“That sounds just the thing. I pray you, direct me where to go.” She paused a fraction of a second before pointing him in the right direction.
***
The first few moments passed in silence as they negotiated the steep and muddy descent to the path. Mr. Darcy was quite unnecessarily solicitous of Elizabeth’s well-being, taking her hand for every rough spot. Ordinarily she would protest; she had made the descent unaided a hundred times. But for a moment she enjoyed the sense that someone wanted to take care of her, however fleeting it might be.
Once they were at the base of the incline, the path was dry and level. The shallow, fast-running stream was framed on both banks by trees and undergrowth that was just now bursting into life. Everywhere, the world was clad in the bright yellowish-green of spring foliage.
“This is thoroughly delightful,” Mr. Darcy remarked, surveying the leafy streambed. “The forests of Canada are quite magnificent, but English woods have their own charms.”
“To be sure,” Elizabeth agreed. “I particularly treasure this walk at this time of year.”
Silence fell as they meandered along the path hugging the streambed. Mr. Darcy had made a point of seeking her company; surely he must have something specific to discuss. But long minutes passed where he only took pleasure in the scenery.
“So, tell me, Mr. Darcy,” she said finally. “What sort of business brings you to Meryton? It must be something particular to bring you to such a remote location so soon after returning from your voyage.”
His body stiffened slightly. She had broken the unwritten rule that a gentleman’s “business” must never be questioned. It was always a private affair that was rarely discussed, and then only at the gentleman’s instigation. Jane would have been horrified at Elizabeth’s ill manners, but her sister was not present to help rein in her more impertinent impulses.
“Indeed. It is something very particular.” Mr. Darcy cleared his throat. “And it concerns you.”
Elizabeth could not conceal her shock. “Me?”
“Well, your family,” he corrected. “I wish to—I must—make amends…”
Had Mr. Darcy’s conversation always been so confounding? “I am not aware that you have done us any harm.”
His face was grim. “I have. You are simply unaware of my role. It is not my actions, but my inactions that did the damage.”
Elizabeth frowned at him, unable to imagine what he meant. Did he believe he could have somehow stopped her father from dying or prevented Collins from inheriting Longbourn?
“You are aware that Wickham was a childhood friend of mine?” Mr. Darcy asked.
She nodded, hating the sound of that man’s name, although she was under no illusions that Mr. Darcy remained ignorant of Lydia’s sad story. After Wickham led Lydia to ruin, Elizabeth had reconsidered all her interactions with the man. The process had uncovered many lies, and she assumed that much of what he had told her was untrue. This had deepened her negative opinion of Mr. Darcy, perhaps unfairly. It was only fair to give him the benefit of the doubt now.
The man’s face was so still it might have been etched in stone. “Wickham did my family several bad turns, the worst of which was seducing my sister and persuading her to elope with him.” Elizabeth gasped, but he continued his calm recitation. “Naturally, he did not love her but only pursued her dowry.”
“I did not realize it was a habit with him,” she said darkly.
Mr. Darcy grimaced. “Nor did I.”
Elizabeth was ashamed to realize that she had continued to believe the accusations against Mr. Darcy even after Mr. Wickham had proven himself to be a scoundrel and a liar. With every reason to distrust Mr. Wickham’s words, she had persisted in viewing him as a proud, difficult man who had cheated Mr. Wickham of his inheritance. She had done Mr. Darcy a disservice.
“I knew his untrustworthy nature when I arrived at Meryton,” Mr. Darcy continued. “But I believed it was beneath me to relate such stories. I did not want to gossip.” The expression on his face suggested disgust with his previous behavior. “I could have warned the good people of Meryton and alerted Wickham’s commanding officer. I could have relayed a word of caution to your father. But I did not.”
His expression was so dejected that Elizabeth was compelled to make an attempt to lighten his spirits. “You had no reason to believe he would be a danger to a girl with no fortune to speak of.”
He shook his head, staring at the stream. “If your father had been forewarned—or Colonel Forster…”
“I believe you take too much upon yourself, sir! Lydia made her own choices.”
Mr. Darcy shook his head. “She was dealing with a master of deceit and immorality. She had no real chance of escaping his clutches.”
Elizabeth bit her lip. “There are many things that might have altered the past. My father blamed himself for allowing Lydia to visit Brighton. I blamed myself for not arguing more forcefully against the trip. Even Jane regrets that she did not express her misgivings about Lydia’s behavior. I have come to the conclusion that in such situations a good memory is a hindrance to happiness.”
This drew a chuckle from him. “Perhaps.” His expression sobered. “But I have reason to believe that he singled out your family because of your association with me.”
Elizabeth stumbled over a rock in the path, and Mr. Darcy caught her arm, preventing her from falling. “Why would he think—? We are barely acquainted!”
He gave her a strange look but then said, “Wickham may have presumed a greater degree of acquaintance than we actually possessed.”
Elizabeth stared at the trunks of the trees behind Mr. Darcy, attempting to map this information onto the events of two years ago. The only time she had seen Mr. Darcy and Mr. Wickham in the same place had been on the street in Meryton when the two men had not spoken. But she did recall Mr. Wickham paying particular attention to the other man’s behavior. Had he assumed an attachment to the Bennet family that did not exist? Perhaps he speculated that Mr. Darcy was interested in Jane?
“Possibly,” she said finally. “But that still does not make you culpable for Mr. Wickham’s actions.”
He took a step toward her, grabbing her elbows as if he needed to command her attention. “Eliz—Miss Elizabeth, it is all my fault! All of it! Do you not understand?”
She retreated backward a half step, a bit alarmed at his sudden vehemence.
“If I had laid Wickham’s character bare in Meryton, then Lydia would have been protected,” Mr. Darcy continued. “Her actions would not have harmed your family’s reputation or hastened your father’s death.”
“Perhaps. Or perhaps you underestimate the degree of Lydia’s foolishness or my father’s indulgence.”
He dismissed this with a wave of his hand. “If I had acted, you might not be living under Collins’s thumb, forced to labor in your own home.” She could not miss his glance toward the callouses on her hands. She should not be astonished that he had deduced the truth of their source; he was a clever man.
But Elizabeth bristled. “I am not ashamed to work. I am taking care of my family.”
“Of course. Your concern for your family does you credit. But it should be unnecessary!” He stared down at his boots, breathing rapidly. When he glanced up again, his expression was determined. “I want to help your family.”
She shook her head. “I appreciate the offer, but—”
He interrupted. “I need to help. Let me make amends—for my sake, if not for yours.”
Now that was an argument she had difficulty rejecting. For a moment Elizabeth was frozen, staring at Mr. Darcy, unable to respond. Who was this man? She barely recognized him. The Mr. Darcy she remembered could be polite—even witty—but she had glimpsed little genuine emotion from him. In truth, she would have listed pride in his family name as his strongest emotion. But here he stood, confessing his guilt and regret—and professing a seemingly earnest desire to ameliorate her family’s situation.
The abrupt s
hift in perspective left her dizzy and disoriented. Searching for a place to sit, she found a large, mostly flat boulder by the side of the path. Not caring anymore about dirt on her gown, she sank onto it.
“Please allow me to help your family,” Mr. Darcy pleaded, as if she would be doing him a great favor. She had never imagined the Bennets could give anything to a man such as Mr. Darcy.
“I am rather at a loss to think what you might do,” she confessed. “Although I would be grateful if you could lend help to my Uncle Gardiner in his search for Lydia. He has expended significant time and money to no avail.” Elizabeth clasped her hands together, willing them not to tremble. Unable to help her youngest sister, she had scarcely allowed herself to think about Lydia over the past months.
Mr. Darcy lowered himself to a nearby boulder and took one of her hands in his. “I already have agents searching for her. Do you have any ideas where your sister might be found? Once she is located, I will do what I can to improve her situation.”
Elizabeth stared at the man blankly. The words barely made sense. For so long she had lived without hope, receiving nothing but condemnation from those who learned of her sister’s actions. After her father’s death, only the Gardiners had tried to find Lydia, and their resources were limited.
Mrs. Bennet and her daughters had begged Collins to search for Lydia or send Elizabeth to London so she might do so, but he had refused every entreaty, saying that Longbourn should not bear the expense and inconvenience for the girl’s foolish actions. In a fit of impatience, he had even told Elizabeth, “If the girl knows what is best, she will have the good sense to die in the gutter.” Elizabeth knew she should love her cousin, but for that statement alone she believed she might never experience more than indifference toward the man’s well-being.
At first Elizabeth had husbanded money for her own trip to London so she might seek out Lydia, but it quickly became apparent that Longbourn’s inhabitants needed her constant presence. And it was true that she would not know where to start such a search.
Now Mr. Darcy dangled the possibility that Lydia might be helped after all. It just required the right person—a person with will and means that had not been previously available.
Apparently her silence worried Mr. Darcy, for he resumed talking at a rather frantic pace. “I could pay Wickham to marry her. Or if that does not suit, perhaps an establishment in the country with a companion. Naturally, I will also undertake the costs if there…is a child.”
This was generous beyond Elizabeth’s wildest imaginings. She had long ago acknowledged that Lydia could never return to Longbourn, but the idea that they would know their younger sister was safe and well…that would be such a relief to the entire family, a gift beyond imagining. “That is a most generous offer, Mr. D—”
To her horror, Elizabeth broke down. Tears flowed down her face, and sobs wracked her body. She ducked her head, but there could be no disguising what was happening. Why did it have to be now? In front of this man? She had not shed a single tear since her father’s death, remaining stoic through all their grief and suffering. She had provided a shoulder so that her mother and sisters might unburden their unhappiness. And now…
Why must I cry now—when I have received the first good news in months? When I am faced with an unexpected kindness? Foolish tears!
She ordered herself to cease blubbering at once, but her body did not obey. A handkerchief was thrust into her hand. Crumpling it in her fist, she dabbed her eyes and dried her cheeks. Mr. Darcy was so proper and contained. How mortified he must be to witness this sudden outpouring of emotion! This was far worse than breaking down in Jane’s or Mary’s company.
But then warm arms embraced her, supportive and soothing. Long and powerful, these arms would never be mistaken for Jane’s or her mother’s. They pulled her against Mr. Darcy’s chest. She stiffened for a moment; this was so inappropriate. What if someone should happen upon them?
But, oh, it felt divine to lean on someone else for just a moment. The soft fabric of his waistcoat pressed into her cheek, and she inhaled his subtle masculine scent, musk and sandalwood. I would never grow tired of that scent. She indulged in another long inhale.
I should pull away. But the mere sensation of another’s touch was remarkably comforting, reminding her that she was not alone. He merely held her, not taking advantage or doing anything untoward. She could not prevent her body from relaxing against his.
Surely he would grow weary of sitting on a dirty rock, but he did not complain or even squirm. He held her gently and carefully until her sobs subsided and her eyes dried. Elizabeth would have been happy to sit thus forever.
Public, she reminded herself. Inappropriate. Reputation. Moreover: Mr. Darcy!
This last thought prompted her to pull away from him with a jerk. He released her readily enough but did not move, maintaining a steady, compassionate contemplation of her face. She wiped her eyes with his handkerchief, which would require laundering before returning it to him.
“I-I apologize for my inappropriate behavior,” he said solemnly.
She managed a shaky shrug. “There is nothing to apologize for. Friends should comfort one another.” She retreated even further, curling her arms back against her body. “I apologize as well. I am not usually such a watering pot.”
Mr. Darcy stood, brushing the dirt from the seat of his breeches. Feeling vulnerable, she stood slowly to ensure that weak legs would hold her.
He regarded her rather quizzically. “I would imagine not. You are obviously serving as your family’s rock.”
How had Mr. Darcy guessed that so readily? His tender expression completely disarmed her. Tears threatened again, and Elizabeth had to quickly avert her eyes.
He was silent for a long moment as Elizabeth collected herself. Then he cleared his throat. “Do you have any idea where we should search for her?”
Elizabeth swallowed and turned back to face him. He knows your face is tear-streaked. There is no sense in hiding it. “No. After Mr. Wickham…abandoned Lydia, she lived for a few weeks with my Aunt and Uncle Gardiner at their house in Cheapside. But she chafed at their restrictions and was certain that Mr. Wickham would return for her. One day she wrote a note saying that she was going to seek him—and disappeared. My uncle’s agent was able to trace her to a lodging house in an…unpleasant part of London.”
She had been a barmaid, but Mr. Darcy did not need that information. “But she was gone by then. The innkeeper said she spoke of traveling to Brighton, but my uncle found no sign of her there.”
Mr. Darcy nodded solemnly. “If you can give me your uncle’s direction, I will have my man seek him out so they might share their knowledge.”
“Thank you. You are most kind.”
“It is the least I must do.”
Elizabeth scrutinized the path. She had recovered sufficiently that she was now equal to returning to Meryton. Hopefully, her eyes were not too terribly red.
But Mr. Darcy appeared to have little interest in departing. He took one of her hands in both of his, drawing her to face him. “But I must do more for your family than that. Being of assistance to Miss Lydia is wholly inadequate.” No doubt he could feel the callouses and work-roughened skin of her hand. She should withdraw it, but she did not want to appear to reject him. Or was she fooling herself? Perhaps the real reason was that she took pleasure in the illicit sensations.
“We cannot possibly accept any further assistance,” she said. “It would not be proper. Nor is it necessary. My sisters, mother, and I are all faring quite well—as you see.” His expression was full of skepticism. “You know we can accept nothing from you.”
Lydia had little remaining reputation to protect; it mattered not if Mr. Darcy gave her help. But the Bennet women could not be seen receiving assistance from an unrelated gentleman; it would give rise to all sorts of rumors and speculation.
“Are any of your sisters being courted?” he asked. “Perhaps if any of you visited London, I might…in
troduce you to young men of my acquaintance.”
Was he offering to facilitate introductions to wealthy young men? Elizabeth’s eyebrows rose. This was the same man who believed her family was barely worthy of associating with. Was there some substance in the Canadian water that made people nicer? “I thank you for the offer,” she said. “Perhaps if Jane or Kitty were to visit the Gardiners, they might call on you and your sister.”
He dropped her hand. “But not you or Miss Mary?”
“Neither Mary nor I have any intention of marrying,” she said.
Now he seemed positively alarmed. “Not marry? But why?”
She glowered at him. “Surely, sir, that is a deeply personal question.”
“Of course. Forgive me.” He glanced away from her, swiping hair from his eyes in an agitated move.
What had possessed her to tell Mr. Darcy such a thing? She had not even revealed her intentions to Jane.
He appeared about to reach out for her again but then clasped his hands resolutely behind his back. “I am sure there must be some small service I may render to your family.” His expression was so earnest that Elizabeth had no doubt of the sincerity of his request, but she was struck by the absurdity of such a man asking her for a favor.
She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Hmm… At the moment I do not need any minotaurs slain, and we seem to face a shortage of menacing lions in Meryton…”
His lips quirked in a smile. “Perhaps if I linger long enough, a monster will happen along to threaten Longbourn.”
Jests aside, Mr. Darcy did rather strike Elizabeth as a Greek hero, determined to prove himself worthy of a maiden’s love. Absurdly she was charmed by the picture of him wearing a toga. But it is all foolishness, she realized in the next moment. He has no interest in me; he only wishes to be of service to my family.
“I will think on the matter,” she promised. Of course, the ideal solution would be to ask for his assistance with the scheme to improve Longbourn’s agriculture. She could think of any number of ways he could give advice or provide material assistance without anyone being the wiser. But she dared not share their secret enterprise with him. She did not know if they were breaking any laws, but their behavior was certainly improper. Mr. Darcy was unlikely to regard it with civility.
Rebellion at Longbourn Page 10
