Rebellion at Longbourn

by Victoria Kincaid

  That name conjured a host of memories for Elizabeth. “Did he accompany you?” she inquired hopefully.

  Mr. Darcy cleared his throat. “Unfortunately, no. He had some urgent business in the north.”

  I wonder if that business includes marrying a woman more acceptable than Jane, but it is not my affair.

  Miss Darcy lifted her chin as if steeling herself to speak even as her hands nervously clenched fistfuls of her skirt. “My brother informs me that you are fond of walking. I am as well…fond of walking, that is. I was hoping…if you do not mind…if it is not too much trouble…would you show me some of the walks…the better walks in the neighborhood?”

  Elizabeth blinked at this unexpected request.

  “If it is too great an imposition—” Miss Darcy started to say.

  “Not at all,” Elizabeth assured her quickly. “I dearly love to walk and can rarely find a ready companion. If the weather proves fair, perhaps we might meet at Netherfield tomorrow morning for a stroll?”

  A smile spread over Miss Darcy’s face, rendering it even more beautiful. “That would be lovely.”

  Mr. Darcy, too, was grinning in a most uncharacteristic manner, perplexing Elizabeth exceedingly. Did it mean so much to him that his sister acquaint herself with the people of Meryton? “Miss Bennet, I would like to solicit your hand for the next set of dances, but my sister is not acquainted with anyone present, and I would not leave her alone…”

  “Is she in want of a partner?”

  Miss Darcy’s eyes widened as if Elizabeth had suggested she might become an opera dancer. “Not at all,” her brother said hastily. “That is, she is not yet out. According to strict rules of propriety she should not attend the ball at all, but I did not want to leave her alone at Netherfield during our first night.”

  That begged the question of why Mr. Darcy had brought his sister to Hertfordshire at all. They had just completed a long voyage; surely a visit to Hertfordshire could not be their most pressing priority. But Elizabeth certainly could not ask such an impertinent question.

  Fortunately, Elizabeth had a ready solution to Mr. Darcy’s conundrum. She threw a quick glance over her shoulder.

  “Miss Darcy, please allow me to introduce you to my sister, Kitty. I am certain she will be most pleased to keep you company while we dance.”

  Elizabeth led the Darcys over to where Kitty was conversing with Maria Lucas. Kitty enjoyed balls and attracted her share of partners, but the Bennet family’s isolation weighed more heavily upon her than it did the others. Elizabeth knew she would relish the company of an elegant girl from London near her age.

  She explained the situation by means of a soft conversation in Kitty’s ear, and her sister immediately comprehended the situation. She accompanied Elizabeth back to where the Darcys stood, exchanging curtsies with both.

  Once the introductions were finished, Kitty took charge immediately. “You must call me Kitty, I beg you! My friend Maria and I were about to stroll in the orangery. Would you join us? I have not seen London in ever so long, and I must know what everyone is wearing!”

  Miss Darcy was a little bemused. “Surely you wish to dance—”

  Kitty leaned forward and confided, “The young men at this ball are trying my patience, I must say. I am sick of them.”

  Miss Darcy giggled at Kitty’s playfully rolled eyes and slowly reached out to take her outstretched hand. Kitty tugged her toward the room’s exit, where Maria was already waiting. Soon the three girls had vanished from sight.

  Mr. Darcy watched his sister disappear with a slight frown. “Will she be all right?”

  “Kitty has high spirits, but she has settled considerably since my father’s death. Added responsibility forces you to mature. Your sister may hear slightly scandalous stories of boys kissing girls, but nothing worse.”

  Mr. Darcy gave her an ironic smile. “I believe Georgiana can cope with that. Very well.” He bowed formally. “Miss Bennet, will you honor me with the next set?”

  Chapter Nine

  Somehow Darcy had known where Elizabeth was from the moment they had entered the ballroom. His eyes had been drawn to her as if she were his lodestar. She was a peacock among pigeons. The blue dress was far more elegant than anything the other women wore, but her appeal exceeded mere clothing. Her dark hair was coiled on her head in a sophisticated style that took advantage of her natural curls. As he crossed the room with Georgiana on his arm, Darcy had been unable to tear his eyes from her neck, where an inky curl laid against her pale throat.

  He was astonished that everyone was not staring at her. How could they ignore such glorious beauty in their midst?

  He congratulated himself and Georgiana on their choices with the gown. They had passed a pleasant afternoon deciding on fabrics and trims for Elizabeth’s dress, and he had hoped he was accurate in recalling her complexion. He had been enchanted with the result, but now he saw the result was beyond his wildest imagining.

  He had to remind himself to breathe.

  She was magnificent. The deep sapphire of the bodice complemented her dark hair, bringing out some of its auburn highlights. The current fashion was for headdresses of feathers and beads, often quite elaborate and tall. But she had eschewed this trend in favor of a simple circlet of gold ribbon that perfectly matched the trim on the gown. Delicate cream slippers with blue shoe roses peeked out from under the hem.

  Her color was high and her lips a dark pink. Surely they would be soft and kissable…

  He had managed some semblance of proper behavior while he introduced Georgiana to Elizabeth, but the events still left him a bit dazed. And then they were alone together, and she had agreed to dance with him.

  He had drifted closer to her without even being aware of moving. Did his mouth hang open? Was he drooling? Darcy only just prevented himself from raising his hand to check. She regarded him with a curious tilt of her head. Did besottedness shine through his eyes?

  He swallowed, attempting to take command of himself. “Miss Elizabeth, you look lovely tonight.”

  Her lips curved in an arch smile. “Thank you. I am most grateful…to your sister.”

  “She did receive your gracious note.”

  “It is a most generous gift.”

  He shrugged. “She found that it did not suit her and did not want it to go to waste.”

  Her eyes twinkled. “I was astonished when I first saw Miss Darcy. I expected that she and I would be almost twins.”

  “Twins?”

  Elizabeth’s lips twitched. “Indeed. A dress made for her fits me like a glove. I thought surely we must be two of a kind.”

  Darcy’s face heated. She knew he had obtained her measurements from Meryton’s dressmaker; there was no other possible explanation, but they could never speak of it. He found her knowing expression rather alluring. There was something quite fascinating about a clever woman.

  “You are about the same height…”

  “Indeed,” Elizabeth murmured.

  Darcy ignored her sally with as much dignity as he could muster. “It suits you admirably.”

  Her expression grew serious. “It is an expensive garment. We should consider any debt you believe you owe to my family entirely paid.”

  Darcy experienced a sensation akin to panic. “No! No, it is not paid at all. This was never intended to be… It is merely a happy accident. Everyone who observes you shall be quite grateful the dress did not suit my sister.”

  She laughed, a musical sound. “You are quite in the mood to flatter tonight, Mr. Darcy. I am beginning to wonder if you have business in Hertfordshire at all. Perhaps you came all this way solely to shower compliments on my head.”

  She was unaware how perilously close she came to the truth. “Not at all. I also arrived with the goal of gaining your consent for a dance.”

  She laughed again. “I will admit to being a fair dancer, but I do not believe my skills are worthy of a journey of thirty miles.”

  “I pray you, allow me to be t
he judge of that.” Even as he responded to her banter, Darcy marveled at himself. I am flirting! Darcy had never flirted before. He always believed he lacked the capacity for it, but perhaps he only needed to find the right woman.

  “Ah, but if my dancing is not what you hope, will you return to London in despair?”

  “I know you will not disappoint me.” These words did not emerge as flirtatious; rather, his seriousness of purpose leaked through.

  Appearing a little nonplussed, Elizabeth averted her gaze. Damnation! The flirting had been going so well, but of course, he had to muck it up. Perhaps he had offended her. “If you would prefer not to dance—”

  Her brows drew together in perplexity. “I am honored to stand up with you. It is scarcely a hardship. Indeed, sir, a dance is scarcely sufficient to demonstrate my gratitude for the gown. You should demand more.”

  Now he was laughing. “You would have me demand your firstborn child?” As soon as the words left his mouth, Darcy realized they were far too provocative.

  His face warmed again; was he destined to forever blush in her presence? She colored a little as well but managed a smile. “You cannot do so; your name is not Rumpelstiltskin.”

  He chuckled in admiration of her quick salvation of an awkward situation.

  The sounds of the orchestra striking up the next set saved him from the necessity of a reply. “Perhaps we should take our places for the next set?” He offered her his arm and led her to the dance floor. Many eyes followed them. Darcy was alternately irritated at the attention and hopeful that this sign of his approval would ease Elizabeth’s social stigma.

  Elizabeth was an accomplished dancer, and it was a joy to stand up with her. She possessed a grace and lightness in her step that he found marvelous, and they were well matched, moving together in great harmony. Both were silent at first, but finally Elizabeth asked, “Do you remember our first dance at Netherfield?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “I told you then that I had difficulty making out your character.”

  “And how do you get on now?” he asked.

  “Not at all,” she said with a laugh as she completed a figure. “Two years ago, I believed I understood, but now I am discovering there is much I did not know. It is most disconcerting.”

  Her tone was arch and teasing, but he discerned a bit of the truth in her words. His current behavior was indeed surprising to her. Was she simply astonished he had skirted propriety by sending her a dress, or had she expected him to cut her family as the rest of society had?

  “I am pleased you are gaining in understanding.”

  She laughed. “Actually, I believe I am merely more confused. You are a most vexing character, sir!”

  “My apologies,” he said, trying to infuse his words with her teasing lightness. “Being an enigma is hardly my intention. I will endeavor to be less inscrutable in the future.”

  “I appreciate the sacrifices you make on my behalf.”

  “There is nothing I would not sacrifice for you.” The words flew from his mouth before he could censor them. Damnation! What will she think?

  Her eyes widened for a moment, but the pert smile immediately returned. “You are fortunate that I am not inclined to test that assertion and ask you to sacrifice something very important—such as the eating of lemon biscuits!”

  They both laughed and then spoke little for the remainder of the set.

  ***

  When the set ended, Mr. Darcy helped Elizabeth navigate the throngs of attendees and quickly darted away to obtain her a glass of punch. He seemed to have no interest in finding another dance partner but was most solicitous of Elizabeth’s amusement. It was a heady sensation—the attention of an attractive, wealthy man at such a glamorous event. I must not allow myself to be overly excited, she chastised herself. He is simply extending every civility because he feels he owes my family a debt.

  Elizabeth had not attended such a festive event for a long time. The experience was bittersweet. She reveled in the sensation of being Miss Bennet of Longbourn again. But she could not forget that tomorrow she would scoop up dead mice and empty dishwater out the back door of the kitchen. An event like this ball only emphasized how completely her life had altered after her father’s death. Before that melancholy event, she had taken for granted that she belonged to this world. Now she felt like an imposter at the ball—an actress playing the part of an elegant lady.

  I am just feeling sorry for myself. That serves no good purpose. Tonight I will simply revel in the ball. She supposed she should leave herself available in case other men wanted to partner her, but she enjoyed Mr. Darcy’s company too much to surrender it. They had exchanged few words since leaving the dance floor, but even his silence was companionable.

  “The room is rather close,” Mr. Darcy remarked. “Would you like to take a turn on the terrace?”

  “That would be lovely.”

  With the merest touch to her elbow, he guided her toward the French doors, which were open so that early spring breezes might cool the ballroom. The terrace was wide and long, lit by torches and the faint glimmer of a rising moon.

  They were not the only ones outside, but people were sparse, and most were involved in their own conversations. Darcy led Elizabeth toward the balustrade where they could take pleasure in a view of the formal gardens in the meager moonlight.

  Elizabeth laid her hand on the rough stone wall, and a moment later Mr. Darcy’s hand was resting right beside it. Although her eyes were fixed on the garden, she was intensely aware of their hands’ proximity. She held her breath. Might he move his finger a few inches to the right so their hands would touch? She could imagine the slide of his skin against hers. Even with something as impersonal as hands, the sensation would feel quite intimate.

  His hand reached out and enclosed hers in a warm, dry grip. She turned up her palm so their fingers might intertwine. As he leaned toward her, his eyes seemed to be asking her a question.

  Will he kiss me? Elizabeth swallowed. She should not allow it, and yet she could not possibly deny him. She wanted to taste his kisses nearly as much as she wanted to breathe.

  Then he frowned and glanced down at her hand.

  “What is it?” she asked softly. Oh. He had run his fingers over the work-hardened callouses on her palm. And he disapproved. Elizabeth tried to withdraw her hand, but he intertwined their fingers and held it in place.

  “Collins should not make you and your sisters work.” His tone was hard and uncompromising.

  Not wanting to argue with Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth kept her voice light. “He does not force us to work. He supports five dependent women when nobody would have faulted him if he had turned us out. Our labor is all we have to offer in exchange.”

  “But you are gentlewomen. You should not have to—”

  She interrupted him. “The work must be completed. With such a large household, there are many tasks that must be done every day and not enough servants to do them.”

  “Because Collins dismissed them.”

  “Yes. I wish he had not done so. They had been with us for many years.”

  “Dismissed them so he might enjoy embroidered waistcoats and a gold watch fob.” Mr. Darcy’s voice dripped with derision.

  “Yes.” She could not disagree with this fundamental unfairness.

  “You do not even like him.”

  She sighed and turned toward the garden. “I had hoped it was not so obvious.”

  “Maybe not to others…to those who do not know you well. But you are too clever and too kind to suffer his idiocy and greed.”

  Elizabeth did not know how to thank him for such a roundabout compliment, so she did not respond.

  “Why do you work for him if you do not like him?” Mr. Darcy asked. “You cannot be pleased with the situation.”

  Elizabeth focused on the still and dark garden below. “I am not. But I am not just working for Mr. Collins. When I make a meal, it feeds my mother and sisters and Charlotte—and even t
he Longbourn staff. I am caring for everyone who lives under that roof.”

  He seemed very struck by her words. He opened his mouth to respond and then closed it again. “Hmm. I had not considered it from such a perspective.” He reached out so his fingers caressed her palm once more. “But still, a lady should not have such callouses and should not be subjected to such harsh work. I will speak with Collins and insist that he hire another maid.”

  She disentangled their fingers, facing him directly. “Mr. Darcy, I do not believe my callouses are anything to be ashamed of.”

  “But a lady—”

  Seizing his hand, Elizabeth turned over his palm. “You have callouses on your hands.”

  “From riding, the reins…”

  “Do you ever help the tenants at Pemberley…in the fields or with the cottages?”

  He lifted his chin. “Occasionally. If they are short-handed in the fields during planting or harvest. Particularly if there is a fire or flood—every person is needed.”

  “And you consult with your steward about crops and planting, you allocate money, and balance the estate’s books.”

  “Yes.” His furrowed brow suggested he did not understand which way her conversation tended.

  “Is that not also work?”

  He frowned. “It is different.”

  “Why?”

  “Because…it…I…because I am the owner of the land.”

  “So, when your steward makes entries in the ledgers, he is working, but if you do so, you are not?”

  “I never…but there is a difference. There is. Between his work and my work.”

  She shrugged. “I used to believe so, but now I am not so sure. I used to think there was women’s work and men’s work. Servant’s work and master’s work. Now I am coming to believe there is just work, and it does not matter who does it.”

  Mr. Darcy drew himself up straight. “You are quite a radical, Miss Bennet!”

  She laughed, a gentle exhale of breath. “I suppose some might use that label. Or perhaps that is the natural result when a gently bred woman takes on labor usually performed by a servant.”