5
Darcy galloped along the path beside the lake, heading for the far end of the estate. It was four days since he had written to his uncle and surely he must soon receive a reply.
He leaned forward along his mount’s neck and urged it faster. Uncle Henry would have nothing but platitudes — there had been time for nothing else.
But he was certain the letter would bid him back to London. He had spent these last few days consciously memorising these rides, his walks alone around his land. If he had to go to London, and he had to marry, he might never again have the solitude he loved.
His heart was heavy, and bitterness filled his soul. He had done nothing wrong. Yet the malicious words of a woman he disliked meant that now he needed to take precipitate action.
He pulled the horse up as he reached the head of the valley, and looked down at Pemberley, gleaming in the dawn light. He wondered what she would be like, the woman he had to marry. Despite his sombre mood, he smiled, at least it would not be Miss Bingley, he was determined of that.
No other could be as bad, certainly. Still, he knew that marrying a stranger could never be a wise thing to do, especially one who must be as desperate as he was.
He wondered idly how he would find someone remotely suitable, one who could be a friend to Georgiana, one who would understand his position and not trouble him too much.
Reluctantly, he moved on. He would go back to the house. Thinking about his situation had spoiled his ride and there was no more peace here.
The post arrived as he ate his solitary breakfast. Would she be an early riser, he wondered? No. He pushed the thought away. He would not think of it, not before he had to.
“Thank you, Mr. Payne.” He nodded at the butler and looked at the small sheaf of letters with distaste. He took a slow, deliberate sip of his coffee, before folding the newspaper and beginning to look through the letters. The expected one from his uncle. A letter from Georgiana — she’d be asking when he was returning to London. A letter from Bingley, and his heart sank. Several business letters. And one from his cousin, Richard. He stared at it in amazement.
Richard never wrote, he would just appear. Darcy wondered what had happened. He shrugged. Uncle Henry had no doubt told him about what had happened and he would want to sympathise.
Darcy pushed away his plate, he wasn’t hungry now. He pushed himself to his feet and picked up his letters and his coffee cup, and nodded to the footman.
“More coffee in the library, if you please.”
He sat in his favourite leather chair, trying to decide whether to read Bingley’s letter first, or the one from his uncle.
Then he selected Bingley’s untidy scrawl. What he had to say might affect how he read his uncle’s letter.
Darcy,
I hope you’re feeling somewhat better, and I cannot repeat too much how very sorry I am at what happened at Netherfield.
I don’t know what you have decided to do, but I want to tell you that Caroline has arrived in London. She has gone to stay with Louisa and Hurst at their town house, whereas I am staying at my club.
I went to see her, and she is refusing to speak to me. I did ensure that she heard me, though; that if any word leaked out of the matter, I would cut her off for her behaviour and ruin. I have also told Louisa that if Caroline speaks out and Louisa still accommodates her, that I will give her the cut, too.
I think Louisa, at least, was unsettled by what I said, and I hope that she will be able to rein Caroline in — at least until you have done what you have to do.
I am so very sorry, and I hope you will forgive me.
Yours,
Bingley.
Darcy rubbed his eyes as he always had to after reading Bingley’s untidy scrawl. He scowled. Miss Bingley, it seemed, had not abandoned hopes of securing him. He wondered what it would take for her to give up.
A cold feeling seeped through him. Would she turn up at the church and try and prevent his marriage going ahead?
He put the letter down, and turned to the one from Matlock House. He would have to ensure that Uncle Henry knew to ensure somehow that Miss Bingley could not interrupt the service.
Darcy,
I read your letter with considerable regret and also dismay that you had gone to Pemberley rather than coming straight to me. But you always were one to need time for solitary reflection.
However, you do need to come to London now. You are very fortunate. I have found you a suitable wife and I think you will be pleased with her.
Darcy’s heart constricted. Events were moving too fast. Uncle had found a lady to be his wife? Who was she? How had he found her? What was she like?
We saw her here under a pretext and your aunt had a long conversation with her and says she is a delightful young lady.
Darcy turned the pages quickly, where would he say what her name was? But in all of the three closely written sheets, the name of this young lady was absent. How could he not have told him?
You must return to Darcy House immediately. Georgiana will be pleased to see you. Then you can call here and I will explain everything. It is the 7th now, and you will receive this express on the 9th, God willing.
So I will make you an appointment at Lambeth Palace for the 12th, the day after you should arrive here. Then you can obtain the special licence. I will provisionally make arrangements for the wedding the following week, and trust you will send ahead if I need to hasten the plans.
Darcy felt his heart rate quicken. Should he send Bingley’s letter on to his uncle? Should the wedding be brought forward?
Was he even going to meet this young lady before the appointed hour?
He put the letter down. Of course he would meet her, he was determined on that, at least. He wanted some semblance of choice, some thought that he could reject her if he did not agree with his uncle’s choice.
He stared into the fire. He did not really have a choice. He finished his coffee slowly and deliberately before ringing the bell. He might as well leave today. He could even get as far as Leicester and be at Darcy House late tomorrow, if the weather held fair. He glanced at the other letters. He could read them in the coach, they could say nothing that would delay his departure.
Pemberley was no longer his sanctuary.
6
Elizabeth walked slowly along the road, holding Peter’s hand. As they walked, she pointed out some of the sights — a pigeon searching through some fallen leaves, and some interesting bark on a plane tree.
He walked slowly, dragging his feet, and Elizabeth was hard put to it to encourage him.
“Come on, Peter,” she said. “When we reach the park, we will sit on a bench and I’ll tell you a story of some pirates off the coast of Africa.”
“Ooh!” The child gave a little skip of excitement and speeded up a little. Elizabeth found him quite hard work. He seemed naturally a little lazy and she thought he might be more lively if he had the chance of a country upbringing.
She looked round. London was depressing to her, and so she could understand why it might be to others, too. She laughed softly to herself. Why should others find it depressing, just because she did? There were plenty of people she passed in the streets, their expressions lively and animated. They, at least, could find enjoyment here.
She straightened up and walked a little straighter. If she decided to enjoy London, she would do so. She knew that. It was no good worrying about the future, worrying about her family. She must enjoy today, and enjoy the opportunities she did have.
She looked down at her charge. “So, Peter, what do you think should be the name of the chief pirate in the story?”
She looked round as they turned into the park. There was a bench under the plane trees near the lake where they usually sat, and she peered over to see if it was unoccupied. It was, and she drew Peter towards it. He would need his story first, while he rested after the walk.
Telling the story, she concentrated on him, adding another enthralling and unexpected litt
le incident every time she felt his rapt attention beginning to wander. As she spoke, she was aware of other listeners, a few more children sidling nearby, listening, and she raised her voice a little. It would be good for Peter to become acquainted with other children, he was too reticent to have made any friends, and she would relish the chance of talking to the other governess or maid while the children played together.
She glanced up to see if she recognised them and was astonished to see that the other children were her nephews and nieces, and her aunt and uncle were standing behind them, smiling affectionately.
Aunt Gardiner indicated she should carry on, and the children were looking up at her, puzzled that she had stopped.
Elizabeth looked at them all, and launched into the rest of the story. But she cut it as short as she dared, ending on a thrilling note, which should make Peter willing to go to bed tonight and hear the rest. Then she gave him a little nudge.
“Go and play with the other children, Peter. I expect you might want to play pirates, as there are so many of you now. Stay where I can still see you.”
“Yes, Miss Bennet,” he said obediently, and sidled off towards the others.
Elizabeth turned to her aunt and uncle. “What a lovely surprise to see you!” She gave them an affectionate kiss. “Have you time to sit down?”
“Of course we have, Lizzy.” Aunt Gardiner settled herself on the bench. “Peter’s a lucky boy to have you as his governess. I could see how engaged he was in the story.”
Elizabeth smiled. “You know I have always loved telling stories.” She became serious. “Have you heard from Jane, or Mama? Is something wrong?”
Her aunt patted her hand. “No, Lizzy. As far as I know, all is well in Meryton. But we came here because we wanted to see you, and it was likely that you bring Peter here most days.” She smiled. “We have been fortunate, we have not had to wait too long.”
“I’m glad.” But while she was, she was also rather concerned. Why would they want to see her? It seemed a serious matter, but perhaps she had misjudged their expressions. She turned to her uncle.
“Have you heard anything from Matlock House about the possible companion position?”
He looked a little uncomfortable. “Well, I’m not sure. I have heard, and I think they’re trying to set up some sort of meeting. But it might be as you say, that they will try to get a family member to act as her companion. But we will not give up hope just yet.”
Aunt Gardiner nodded. “And that is what I want to talk to you about, Lizzy. I have been worried. I’m not sure that seeking another position is the right thing to do for you, however secure it seems to make you.” Her eyes followed Elizabeth’s, as she watched the children playing.
Elizabeth’s heart beat a little faster. She knew this must be important; Uncle Gardiner spent each day trying to keep his business going — he wouldn’t just have come here merely on the possibility of seeing her.
She turned back to her aunt. “I admit I did not think my life would end up like this, Aunt. But I confess that I cannot see another way to ensure I can help my family and be secure — and as content with my life as is possible.”
Aunt Gardiner looked sad. “It’s been a very difficult time, Lizzy. I know that, and this general financial situation has made it even harder for you, as there are so few positions available.” She looked directly at Elizabeth.
“You and Jane used to dream of marrying, and marrying well, didn’t you? I have been thinking that you might need to consider marrying, Lizzy. It would mean you are secure and that you can support the family.”
Elizabeth stared at her in shock. “But Aunt! I will not be able to marry now. There are so many reasons, all stacked up together, that it can’t ever happen, even if I wanted it.”
“I do agree that there may be difficulties, Lizzy. But there are — circumstances where a gentleman might be prepared to overlook these in order to marry, and I think you would need to consider the possibility.”
Elizabeth stared out, barely seeing the children, who now appeared to be playing tag, Peter puffing along behind them. She smiled slightly at the sight, then she thought about what her aunt had said, and sighed.
“Who would marry someone from a family which is ruined?” She shook her head, she knew the answer. “A man as desperate as that must be the sort of man no one else would marry.” She shook her head. “I would be trapped in a marriage that might be violent, might be intolerable, might be …” she shivered.
“No, Aunt, I cannot see that such a thing is possible.”
Aunt Gardiner looked sad. “I know these are all things that must be thought of, Lizzy, and I want you to know that your uncle and I would never — never — allow you to marry a man like that.” She took Elizabeth’s hands. “But I want you to be open to the idea. It may be that the possibility will never arise, that we will find you a position in which you can be happy. Perhaps it might take longer and several places to find it. But please, just assure me that you will be open to considering any possibility that may arise.” She squeezed Elizabeth’s hands. “I know you feel loyal to that little boy, and you’ve worked very hard with him. But loyalty to this family only runs one way, and if something better comes along, you must give notice.”
Elizabeth stared at her, and then her uncle. “You know something, don’t you?” she said quietly. “I can’t imagine what you know. But I trust you both, and I’m grateful for your help.” She stood up.
“I must go now, but I’m so happy you took the trouble to come and see me. It was a lovely surprise.”
7
Darcy paced across his uncle’s library, deep in thought. Her name was Elizabeth Bennet. He had demanded that information at least before they began their discussions.
“Do sit down, Darcy!” Uncle Henry seemed a little nettled, and Darcy sighed.
“I’m sorry.” He crossed the room and sat opposite his uncle. “I’m also sorry that I have caused you this extra work.”
“Yes, well, it’s happened. There is nothing else to be done but to deal with it.” His uncle’s bright eyes glittered beneath his expressive shaggy eyebrows, so different to the rest of him.
“I’d like to meet her,” he said abruptly.
“I could arrange that,” the older man nodded. “But it must be under a pretext. And I would prefer that it not happen at all. I do not want any rumour of this getting out, should it fail.” He glowered. “But it cannot fail, we know that.” He looked over at him. “She is ladylike, pretty and caring. Can you not trust your aunt on that, without meeting her?”
Darcy shook his head despondently. He still wished things were different.
“So Richard was at Darcy House when you got in last night?” Uncle Henry changed tack, busily filling his pipe, and Darcy nodded.
“Yes, he was. I was grateful to him.”
“And he told you a little of what I have arranged?”
“Yes, he has. Thank you.” Darcy swallowed. It seemed he was to be married next week to this Miss Elizabeth Bennet. “But he has not met Miss Bennet. Can you tell me a little more about her? Why on earth would she consent to marry a stranger? What sort of lady would do that?”
“Ring for coffee, Darcy, and I will tell you her background. Then you can ask your aunt about her as a person. I think you will be impressed, despite yourself.”
The weather wasn’t cold, but Darcy wrapped his hands around the coffee cup, despite his uncle’s pained look. He needed the warmth, his heart was stone-cold.
“I’m ready.”
“Are you going to listen with an open mind, or do you want to abandon the whole thing and let your name be tarnished?” His uncle sounded angry. “You need to think of Georgiana, Darcy. You haven’t done anything wrong, I know that. But she didn’t even commit the error of staying in a place where such a thing could happen.”
Darcy looked up, a hot rejoinder on his tongue, but bit it back. There was no need to remind his uncle about the Ramsgate debacle. He’d remember soon
enough, and the less it was talked about the better.
“Indeed. I’m sorry, uncle. I’m grateful to you for your efforts.”
The older man’s voice softened. “It’s a disappointment to you, I know. But if it is any consolation, I will tell you something, although I do not want you ever to repeat it.” His eyes stared into the distance. “I did not want to marry your aunt. I was still a young man, sure I had yet to meet the woman who would make my heart beat faster.” He looked directly at Darcy. “I never did. And I love your aunt very much. I would have missed my chance at a happy life and family, had I followed my own desires.”
Darcy was humbled. “You didn’t need to tell me that, Uncle Henry, but thank you.”
“Yes,” the other man grunted. “But just make sure you give Miss Bennet a chance. Don’t hold her at a distance; get to know her and her own dreams and desires.” He smiled wryly. “You can appear very distant and disdainful sometimes.”
Darcy stayed quiet. He was impatient to meet her, this woman he’d have to share his life with. From what his uncle was saying, she seemed pleasant enough. But she’d have been on her best behaviour when meeting the family, so …
“You were going to tell me her background, Uncle.”
“Yes. She’s the daughter of a rather impoverished gentleman in Hertfordshire. He was unfortunate enough to have five daughters and no sons, another misfortune being that the estate was entailed away to the male line — a distant cousin. When he died two years ago, the family were thrown out.” His lips tightened.
“Mrs. Bennet’s own fortune is quite insufficient to keep one person, let alone six. The older girls sought employment as governesses or companions.”
Darcy’s own lips tightened. It seemed he’d have the expenses of a whole new family.
“Yes, you will.” His uncle could tell what he was thinking. “But you can keep them at arm’s length and the girl herself is quite charming.”
Forever, Darcy Page 3
