his friend. He blew out an exasperated breath. He also could not drive from his mind the face of Elizabeth Bennet.
He paused in his writing. She had been correct. His foot had swollen a good deal before he had gotten to Netherfield. In fact, he had considered stopping at Longbourn so that he could remove his boot. Thankfully, his valet had been insistent that it could be pulled from his person rather than cut. It had not been a pleasant extraction, but the boot had been saved.
“Mr. Darcy.”
His man was back.
“Miss Bingley is without and would like to know if there is anything you require. She has even volunteered to read to you if needed.”
Darcy’s brows raised. Bingley must be more than a trifle angry at him, or Caroline would never have made it so far as his door. He shook his head.
“I am certain you can procure whatever might be needed, and as I have not injured my eyes or my head, I am capable of reading to myself.”
“I shall tell her, sir.”
“I will, however, be in need of having my meals brought up on a tray,” he called after his man, and then turned his attention back to his letter. He disliked using only half a sheet, but there was not much to tell his cousin. He had shared that the ladies at Longbourn were as beautiful as they were fabled to be, that he had injured his ankle, that Netherfield seemed a fine, solid house, and that he had reason to believe the younger Mr. Bennet was an associate of Wickham. He followed that assertion with his request for information about which militia Wickham had joined. That was all that was needed. Therefore, whether half a sheet of words or a full sheet written twice over, this paper was going to be folded and sent.
Darcy secured all of his supplies in his desk and moved it to the side of the bed. He would have his man see that letter sent express as soon as possible. With a sigh, he picked up the book he had been reading from the table next to the bed.
“Blasted leaves,” he muttered as he prepared to pass a few of the long, lonely hours before him with some poetry.
Chapter 9
Jane glared at Elizabeth from across the sitting room. She had not spoken one word to her since they left the wood. Jane was not one to raise her voice and allow her anger to spill forth in unguarded words when she was put out. No. She usually became a wall of silence – firm and impenetrable until she was prepared to have a discussion with whoever had offended her.
Such silence accompanied by that glare was more than Elizabeth’s guilt-ridden heart could withstand. She very much disliked it when Jane was angry with her. She needed to right the wrong that stood between them. However, she knew Jane would not air her grievances in front of their mother and sisters. Therefore, Elizabeth rose from her place and returned her stitching to the basket on the table. “I am going for a walk in the garden.” She looked at Jane. “Would you like to join me?’
The eyebrow over Jane’s left eye arched.
“Please,” Elizabeth said softly.
“She has had too much sun as it is,” Mrs. Bennet declared. “We cannot risk her turning brown.”
“Please,” Elizabeth mouthed.
Jane’s eyes narrowed, and her lips pursed before she sighed. “I will wear my wide-brimmed bonnet,” Jane assured her mother. “The one I wear to tend the flowers.”
“Just the same, stay in the shade as much as possible,” their mother called after them. “A gentleman does not want a wife who looks as if she had been put to sea.”
Jane took her hat from the hook on the wall near the door at the rear of the house.
“Forgive me,” Elizabeth said as soon as their feet had reached the garden path. “I should not have argued.”
“No, you should not have,” Jane agreed. “When will you learn to hold your tongue?”
Elizabeth sighed. “Not soon enough, I am afraid.”
Gaining Jane’s forgiveness was only the first step in setting things to right. Elizabeth knew she also needed to speak to William, whom she had seen circling the garden from the window in the sitting room. While Jane might offer her forgiveness — grudgingly though it currently appeared to be — forgiveness between sisters was not enough to undo the wrong that Elizabeth’s propensity to argue had created.
“Let me talk to William. There must be something we can do to fix this mess I have created. Mr. Darcy’s response to my insistence was not so very unusual. I am certain any gentleman would have been less than polite when his foot was injured. I should have considered that.”
Jane wrapped her arm around Elizabeth’s, a sure sign that her anger was fading. “I cannot believe William wishes to cut ties with both Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley over a few cross words.”
“I do not believe he truly will once he has had time for his anger to cool,” Elizabeth said hopefully.
“He is very protective of us,” Jane cautioned. “He may not change his mind.”
It was a possibility that Elizabeth had considered. William could be stubborn to a fault at times, especially when it came to family and how they should be treated. While it was an endearing trait of his that he cared so much for his sisters, there were moments when it did become a hindrance – such as now.
“Even if he does not change his mind,” Elizabeth assured Jane, “I will find a way for you to see Mr. Bingley, even if I have to walk to Netherfield myself and apologize to Mr. Darcy.”
“You would do that for me?”
Elizabeth nodded. “I would do just about anything for you, my dear sister, even humiliating myself by begging forgiveness from a gentleman who should be seeking it from me.”
Jane laughed lightly. “You are too good.”
“I am not, and you know it. That is why our brother is stomping around the garden. Be careful of the rose bushes,” she called to William, who was swatting at the trees and bushes with his walking stick as he moved along the path.
“I would not dare harm them,” William called back. “And, I am not going to change my mind, Lizzy.” He straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin. “No matter how pathetic Jane might attempt to look. Those gentlemen are not the sort that deserve my sisters.”
“Everyone spits an angry word at one time or another,” Elizabeth replied as they approached him. “And I am very good at provoking such words.” She smiled at William.
He sighed and shook his head. “You are a proficient at it, but it is more than that. They are just not the sort of gentlemen with whom I would like to see my sisters.”
Oh! He was infuriating at times!
“What is it then?” Elizabeth asked. “You cannot just declare someone unfit to marry without reason. You know I will not just accept your decree without proof.”
William scowled at the veracity of such a statement.
“You have not liked Mr. Darcy since you heard his name,” Elizabeth continued. “You were cautious about him as if you knew something about him when discussing it with Father at dinner on the day
we met them. Yet, Lydia has not found anything unflattering in the papers tied to his name, so what is it that you are not saying?”
William held Elizabeth’s gaze for a long, silent, stubborn minute. “Very well,” he finally said. “I have heard that he is not as he appears, but gossip is not right.”
“Neither is sending away a perfectly amiable and handsome gentleman, whom I like very much, for no apparent reason,” Jane said firmly. “I do not wish to die a beautiful spinster, William – at least, not without knowing why it must be so.”
William handed her his handkerchief. “There is no need for tears.”
“There is when you are three and twenty and not allowed to marry anyone!” Jane cried with a stamp of her foot – a rare display of temper for her.
William turned away from them, walking three paces forward and then returning. That he did not wish to say anything was evident in his every feature, yet he could not look at Jane dabbing her eyes with his handkerchief without shaking his head and beginning an explanation. “Mr. Darcy was supposed to install his father’s godson as the rector of a valuable living. It was written in his father’s will. Yet, when the position fell open, Mr. Darcy refused to do as his father had instructed, and now, because Mr. Darcy is an arrogant – ” he cleared his throat, “man…”
Elizabeth was certain that was not the word William had wanted to use.
“…there is a man who is having to shift his way through the world when he should be preaching sermons and stirring the fire in the hearth of his parsonage.”
“Could there not be a reason for Mr. Darcy’s refusal?” Elizabeth asked.
William turned toward her. “This same man told me Mr. Darcy is betrothed, and yet, today, when I asked him, he denied it.”
“Perhaps because he is not betrothed,” Elizabeth argued. It was very unusual for William to believe one person over another so adamantly. Had he even paused to consider that Mr. Darcy might know more about his being betrothed than someone else? Whatever other bits of information William had heard about Mr. Darcy must be colouring his judgment.
“You are very argumentative, Lizzy Bennet,” William spat.
“Only when I am speaking to those who are refusing to use the good sense the Lord gave them!”
“No, not only then. Any time you think you are right – which is nearly always.” William crossed his arms and glared at her.
Elizabeth pulled herself straight. Was there no one who was willing to sort this thing out? How difficult could it be to set things to right? “You will not discover the truth for your sister?” She motioned to Jane.
“I know the truth, and it is that Mr. Darcy is a cold man and any friend of his is not to be trusted.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes and huffed. He only knew what he thought was the truth. Truly, William could be as stubborn and set in his ways as their mother! “One angry exchange? Is that all the evidence you have?”
William did not reply.
“I thought so.” She held his gaze. He could glare at her as long as he liked. She would not be driven away by a look of displeasure when she knew she was right, and he needed to reconsider his position.
“I did not say Mr. Bingley could not call,” he finally said.
“No, but you will likely sway Papa, and then what does it matter. I shall die an old maid.” Jane wiped her eyes once again as she looked upward in an attempt not to let any more tears fall.
“You will not,” Elizabeth said, wrapping an arm around Jane’s shoulders. “I will not allow it to happen.”
“And I shall not say a word to Father unless asked,” William added. Tears from any of his sisters were his weakness. “At least, I will not say a word about Mr. Bingley that is. I may tell him about Mr. Darcy.”
Elizabeth arched a brow.
“He is not what you think he is. I have only told you a portion,” William replied.
“And who is this gentleman who has told you these things? Is he a man of high morals? Is his reputation so far beyond reproach that you would risk our sister’s happiness?” Elizabeth could not say why she was so determined to hold to the idea that William was wrong about Mr. Darcy. Perhaps it was because Mr. Darcy was handsome, or perhaps it was because his eyes had spoken of sincerity when they had first met. She had seen the way he pondered things before speaking. He was not a gentleman to act brashly. There must be some other explanation for the living not to be bestowed as intended. There just must be.
“Mr. Darcy’s actions today confirm the truth of what I have heard,” William retorted.
Elizabeth shook her head. Mr. Darcy had spoken crossly, but that did not mean he was always cross or cold. However, she knew that trying to reason with William just now was likely futile. Therefore, with an “if you say so” that clearly spoke of her disbelief, she and Jane left him and completed their turn of the garden before returning to the house – Jane to her room where she could wallow in misery undisturbed, and Elizabeth to her father’s study.
~*~*~
“My Lizzy,” he greeted her with a smile as she entered. “How might I be of service?”
Elizabeth settled into one of a pair of leather chairs in front of his desk. “I was wondering. Is it possible for a will to be ignored?”
“What do you mean?” Her father leaned forward. “Are you planning to contest my will?”
There was a teasing turn to his lips.
“Of course not!” Elizabeth replied. “I was just wondering about if someone were to leave, say, a set of dishes to his friend’s niece and upon this someone’s demise, the heir read the will but did not like this friend or his niece. Could he refuse to give the dishes to the niece?”
“Does the niece know about the bequeathing of the dishes?”
Elizabeth nodded.
“Then, I believe, she, or the agent acting on her behalf, would have grounds to protest, and the will would need to be executed as written. A will is a binding legal document. What it says must be carried out.”
That was exactly what Elizabeth had thought. She only wished to be assured that she was thinking correctly.
“Was there anything else?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Then may I ask why you are inquiring after wills?”
Elizabeth had known he would be curious about that. “William and I were having a discussion about someone who has not done as instructed by his father’s will, and I was certain that the will would have to be followed.”
“Did he not give someone a set of dishes?” Her father’s lips were still curled in amusement.
“No, it was a valuable living.”
Her father’s eyebrows rose, and his expression became serious. “Was a protest launched on this gentleman’s behalf?’
Elizabeth scowled. She should have thought to ask William that. “I do not know.”
Mr. Bennet leaned back. “If no protest was mounted, then I would be asking why it was not.”
“Do you mean there could be a reason for the court to deny the gentleman his inheritance?” Again, she chided herself for not having thought of that in time to make mention of it to William.
“Why else would someone not attempt to gain what was rightfully his?” her father asked.
“I do not know,” she answered honestly. There had to be a reason both for why Mr. Darcy had not given that man, whoever it was, the living and for why the man had not pursued the matter through the courts of law. Who would walk away from something that would provide him with the means to live, and quite comfortably, without at least attempting to pursue the matter in court? Of course, William had not said the case had not been taken to court, but if it had been and this man had not been installed in the living, then it would mean he had been denied by the court for some reason.
“It is then possible for a court to rule against a man attempting to claim his inheritance?” she asked.
“If there are conditions which must be met,” her father replied.
“It is all ve
ry interesting and complex,” Elizabeth muttered.
“Indeed, it is. That is why your uncle enjoys his work as he does. There is much to study, and your uncle has a keen wit, even if his wife does not.”
Elizabeth chuckled.
“Of course, I should not jest but merely be thankful that a gentleman’s intelligence is not judged by that of his wife.”
“Papa!”
He winked at her. “I did not say I did not love your mother. However, she does drive me to distraction at times.” He picked up the book he had discarded on his desk when Elizabeth had entered his study. “Was there anything else?”
“No, Papa. I think I know all I need to know.”
“Was William right or wrong?” Her father called to her before she could close the door.
She poked her head around the door. “He was wrong, Papa.” Very, very wrong.
Chapter 10
“Hurry,” Elizabeth called to Jane as they walked out early on the Monday morning after the incident in the woods. “I do not wish to miss seeing Mr. Bingley go to the stables.”
“Why could we not just go riding where you say he went on Saturday?” Jane called back.
“Because,” Elizabeth stopped and waited for Jane to catch up with her, “Mr. Bingley might not take the same path every single day, and if we were to request our horses, we would likely have to explain to William why we did not wish to ride with him.”
“Will he not think it strange for us to be walking in the field?”
“He will not ride in the field today. He has gone to Meryton to see the blacksmith.”
“Then I do not understand why we could not ride. It is not like we would be interested in visiting the blacksmith,” Jane retorted.
She had a point. William would not expect them to join him on such an errand. When she was young, Elizabeth had enjoyed going to the blacksmith shop with her father and brother to see the fire and the glowing metal. However, she had long ago outgrown such a fascination.
“I thought it best to avoid William altogether,” Elizabeth said. “Mr. Bingley has not yet called at Longbourn, and it is William’s fault.”
