No. I am certain of that. She has taken these actions without thinking of my reaction at all—which itself is disturbing. She had not known he would return to her life, but somehow he had believed he loomed larger in her imagination than apparently he did.
“Of course. I will send word if I learn anything of your sister.” He gave her a slight bow. “Please accept my wishes for your continued good health.” He spun around, pointing his feet toward Netherfield, and willed himself into a quick march. He would not glance back at her, even as he wondered if he would ever see her again.
***
Elizabeth watched Mr. Darcy walk away with an odd sense of loss. I should be pleased, she admonished herself. He is too close to uncovering all my secrets. His words were vague, so she did not know how much of the scheme he had guessed, but it was obviously enough to damn Elizabeth in his eyes.
His disapproval disturbed her more than she would have anticipated. When had his opinion acquired such importance? It was silly; she owed him nothing. Saving Longbourn was everything.
And there was paltry evidence that he cared about Longbourn. Indeed, by the stream, he had spoken very affectingly of his guilt and sense of responsibility. And he had purchased a lovely dress for Elizabeth. But these isolated examples scarcely amounted to much.
Elizabeth might admit privately to herself that she experienced tender feelings for the man, but it did not necessarily follow that he felt anything for her beyond physical attraction. If such was the case, she was definitely well shut of him.
After all, despite his earnest words, Mr. Darcy had done little for the Bennets, and now he was abandoning them at the first sign of difficulty. His principles preceded any of her family’s needs. Or perhaps he had changed his mind, and he was using Elizabeth’s questionable activities as an excuse to escape an uncomfortable obligation.
Well, it scarcely mattered. She did not need his approval of her activities; after all, most people would not approve. If they were commonly known, all of Meryton society would turn against her. She had accepted that risk. Why should Mr. Darcy’s estimation, in particular, disturb her?
Resolutely, Elizabeth pushed him from her mind and set her feet on the path for home.
***
Darcy’s croquet ball went wide of the hoop at the last minute, putting him behind his cousin Richard. “Damn—” Darcy managed to stifle the oath before Georgiana, on the other side of the lawn, heard.
Richard’s head shot up, and he glared at his cousin. “My apologies,” Darcy said, averting his face so Richard would not notice the flush of shame at his unworthy words.
It was the warmest day so far that spring, and Georgiana had been enthusiastic about a friendly game of croquet. Aware that he had not been good company of late, Darcy had acquiesced. Now he wondered if he should have remained in his study rather than inflicting his foul mood on others.
“No,” Richard said in a low voice. “No, you are not excused. That was your third oath this hour.”
Darcy shot a glance at his sister, but she was studiously planning her next move and remained oblivious to their conversation. “I am not playing well today,” he said to his cousin with an unrepentant shrug.
Richard regarded him steadily. “Your language has naught to do with the game.”
“What do you mean?” Darcy growled.
“You are barely heeding the game at all. You might as well be playing tennis.” Darcy scowled at him, but his cousin was unperturbed. “You carried this unease with you from Longbourn.” Richard’s expression softened. “Will you not tell me the cause?”
Darcy straightened his spine. “Nothing is amiss.”
Richard snorted.
Georgiana was crossing the lawn with a quizzical expression. Wonderful. Now they had drawn his sister’s attention. “Why does William scowl at you?” she asked their cousin.
“When do I not scowl at Richard?” Darcy joked.
“I have been asking Will what has him in such a foul mood recently,” their cousin replied.
Georgiana tilted her head to the side in an attitude of polite curiosity. “Oh, have we ceased pretending it does not exist? That is a relief.”
Damnation. I believed I was better at hiding my frustration. Darcy relieved some aggravation by whacking a clump of weeds with his mallet.
“You have been so difficult this week,” she continued.
What had Elizabeth said to Georgiana? His sister was growing bolder by the day.
Richard shook his head. “Now, be fair. It has been longer than a week; he has been agitated since returning from Hertfordshire.” In a fruitless attempt at intimidation, Darcy glared, and his cousin replied with an impish grin.
Georgiana shrugged. “I do not know what the trouble could be. I had a perfectly pleasant time in Hertfordshire, although we departed rather abruptly. I would have liked to see Elizabeth again.”
Darcy resisted the temptation to throw his mallet to the ground and stalk back to the house; he was not a child to throw a fit of temper. “If I am such a bear, it is a wonder you would want to play with me at all,” he growled.
“I was hoping you might tell us the source of your frustration,” Georgiana said in a rather wistful tone.
“Croquet does not have magical powers,” Richard said with a smile.
But her response bothered Darcy. Had his sister been tolerating his black moods and hoping he would confide in her? He believed he had managed to conceal the worst of his ill humor from two of the dearest people in his life, but obviously he had failed miserably.
“My frustration is not your responsibility,” he muttered.
She propped her hands on her hips, a gesture so indignant that Darcy was again reminded that she was no longer a child. “Then whose responsibility is it, pray tell? Who will you confide in? Will you share your troubles with Mrs. Reynolds? Or Mr. Prescott, the gardener?”
He said nothing.
“Come, Will, unburden yourself,” Richard cajoled. “Perhaps we might be of assistance.”
He sighed, sensing his will begin to crumble. “’Tis complicated, and much of it is confidential.”
Richard gestured to Georgiana. “We promise to keep any secrets you tell us.” His sister nodded in enthusiastic agreement.
Darcy did not want to share any of his secrets: his admiration of Elizabeth, his worries about her illicit activities, or the niggling suspicion that perhaps he had made a mistake. He always kept his own counsel, never sharing anything personal. Propriety and his own instincts forbade it.
And yet…absolute silence meant that his insides were being consumed by anxiety. He told himself to forget Elizabeth and her schemes, but thoughts of her haunted him every day.
Perhaps he could describe some of his dilemma without being too specific about his own sentiments. “Very well. I will speak of what weighs on my heart. But not over a game of croquet.”
Mrs. Reynolds had set a pitcher of lemonade and some glasses on a wrought iron table near the croquet lawn. Dropping his mallet where he stood, Darcy stalked to the table. He retained enough manners to pull out a seat for Georgiana and then seated himself as she poured three glasses of lemonade. He drank half his glass in one gulp, wishing it could be something stronger: brandy, perhaps, or whisky.
When he set down his glass, the others were regarding him expectantly. He shifted on the wooden bench, attempting to ignore the hot sunlight beating down on his head and shoulders. He had promised; there was no help for it but to start.
He briefly reviewed the Bennet family’s circumstances, revealing for the first time Wickham’s role in their disgrace and his own sense of responsibility. Then he described the little signs of Elizabeth’s defiance of Collins.
Georgiana was far more sympathetic than appalled. “I imagine that living with such a man would be very trying.”
“I am not unsympathetic,” Darcy said. “However, their cousin could have abandoned them and did not.”
“He is to be commended,” Georgiana agreed. “But su
rely there is a limit to what the Bennet sisters owe him. It cannot be easy to watch your home be possessed by another—particularly someone who has no appreciation for it.”
Darcy had not considered that perspective. He imagined another man entering Pemberley and making himself at home in the study where Darcy’s father had worked or the garden his mother had loved. He shuddered at the picture, but he was a man and it was his property. Did women feel the same—even about homes they were destined to leave when they wed?
Darcy continued his story. Georgiana and Richard listened attentively—without further interruptions—as he described learning about Elizabeth’s subterfuge regarding Mrs. Wiley and Darcy’s conclusions about the lambs and the seed drill. “Collins told me very proudly that his farm was ‘old-fashioned’ and did not experiment with modern methods, and yet I know I saw a seed drill. There was also evidence of the Norfolk four-crop rotation system, a ‘new’ method Aunt Catherine has always opposed.”
Neither Richard nor Georgiana appeared to experience Darcy’s horror when he had made this discovery. They were silent for a long moment at the end of the story. Finally, Georgiana frowned. “So, Miss Elizabeth’s actions benefit the Longbourn estate?”
Darcy rubbed his forehead. This was not the point. “Well, yes. Almost certainly they will have better crop yields and a greater variety of crops to take to market—as well as a larger flock of sheep.”
“Why are you so displeased?” Georgiana asked. Is it not beneficial to everyone?”
“But Collins does not know!” Darcy exploded off the bench, knocking it over. “It is his property, and he remains unaware of what is happening. Nor would he approve!”
Georgiana shared a look of alarm with Richard but continued to speak. “Granted, her actions are…unorthodox, but are they so wrong when they will benefit everyone, including the tenants and Mr. Collins himself?”
Darcy paced along the edge of the croquet lawn, squinting in the bright sunlight. “It is his property!”
“No doubt they tried to convince Collins to take these actions of his own accord,” Richard said.
“No doubt….” Darcy agreed. Elizabeth would not be so rebellious if there were another option.
“I can say, Will, there are times I wish Aunt Catherine’s tenants could farm the land without her interference,” Richard drawled with a grimace. “They would be the better for it. Rosings would be the better for it.”
Darcy did not bother denying that.
“But the law has given Mr. Collins ownership of everything,” Georgiana said, her brows drawing together. “Elizabeth has no legal recourse. Nor do the tenants. They are subject to the whims of an arbitrary and capricious landowner.”
“Can that possibly justify her actions? She is practically stealing from him.” Darcy found himself pacing again with long, agitated strides. The day had grown warmer and his shirt was damp under his jacket, yet he could not bring himself to stand still.
Georgiana tapped a finger to her lips thoughtfully. “I cannot say I find her actions wrong by default; we do not know the circumstances that drove her to take such desperate measures.”
Darcy was losing control of the conversation. “She is breaking the law!”
“You have often told me that sometimes laws are wrong,” Georgiana responded serenely. Instantly Darcy regretted every philosophical conversation with his sister.
“But I thought Elizabeth better than that,” he explained. “I thought she was a woman of principles and order—not someone who achieved her aims through manipulation and deceit.”
He saw a flash of something on Georgiana’s face. Anger? For the first time, his sister’s voice rose. “There is no other way for her to help Longbourn. She has no power, no authority, nobody she can appeal to for help. Do you believe she preferred manipulation and deceit?”
Darcy was a bit taken aback by Georgiana’s vociferousness. What had Elizabeth said to his sister? “No, of course not.”
“And you believe she tried to change her cousin’s mind first?”
“Yes, of course,” Darcy conceded.
“Therefore, this current plan is a last resort—the result of desperation.”
“But she does not have the right—”
Georgiana stood, nearly tipping her bench over. “And who decided that she did not have the right? Who decided that she could not inherit because she is female? This is not a system divinely ordained by God. He created us equal, male and female—with similar rights and responsibilities. And yet men own practically everything, and women own nothing.”
Darcy’s mouth dropped open. Where were these ideas coming from?
“And if a woman marries, the man owns her as well.”
Darcy started to object; of course, a husband did not “own” his wife, but then he reconsidered. Perhaps Georgiana was not completely wrong. Men were never faulted for beating their wives or committing adultery. Wives had a notoriously difficult time obtaining divorces even under circumstances of egregious abuse.
“And yet,” Georgiana continued, with a wide sweep of her arm, “women are expected to marry as if it is their natural state!”
Richard’s expression mirrored Darcy’s alarm. Perhaps they were no longer talking about Elizabeth.
When his eyes returned to Georgiana, she had hunched forward and wrapped her arms around herself. Her eyes sparkled suspiciously.
“Dearest, is something troubling you?” Darcy asked.
Georgiana wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “I have been reading a book….No…” She straightened her back, regarding Darcy like a lion she needed to slay with her sword. “It began long before that…before I spoke with Elizabeth. She simply gave me the courage to admit it.”
His sister stopped speaking to take some deep breaths, and Darcy waited on tenterhooks, anxious what she might say next.
“I do not want to marry.” She raised her chin as if she expected immediate objections. When he said nothing, she continued. “Everyone says I must marry because all women my age marry, but…what if I choose not to? What if I do not want a debut or to search for a husband? I am so much more fortunate than most women. I need not marry. And, so, I believe I will not.”
For a moment Darcy had the sense that his world was askew. As if he viewed everything from a new and disconcerting vantage point. He had known of her reluctance to participate in a London Season but never imagined this was behind it. Georgiana would not marry? Ever? The idea had never occurred to him.
He could recognize the logic of her perspective. Indeed, there was no reason she must marry. Presumably, Darcy would marry and beget heirs. He would be quite pleased if his sister lived out the rest of her days at Pemberley.
And yet she seemed so young to make such a momentous decision. Darcy took a step closer to her, wanting to enfold her in his arms but unsure if his touch would be welcome. “Georgie, I know that your experience with Wickham hurt you. But all men are not like him—”
“I know. I know!” She gave a little self-deprecating laugh as she wiped her eyes with a handkerchief. “There are honorable men like you and Richard. But honorable men are far rarer than I first realized.” She balled the handkerchief in one fist. “Even if I found such a man…how can I be sure? How can I know that he is someone to be trusted? I do not believe I could ever trust a man enough to marry him.”
Darcy’s heart ached. The wounds that Wickham had inflicted were so much deeper than he had realized. He reached out to Georgiana, praying that she would not shy away from him. But she leaned eagerly into his embrace and sobbed against his waistcoat. He stroked her hair, not caring how many pins he dislodged, and murmured comforting words.
As the tears began to abate, he said, “If you do not wish to wed, that is perfectly agreeable to me, dearest. Nothing would please me more than to have you live with me forever at Pemberley.”
She took a step back so she could gaze into his eyes. “Truly?”
“In truth, I did not know if I could surr
ender you to another man’s keeping.” This provoked a little giggle from his sister.
“I only ask one thing from you.” Georgiana sobered. “Nothing so burdensome. You are still young. Please do not determine your mind absolutely against marriage. You need not make a coming out, but keep an open mind. You might meet a man in two years or five or seven who will alter your opinion.”
The tension drained from her face, and she gave him a watery smile. “I promise you that. Thank you, Brother.” She peered over her shoulder toward Pemberley. “Perhaps I should go inside and splash some water on my face. I will join you for dinner.” There was a lightness in her step as she hurried into the house.
Richard folded his arms over his chest. “Well, your Miss Bennet has been filling Georgiana’s head with some interesting notions.”
Darcy lifted an eyebrow at his cousin. “Do you believe anything she told Georgiana is inappropriate?”
“I believe Georgiana is young to make such a momentous decision.”
Darcy shrugged. “Nobody would claim she is too young to marry; surely that is an even more momentous decision since it cannot be undone.”
“Touché.”
“As yet, the only decision she has made is to avoid a series of tedious social events. She will encounter many eligible young men in the course of her life. One of them could easily change her mind.”
Richard scowled. “And if it does not happen?”
Darcy shrugged. “Then she shall not marry. Many men do not.”
“It is different for men. They do not need protection as women do.”
Darcy ground his teeth in irritation. Richard was practically making Elizabeth’s argument for her. How galling. “Georgiana will never want for protection.”
“Of course not!” Richard said hastily. “But surely she will need guidance—”
“Do you not think she is a rational creature who can choose her own course?”
Richard’s eyebrow lifted. “You do not appear to believe that about Miss Bennet.”
No doubt this was how a bear felt just as a trap closed around its leg. Damnation! Darcy scowled while his cousin regarded him with a grin.
Rebellion at Longbourn Page 17
