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Chapter 31
She had decided to wear the same gown she wore the evening of Marianne Ashton's engagement celebration all those months ago. To her it seemed to be a lifetime since then and Elizabeth eyed the dark blue evening dress with an amused twist in her lips. Her hair was done in an intricate pattern of braids and instead of the pearls it had carried then, it was now adorned with the simplest white satin ribbon, which matched the embroidery on the gown. Her eyes were in the fullest blue that evening, pooled with a strange energy she wasn't aware of. All she knew was that the Darcys' guests were there and that she needed to get down quickly. It wouldn't do to embarrass them in front of their relations because an errant Bennet like she had been late for dinner.
The Wellands. Elizabeth had heard about them countless times. Even though she had only met her uncle's wealthy relations once, she still had only a blurry memory of the two pretty girls and their distinguished father. Other than that, the only allusion she ever heard to them other than through occasional polite inquiries, was the fact that every time her grandmother used a threatening example of why she should forgo her "impertinent ways", she chose to mention the Welland girls. And the fact that they were the late Lady Catherine de Bourgh's only granddaughters was enough to keep her on her toes. She had heard enough of that lady to know that she should be at her finest that evening.
Checking the white slippers her grandmother had insisted on her mother buying before the trip to Sussex, she stole out of the room and on toward the drawing room.
Laughter seemed to leak from the cracks in the ancient doors and she was positive that she had never heard anyone laugh as delightedly as the man inside that room. The peal of feminine giggles that followed was obviously alien to her ears and she felt edgy. If she had only been casually concerned with appearance while back in her room, now she was fully nervous. Wringing her hands in anxiety, she nodded politely at the servant at the door and smiled nervously when it was opened to her admittance.
She was thrown into the room and in for a surprise, for she could not find any other way to react to the picture of William sitting between two young ladies who were the epitome of grace and elegance. His cheeks were flushed as he tossed his head back, laughing along with one of the girls. The other was feigning indignation, but was obviously just as amused.
"Oh, Will, she's lovely!" Elizabeth heard when her presence was noticed.
William was still grinning when his eyes met hers. And although her breath was caught somewhere in her throat and her heart was beating wildly, Elizabeth managed to draw a tiny smile and curtsy because that was what one had to do when about to be introduced.
"Kate, Belle, this is Miss Bingley." He said, sobering up. "Cousin Elizabeth, please allow me to finally introduce you to Lady Annabelle and Lady Catherine Welland."
"Kate and Belle, please. 'Lady Catherine' was Grandmother and Grandmother alone." Said the lady who bore the name.
Catherine was obviously the eldest of the two. Light brown hair matched exquisite grey eyes all wrapped in a pink muslin dress that showed her attributes in a discreet, but ravishing way. Well poised, sitting straight, soft spoken, and elegant, she was everything that Elizabeth was not and had been many times scolded for not being - it scared her that sometimes Grandmother Bennet was right to the boot. Her hands were two white lilies that that lay folded on her lap and did not flail about in gesticulation. Her eyes seemed astute and sharp just as a society lady's eyes were supposed to be.
The other sister did not help at all. Annabelle was even lovelier than her sister was. She had a round face with saucer-like blue eyes and glorious blond hair, which matched perfectly the light yellow gown with golden embroidering of flowers. She was the one, who had been laughing loudly apparently, because she had that glow people get when in a good mood. Her blue eyes were filled with childish humour as she eyed Elizabeth from behind a thick wall of long lashes. She had that kind of sweet
naïveté that made her likeable even to an ogre. It became obvious to Elizabeth why these two young ladies had often been used as examples to her of good breeding and polished accomplishment. They emanated those qualities as if they were born with them.
No wonder he thought so low of me. These girls probably spent their entire afternoons in the parlour learning how to stitch.
"You may call me Beth." She half-murmured.
"Oh, Will here was telling us all about you!" Gushed Annabelle. "I had heard of you from his mother, but I would never have assumed that you were as lovely as this. Do not mistake my meaning - everyone told us you were remarkably pretty - but they never did do you justice."
Elizabeth blushed with the compliment and thanked Annabelle lightly. But no matter how sincere the lady sounded, she could not help but think herself undeserving of such praise. All of a sudden she was thinking herself a speck of plain granite between a set of the finest diamonds.
"Why do you not sit down here with us while we are not summoned for dinner?" Asked Catherine. "It was awfully dull with the 'adults'." She said with a smirk.
Elizabeth suddenly remembered her manners.
"I have to go and greet your father. My aunt and uncle are probably wondering where I am so they can introduce me." She said.
"Oh, but of course. Go then, dear, but do come back." Said Annabelle.
After taking her leave properly, she could not help but think that the way that she was leaving this room was very different from whilst coming in.
Elizabeth had once heard her aunt saying that she never understood how Lady Anne Welland survived the course of two successful pregnancies. She had never been fully acquainted with the side of the Darcy family related to the late Lady Anne's sister, Lady Catherine de Bourgh (who died of extreme old age when the girl was four) and her daughter. She knew that old lady had never quite warmed up to her uncle's marriage to her aunt and that it was not until Lady Catherine had died that Mrs. Darcy insisted upon renewing the acquaintance with that branch of her husband's family tree. By then, the former Miss de Bourgh - now Lady Anne Welland - had died after giving birth to a son, who also did not survive.
From Bennet, Elizabeth heard little about the Wellands or the late de Bourghs. She knew that Lady Catherine had been a fastidious woman, who interfered in all of her relation's lives. By chance she learned that Lady Catherine was quite amazed that the new Mistress of Pemberley, a mere country wench from Hertfordshire, had been able to give her nephew not only one, but two healthy heirs and that one of them was highly agreeable. Of Bennet she never quite approved, for he was too much like his mother: too impertinent and quite showing himself to be a shame to the name. It made her glad that she had never been acquainted with the woman. As harsh as those words were, however, Bennet never failed to refer to the old widow with a lecherous, mirthful smile.
Her uncle's cousin married a wealthy Duke by the name of Welland a year after the Darcys' were wed. Bennet was only five when he met his two cousins. He hardly got close to them, as Catherine was a trifle older than he was and due to her age, Annabelle - though seven years younger than her sister - was a shadow of sorts to the young girl. Bennet would much rather be friends with Elizabeth, thus leaving the Welland girls for his brother to entertain, though it was not as if Bennet did not like his cousins. They just "were a tad too girlish for the likes of him." Bennet had always claimed that girls who feared ruining their stockings and shoes frightened him a little. That assessment, obviously, did not include Margaret Fawley, because Meg, after all "was all sweetness and couldn't frighten a fly not even if she wanted to."
"I have passed by Wragby once." The Duke was saying as they were heading to the dining room. "The grounds are quite magnificent. You have got yourself quite an inheritance, Miss Bingley."
Elizabeth smiled as she sat down at the seat indicated that she take. "Thank you, your lordship."
To her surprise, William occupied the seat across from her. He looked dashing in the dark green coat he was wearing, and as their eyes met among the heirloom silver candlesticks, Elizabeth noticed that his dark orbs resembled Bennet's more than she had thought. They would never match in the intensity of their gazes, but the light green reflexes they took in the candlelit evenings were the same. However, Elizabeth perceived that William's eyes had another glint to them and she blushed when she recognised old Beatrice Darcy's own disconcerting gaze staring back at her. When William smiled at her, she focused on what was being put in her plate and decided it would be a while before she would look up from her plate again.
"Papa," Annabelle was saying, "we must have Will come to Lancaster and bring Beth along. She would be a delightful addition to our party."
The Duke smiled at Elizabeth, who could not help a grin of her own.
"Why, Annabelle... Thank you. I am sure you two would be gladly welcomed into Wragby as well."
"Bennet and I however would be shot dead if we ever approached the property." William teased.
Elizabeth blushed scarlet for the umpteenth time in the evening. "Can you blame my father for not wanting his only daughter to be corrupted by such undeserving company?"
"What are you suggesting, madam?"
"Precisely what you are thinking, sir."
The Duke, the Darcys, and the young ladies watched amused the playful banter between the cousins. William did not seem to be done, however.
"Oh, and I supposed that you invited yourself here when neither of us were present precisely because of that."
"Why, of course, sir. Mama and papa would never consent to me coming to Pemberley to be coerced into despicable schemes."
"Despicable schemes! What can you mean?"
"Oh, how do you suppose the manner in which you appeared before me this afternoon will influence me!?"
It was out before she could think and her cheeks grew aflame instantly after the words hung in the air silver-like.
"I may recall the morning I arrived at Netherfield Park and found one cousin of mine quite in the same state as I was. In fact, that was my sole inspiration. Only I am much wiser and decided to wait for the summer to engage in such activities."
Elizabeth sputtered in fake indignation and then resumed eating. William was quite amazed that she let him win it like that.
"We could have some music, do you not agree, Welland?" Asked Mr. Darcy after the gentleman had joined the ladies later in the evening.
"Why, yes!" Cried Annabelle. "And I will not have anyone else play other than Beth!"
"Why me!?" She cried in self defence. "Aunt Lizzy plays a lot better - and she sings, too. I sound like a grovelling crow."
Mrs. Darcy chuckled and attempted some mimicking. "That is because you do not practise any."
Elizabeth grinned lecherously at her aunt. "Well, you said did not use to be fond of practising your playing either."
Annabelle seemed amused, but soundly cleared her throat. "There is no need for arguments, Miss Bingley, you are playing for us and that is final. Will said that nothing gives him more pleasure than hearing you play and I ought to see if he has any taste whatsoever."
"Oh, I am sure that 'Will' here grossly exaggerated my talents for some ill purpose of his own." Elizabeth said, taking a peek at her cousin, who was somehow entranced by the carpet.
Annabelle laughed and replied in mock-fastidiousness. "Oh, no. Cousin Darcy is never wrong. He always says the absolute truth."
The girls giggled, but Mrs. Darcy was grinning at them like a Cheshire cat.
"Let us open the pianoforte, then. Beth, you come along, dearest."
Chapter 32
Pemberley's kitchens were famous for their luxurious breakfasts, and the one that greeted Elizabeth on the morning following the dinner with the Wellands was no exception. Her aunt, however, was so indulgent when it came to her niece, that when Elizabeth seemingly failed to awaken in time for the meal, a tray was sent upstairs with a collection of rolls and cheeses, and a cup of hot tea.
In truth, the young lady had been lying awake in the midst of rumpled sheets, reading from quite before dawn. Elizabeth was in the habit of waking at the wee hours of the morning, regardless of how active she had been in the previous night. Sure she had retired quite early after the Darcys' guests had left, but she had been enraptured with a Fielding novel she had found among her aunt's books. Not only that, but also what had transpired in the course of the evening had left her quite agitated, for reasons that she failed to perceive.
Annabelle had chosen to turn the pages at the pianoforte for her, so that she "could admire her playing at better advantage" and the young woman was quite adamant that Elizabeth graced their evening with something of taste. As Elizabeth felt that she was supposed to give a good impression, she chose her favourite Mozart sonata and at that, begun to play at what she considered her best. She did not, however, concentrate on the music, once she was at ease with her playing. She let herself be led fully by the sounds she was creating herself and let her eyes occasionally wander about the room.
She saw her aunt smiling approvingly, Catherine listening attentively, the Duke with a formidable expression on his face, and her uncle grinning. William was leaning against the doorframe of the drawing room, his eyes glued on her with such intensity, she was quite thankful she had not fingered a wrong chord and ruined the whole performance. She never looked at him again for the entire duration of the sonata and only when she was done, did she actually turn an eye on him. He had approached his mother in the meantime and was now applauding her as the rest of the room, but his smile was only for her. She returned it, of course, quite unconscious of her own actions, and then blushed, in what could have been interpreted as becoming modesty. She then vacated her seat so that her aunt could take over.
These thoughts occupied most of Elizabeth's early morning as well. The Fielding novel was taken so that she could stop thinking what she considered "foolish things". Why on God's name did that image linger in her head with such intensity and insistence? She turned out to be so enraptured with the book that she quite missed the time. When the tray bearing her breakfast was brought in by Joan at nine in the morning, she was startled into awareness and felt that her body was sore from lying in one position.
She had her breakfast in bed and then asked to be dressed and to have her hair done in with a white ribbon adorning it. But when she saw the beautiful day that greeted her through the window, bringing out a spectacle of sunlight hitting the marsh waters of the pond and the brisk trees outside, she decided to change her attire and have her hair caught in a net, instead.
"Oh, dear Lord!" She cried suddenly.
"What is, Miss Beth?" Asked Joan as she sent out the already used washbasin so it could be emptied.
"My lavender bonnet!" Elizabeth cried, looking around in her trunks for the lost object. "Oh! Forget the bonnet! My novel! The Scott novel Uncle Darcy gave me! Oh, Joan, I left it at the grove by the pond!"
Joan, however, did not distress herself on her mistress's despair. She was too busy blinking a few times and going to the dresser.
"Do you mean these, madam?" She asked a trifle amused, as she held out the bonnet as it had been left on the dresser, neatly folded, along with the book.
Elizabeth sighed with relief and sagged into an armchair, staring at the two objects in the maid's hands with relief.
"Was it there that I put them?" She asked, smiling.
"I do not think so, madam. There is a note in here."
Elizabeth frowned and took up the parcel that had been stuck inside the book. It was written in a familiar hand, only seemingly in a more rushed manner.
"Dear Cousin,
I believe these belong to you. I found them at the grove when I arrived at the estate and decided to take that swim. Please pardon the liberty I took into returning them to your chambers.
Yours & etc.
William Darcy."
"I shall wear the lavender riding habit, Joan."
"My, my, where are we riding to? Cornwall?" She heard her uncle's deep voice humorously call out as soon as she put her foot out of her dressing room.
Elizabeth curtsied while waving the bonnet. "No, sir, to Yorkshire. That way I can get away from clever uncles."
Mr. Darcy laughed, for he delighted in seeing his niece tease him in a manner that reminded him of his wife when he first met her.
"Only do not go too far. I saw some ugly clouds up North."
"Ugly clouds? In this marvellous weather?"
"Aye, I know it sounds frightfully odd, but it's true. We have been lacking rain for a month and I gather it is all going to fall upon us late this afternoon."
"I have no plans of making that long an outing, Uncle Darcy. I do plan to be back for lunch, you know." She said teasingly.
"Well yes, but if I know you any better...Anyway, be careful out there."
"Yes, I will, Uncle."
Elizabeth set foot out of Pemberley and the sun hid behind the clouds. She looked up and made a face at the sky before setting out for the stables.
It seems Uncle Darcy was right after all.
"Hello, Mr. Cohen!" She called cheerfully as she saw the Darcys' stableman brushing her uncle's shining black stallion. Mr. Darcy had always been terribly proud of the horse.
"Miss Beth!" The old man called out, genuinely glad to see her. "I wasn't expectin' you today wi' the weather misbe'avin' and all."
"I know! It fooled me enough to get me out of the house ready to spend the afternoon riding. I shall only take a turn, because I cannot even think of not being on a horse today!"
Mr. Cohen smiled at her as he left his master's horse for while. Elizabeth had been a familiar face for the old man ever since she was a child. He had always witnessed hers and Bennet's antics when they were children, particularly when it involved equines. Mr. Darcy had always been a little apprehensive when it came to Cohen and his covering up for his son and niece, but deep down he knew he could not blame him for being so fond of the children. They obviously offered a welcome distraction from dealing with the stables all day.
"Get me Old Lily, please, Mr. Cohen. I miss her dreadfully." She said, smiling as she put on her riding gloves.
"You rode 'er the day before yesterday, Miss Beth." The old man laughed and then sobered up altogether too quickly. "I'm afraid Master William took 'er early this morning, ma'am."
Elizabeth eyed the man with her eyes wide. Then she stamped her foot. "Why that- He stole my favourite horse!"
Old Mr. Cohen laughed out loud at the young lady's anger. "I told 'im you would be mad at him, but he just grinned at me and rode off."
This only added to Elizabeth's indignation. She quickly chose another horse and set off to the boundaries of the grounds.
William Darcy patted the mare's head while he breathed in the crisp mid-morning air and felt a cold breeze ruffle the greenery around him threateningly. The idea of rain seemed a great deal absurd when he had left the house earlier in the morning, but he was beginning to be convinced that it was not far from the truth. Old Lily seemed tired and so he dismounted her and let her enjoy a bit of grazing in peace.
He took off his boots and coat and sat down on the ground, leaning against a rock. Old Lily seemed not adverse at all to have him mount her, very unlike the way she had been when he had come to Pemberley in late April. She had been his great comfort in those lonely days, when there was nothing to think of but the fact that he would never stop loving Elizabeth Bingley.
Ironic that she should wear the same dress that she had worn to the Filmonts a week after his returning from the Continent. Whether it was love or just plain fact, she had looked no different to him than she had looked then. Juvenile, innocent, sweet and yet ravishing, breathtaking, alluring. His heart had stopped as soon as she had set foot into the back drawing room and Kate and Belle had noticed it, of course, because they read him like a picture book. He was so close to his cousins and had let them into his private thoughts and musings so many times that now, when he needed concealment the most, his attempt at hiding had been almost pathetic. They fawned over Elizabeth like doting sister-in-laws, kept shooting him the strangest looks over dinner, and had done everything in their power to get to know her. As they were leaving, Belle had turned to him with an impertinent grin.
"We give our leave to like her. She's charming, amusing, and she puts you in your place. We love her already."
At least they approved of her. He did not know how he would handle the contrary.
"How dare you!" He suddenly heard called out from behind him.
He turned and saw Elizabeth, standing next to a horse of Bennet's, flushed with rage. She ran to Old Lily and ran those small white fingers he knew so well through the mare's mane and then glared at him.
"She's my favourite mare! Aunt Lizzy gave her to me and you come, without any ceremony whatsoever, and take her just as if she were at your disposal!"
William put his boots back on, got up, and brushed the back of his trousers clean. Walking towards her, he towered her a head and a half and promptly laughed in her face. Not only was the fact that she was yelling at him because of a horse amusing, but the ridiculousness of her stomping and raging and tantrum-throwing made her even the more adorable. And he knew that she would be mad, for had not Cohen given him a warning look while telling him that the mare was "Miss Bingley's favourite"? She was so captivating that even stablemen defended her interests.
"She's my favourite, too." He said in a defying manner. "My mother never even told me she had given her to you."
Elizabeth sputtered. "I have ridden Old Lily since I was ten! How foolish could you have been as not to have known that she was mine?"
That got to him. Enough was enough. He frowned.
"Do you think yourself so important as to make me constantly aware of the horse you are riding? And what is the fuss anyway? You have been a legend in the family regarding your readiness to ride everything with four legs and now you come and make a scene over a mare!?"
Elizabeth blushed in mortification. When she thought that everything was fine, she had to go there and make a spectacle of herself, only further proving that she was the spoiled brat he had always claimed she was.
"I- I am sorry."
He seemed surprised.
"No, you should not be." He said slowly. "I took your horse. Mr. Cohen himself said she was yours and I paid him no heed. I will even admit that I did it to infuriate you."
She looked up at him in stupefaction and met the sight of a broad grin on his face. It disconcerted her even further.
"Truce?" He offered, meaning more than just over the horse.
She shook his hand with a small smile playing on her lips, blue eyes meeting brown ones.
"Truce."
Chapter 33
"How did you like the Wellands?" Asked William once Elizabeth was sitting down next to him on the grass.
She was a little worried that he might notice that she was doing the unladylike thing and sitting down in in her finest riding habit. Not only that, but she was also not at all adverse to dirtying her stockings with mud. She took off her bonnet and let the breeze ruffle her stray curls before she tucked them behind her ears.
"The Duke is all prim as he should be, I'll give you that much." She said. "Your cousins took me quite by surprise, though. They are two of the most delightfully absurd people I have ever met! Pray do not take this the wrong way - I like them very much. I just never thought that they would be so..."
"Foolish?" William offered before he tossed his head back with laughter at her glaring at him. "Annabelle is quite the ball of joy, is she not? She is only sixteen, you know, quite a child still."
Elizabeth reacted to that with some surprise. She had realised that Annabelle was filled with youthful joy, but her own shyness toward the girls had made her forget that Catherine was only a few years her senior and that Annabelle was still very young.
"If you had referred to me as child when I was sixteen, you would have found yourself half keeled into the pond."
William laughed again and she stared at him. Humour did wonders to his countenance and her throat seemed somewhat clogged at the sight of him laughing so openly.
"I know. I have been scolded for that kind of treatment by both of them. Well, Kate is all sense." He sobered up and seemed reflective for a minute. "She is an heiress, so she has this notion that she has to be pretty serious about everything - sometimes I cannot tell if it is mere act, if it's in her nature, or if it was...Well, Belle, on the other hand, is so flamboyant I often get half a mind to lock her up in the attic."
"I think Kate is more alike to you than you think. She probably follows some rule about elder siblings who are to inherit big properties. And Annabelle is the free-spirited reckless younger sister..."
He paused reflexively. "I think you are right. A fastidious heir is often followed by a lunatic younger sibling, whereas heiresses who are only children are just plain lunatic by themselves."
Elizabeth feigned indignation. "I am not lunatic!"
"You are not? How come you are sitting down on the grass in your finest chiffon, with a horse almost chewing your hair?"
Elizabeth yelped, as she perceived that Old Lily was practically licking her left ear and then glared at him for fitting in with her previous fears. He had noticed that she would ruin her dress.
"Are you always so observant and careful about everything around you? Even clothes that are not going to cost you anything?"
"You mean to tell me that the day my uncle becomes bankrupt will not have anything to do with my good name in society?" He asked teasingly.
"Well, I am sorry for ruining your reputation." Elizabeth snorted.
"You are going to pay dearly for what your actions will make of the family, miss."
Elizabeth raised both her eyebrows at him. "Oh, really? And how exactly am I going to be charged?"
As promising as it was for William to have her owing him something, he only grinned at her lecherously while he got up and made to the two horses tied up to the tree closest to them.
"Well, for one thing, you will be deprived of riding Lily forever."
He mounted the mare and took off in full gallop before Elizabeth could even think of catching up to him.
Mrs. Carlyle, the Darcys' housekeeper, was practically shoved out of the way as her master's niece whirled into the manor, dripping water all over the place, followed closely by the master's son. Late Mrs. Reynolds' eldest daughter was struck aghast, as she perceived that the young man following Miss Bingley was not Master Bennet, as usual, but his elder brother.
Life was full of surprises, it seemed.
Elizabeth had mounted Bennet's horse astride, ignoring the impropriety of her skirts being hiked up her legs. Not that she was held in any indecent position: she always wore riding breeches under her riding habits as a precaution. She was a much better horsewoman when riding like a horseman and so, in fear of any danger that might befall her, she used to be prepared for the unpredictable.
She reached him in no time. Her ability surpassed that of any male acquaintance of hers when it came to riding in full speed, something she acquired from extensive practise while in the country. And so William was baffled when Elizabeth suddenly passed him - the black horse contrasting with the light colour of the breeches exposed from under her dress. He gasped, of course, for he had never seen such thing before him. And she reigned the animal in front of his breaking one triumphantly, smiling, as drops of rain fell over them shamelessly. They were both soaked in no time.
"Water seems to be the theme of our encounters, Miss Bingley." He said over the rustling wind.
"Indeed it does. Your father shall be happy, however. He was expecting the downpour for weeks."
William nodded, breathless as the sight of Elizabeth Bingley sitting on that horse, all wet and dirty, wearing lavender as usual. She seemed ethereal as she smiled at him, dimples showing unabashedly. In fact, everything about her seemed devoid of any restraint. She was there at her fullest self, enjoying the cold rain like a child would, and yet so incredibly aware of herself. It would be completely pathetic and unattractive if she played the damsel in distress and began flailing her arms about because of the impending rain and its hazards; her clear enjoyment of the situation was what drew him the most to her. In other women, fear might be charming, but in Elizabeth it was only natural that carelessness reigned triumphantly as one of her many qualities.
"Do you not think we should be heading back?" She asked, blushing hotly under his gaze.
Thank God for the rain. I would not bear it if he saw the colour my face is. She thought, as her eyes roamed his once-again wet figure and then darted to the ground in shame.
"I am afraid we left a few of our belongings back where we were." He said. "Stay here and I will get them."
She nodded, letting him be the gentleman she knew he was and always would be. It was most useless, however, since his previous discarding of his coat left him without any proper protection to be offered. Her own bonnet had been left behind.
"It is the second time I lose this bonnet and the second time he brings it to me." She muttered, unconsciously, while pulling the reigns tighter in her grasp.
It was not five minutes before he came back, giving their belongings to her: the coat so she could wear it and the bonnet because it belonged to her. She pulled his coat on to find it barely moist and marvelled at the comfort she felt in it. She glanced at him to see him flushed - curls in boyish disarray. And then, together and at amazing speed, they both rode back to the stables.
As they reached it, Mr. Cohen was frantic. He barely had time to say a word to the cousins, however. As soon as Elizabeth jumped off the horse, she turned to William with the most mischievous look on her face.
"Race you to the kitchen!" She cried out and took off in a frantic run.
William took no time in jumping off Old Lily and running after her.
As they both charged into the kitchen, Elizabeth stopped at the same time William reached for her hand.
"I know where we - "
"The servants take another - "
They looked at each other, grinned, and scrambled to the narrow passage Pemberley's help used when on their way to the main chambers. That way they could both avoid meeting their elders and also refrain from angering Mr. Darcy about wetting the furniture. William had had enough of that speech the previous day.
"Bennet and I used to sneak in through here when we played hide-and-seek with Meg and Harry." Elizabeth said as they rushed through the busy corridor.
"I used this passage when Richard, James, and I were too dirty to go in through the main door. Everyone who is not named Elizabeth Darcy is particularly fussy when it comes to filth passing through the house."
Elizabeth laughed. "Pemberley is grand and beautiful, but it has its conveniences when it comes to housing children...Why did you not use it yesterday?"
"I did not know I was that wet." William lied.
"How could you possibly not know you were that drenched when you had just dived into the pond?" Elizabeth demanded.
He must have known that it would not be easy deceiving her. Well, she sees right through me most of the time.
Thankfully for him, William was refrained from answering as soon as they reached the doorway that led to their quarters.
"Well, well, well! What have we here!" Someone said, as they were busy closing the discreet servant door behind them.
Elizabeth whirled around - her eyes wide with surprise - and grinned instantly. She forgot the state of her attire and promptly threw herself into the newcomer's arms. Bennet Darcy was quick in laughingly flinging his cousin away from himself.
"You are all wet! Get away from me!" He laughed.
"Ben!" She cried reproachfully.
He turned to William with a lecherous grin. "And do not dare to come near me, as well, sir! I do not need to know how much you care about me - especially when you are all soaked like a damsel who's lost herself in the woods!"
Elizabeth left for her room greatly amused with the whole deal of harassment between the two brothers that she left behind.
Chapter 34
"Well, now I am sure we won't have any silence in the house until the beginning of the season - wherever that boy goes, havoc follows."
Elizabeth suppressed her urge to laugh at Mrs. Carlyle's assessment of Bennet while the older woman was getting a warm bath ready for her in the adjoining dressing room she was always provided with. Her chambers had actually been Georgiana Darcy's, and Mrs. Darcy always let her two favourite nieces have them, since she had no daughters of her own and only one niece on her husband's side who was too young to occupy such space. It consisted of a large dressing room, large enough to store a load of gowns, dresses, coats, shoes, and hats and a glorious dresser with a bronze mirror that was said to have belonged to Stelle D'Arcy, the first mistress Pemberley ever had.
"That is true, ma'am," said Susan, the maid who was helping her with the hot water, "but Master William has been making havoc himself! You've seen how he is behaving, for sure."
"Well then, imagine what is yet to come!" The housekeeper exclaimed and then quickly sobered up. "I have no idea of what has befallen these young men, however. Never in my knowing them have I ever seen them change tempers so quickly. First they mope around like lost little puppies for two entire months and then Master William shows up unexpectedly, all wet from a splash in the pond... And today appears with Miss Beth, all frolicking and laughter. Then Master Bennet arrives all in good spirits, something we have not seen for ages now."
"It must be love." Said Susan thoughtfully, making Elizabeth's stomach churn in a mixture of despair, anger, and a bout of something she could not identify but that she suspected had to with William. "You saw how tight Master William is with Wellands."
Remembering how close William had seemed to his cousins made her fidget with her dirty skirts like a nervous child.
"It must not be the Wellands. I do not see Lady Kate ever contemplating marriage again, I am afraid. After she lost that fiancée of hers last year, she was never the same."
Elizabeth frowned even further. Kate was once engaged?
"Lady Kate was once engaged?"
Mrs. Carlyle seemed surprised at Susan's ignorance. Elizabeth heard the woman sigh.
"Aye, that she was. To a young Colonel from Gloucester - wonderful young man - he was here once for three whole weeks when Master William was home from Cambridge. But I do not think Master Bennet got to know him, for he had been away in Yorkshire with the Bingleys. All I know is that a full month after the Queen was crowned, Colonel Lennox was sent away to India and died of a fever there two months later. The poor thing was inconsolable! I know because my sister Pauline used to chaperone the dears and told me all about poor Lady Kate's grief. She was in mourning until last spring."
Elizabeth stopped listening, torn between pity and some bizarre form of relief. That was why William was so close and spoke so sadly of Catherine. That closeness she had witnessed between them had bothered her. That she had to admit to herself.
"Master William was a great comfort for her. I have never seen such a caring dear boy. He looks on those girls quite as if he were his own brother."
William was a "caring dear boy". Had she heard it from the maids a few months before, she would have laughed at it for sure, but now she was not so surprised.
She was lost in thought when Mrs. Carlyle came out of the dressing room in order to call her into it. She went in a daze, turning her reverie on Kate and her former fiancée and then of how ungrateful she was of having been loved and not returned one ounce of it because of her stupid assumptions. For all she knew, she could lose William any day and then she would die alone with no one to love her. At this thought, she stopped in mid-stride, feeling a chill run down her spine.
When did I begin to compare William and myself to people like Kate and her colonel? I did not even have any regard for him...To begin with.
"Have you heard from the rest of our set?" Asked Bennet over supper later that evening. He looked like he was going to bury his cravat in his plate, so leaned forward in interest he was.
Elizabeth was feeling particularly wicked that evening. Somehow she had this feeling in the back of her head that she had to get back at Bennet for leaving Margaret like that, even if it was not completely his fault. Or perhaps she chose to distract herself from foolish thoughts by pestering her cousin.
"I have not heard from them in a while, I am afraid, but I can gather that they are all well." She answered nonchalantly.
"Are they in London?" He asked, tensing up, but sitting back in his chair and playing with the morsels of beef in his plate.
"Henry is, I believe. His tidings there are apparently taking up most of his time, for he has not written me ever since I came from Yorkshire - and I have been here for two weeks, mind you!"
Bennet seemed rather put out with her reply, for he frowned, and she almost laughed in his face.
Who told you to believe whatever stupidity your brother had to tell you, dearest Bennet Edward Fitzwilliam? She thought with a smirk.
She masked her humour behind her glass, though, because she could not have Bennet perceive her laughing at him. She thought it would ruin everything.
"What about the rest of them?"
Is Meg now dubbed as 'the rest of them'? You have to learn a few things about discretion from your dearest elder brother!
"Well, your cousin Fitzwilliam is also in London, according to your brother and so is Richard. The Filmonts would be in their most part, still in the country, although Mama has told me that Louisa went abroad with a sister of Sir Timothy's...Marianne is obviously honeymooning, and Cousin Charles is shooting with a friend. That leaves my aunt, uncle, and dear little Etty as the only inhabitants of Linton Park...Oh! And Meg is in Somerset...With Aunt Kitty and Uncle Fawley! Cousin John is Town, though."
Elizabeth happened to involuntarily glance at William and saw that he was blushing in some mortification (because of her obvious needling in regards of Margaret), but that he was also trying not to laugh. Apparently, the whole point of her purposedly mindless chattering had greatly amused him! She looked at her uncle and aunt, but they were absorbed in a conversation of their own and had not witnessed it. Bennet, however, was frowning.
"I hope Aunt Kitty and Uncle Fawley are in good health." Bennet said lamely.
Oh, please!
Elizabeth had missed Bennet over the months they had spent apart. In spite of her trifling with him into being desperate for news from Margaret, she knew now that it was only a matter of his riding to Somerset and proposing to her. Why else would he be so insistent of hearing news from her while not directly asking her, as if it were a wrong thing to do? Perhaps if he did get on that horse and ride out to do what was correct, all would be all right and they could go back to how things were before under the circumstances.
She made plans to spend the day with him, though, more for her own indulgence than for his peace of mind. Over the time they spent in the drawing room chatting later the previous evening, she had realised how much she had missed his humour and his demonstrations of brotherly affection toward her. He had mussed her neatly arranged locks, kicked her under the table later pretending like he had done nothing, and made his usual pert and ironic comments. He was capable of making any awkwardness between them disappear instantly with ready good nature. Elizabeth did not know how he did it, but he managed to shake any kind of uneasiness that might have developed between himself, his brother, and her.
She did notice that he tried to monopolise her from his brother, though, as Elizabeth now found herself given to tease William mercilessly. In her good spirits that evening, she had entertained them to full extent, often throwing them both into humorous conflict. At one point, however, the conversation had taken a rather serious turn.
"Well, Beth, I see you and my brother have become quite the pair these last two days." He said as if William was not in the room. "Tell me, was it your common love for boring books or the fact that you are just charitable with those of lower mental capacities?"
Elizabeth found herself blushing at the look William acquired on his face when looking at her. She smiled at him shyly, eyes trapped into gazing into his. She squirmed in her seat like a misbehaving child and looked down at her skirts, smoothing an imaginary crease there and then moving on to look at her fingernails.
"Maybe she was just tired of your Highbury tales, as Father would say." William said with a smirk, not taking his eyes off of her.
Bennet looked at her with a strange look on his face. "Well, now you have the advantage of boasting to the young misses in London that you hold the heirs of Pemberley right in the palm of your hand."
Elizabeth peeked at the corner of her eyes at William and saw that he was no longer looking at her.
"Why should I not?" She managed to ask when she saw that both brothers were glaring at each other. "We are all cousins, for starters. I have the honour of being your parents' only godchild, and I was born just down the hall!"
She could not help feeling that Bennet had been jealous of her recent befriending his brother. But why would he feel so threatened? He had been plainly interested in hearing of Margaret during dinner, so why was he on edge? Plus, he probably knew his brother had proposed to her. Was that it? Was he concerned for what may come of a friendship between them?
It occurred to Elizabeth, later on, that Bennet had been merely looking out for her, like he would were he her brother instead of William's. Why he would deign himself in protecting her from his own flesh, she had no idea, but she presumed that William had told him about his proposal. Why would he deign himself to protect her from his own flesh?
So her plans consisted of riding, fencing, and a billiards tournament like the ones they held at Wragby when he and Margaret would visit. That would put Bennet at ease and she could make sure that he knew that William had obviously forgone any designs he had on her. She knew that he would not refuse, because those activities were the ones that he liked the most and his restlessness would prove itself with the mere idea of the proposition. She put on a simple light blue dress, had her hair caught in a net, and then bounded to Bennet's quarters to invite him out, much like she had done when they were children.
She had not yet turned into the hallway that led to Bennet's room, when a servant intercepted her in the way.
"Miss Bingley," the shy young woman said, "there is an express post for you."
The small envelope was being held out in a platter and she took it, frowning. Who could be sending her an express to Pemberley? Only few people knew she was there.
"Thank you." She mumbled while she checked the sender's address. She did not even see the maid curtsy at her before leaving. "It's from Wragby!"
Fussing to open the envelope, Elizabeth distractedly made her way to the library to read what her parents had to tell her so urgently.
Chapter 35
Elizabeth put her father's missive down and then instantly put out a hand to steady herself on the window sill. She was so familiar with the view from the window and it looked exactly like it always did. Butterflies flew around her aunt's roses like they always did after it rained, as if nothing had changed in their lives. The sun shone irrepressibly and Elizabeth thought that was most unfair. It was unfair that her sorrow should be lit with such wonderful weather when everything was supposed to be dark and horrible.
The weight in her chest was so heavy that it choked her.
Breathe, Beth.
She did breathe. When it came out, it did so in an errant manner. She felt a presence behind her and closed her eyes as someone put a hand on her shoulder. It was the first time he ever really touched her ever since dancing in Hertfordshire. She was too caught up in her own hatred for him then to even notice exactly how good it felt. She involuntarily shivered and blushed, but masked it with a hiccup.
"Elizabeth..."
She felt her eyes water gradually. "Grandmamma is...She-"
"I know. An express arrived this morning. Mother wanted to wake you, but Father thought it was best not to. We only knew - I only realized that my uncle might have written to you as well when I saw Sarah delivering the express. However, I would have thought that he would have written it to us all instead of addressing it just to you."
She raised her misted eyes to him, her stomach so knotted she could barely draw breath again.
"He did. He addressed it to me, but he wrote it to everyone." She said softly. "I think that in his distress, he addressed it to me unknowingly."
She frowned, trying to squelch the tears that were rising slowly, trying hard not to cry in front of him.
William turned her around by the shoulder he still had his hand on. She looked up at him through her tears and saw a genuinely concerned expression on his features. She just stood there, staring at him with red eyes and feeling her bottom lip quiver like a child's.
"There, there..." He said with a sad smile when she slightly gasped to control a coming sob, "you should sit down. You are all flushed!"
She felt faint, so there was no reason to refuse his suggestion. He took her hand in his and led her away from the window. Picking up the letter she still clutched and dropping it on the first piece of furniture available. She followed him quietly to a love-seat, where he sat next to her, still holding her hand and rubbing her fingers gently as to soothe her. He handed her his handkerchief and she wiped her eyes on it with her free hand, unaware that he was gazing at her intensely but hopelessly not knowing how to make her feel better.
To William she looked so vulnerable, so utterly frail and childlike, the protectiveness he had for her emerged in full force. However, he was so overwhelmed by the feeling, he did not quite know what to do.
Even though she was supposed to be thinking of her grandmother, Elizabeth could not help but be self-conscious enough to realise that maybe he thought that her weeping was out of guilt and not of grief. Was not she the one that seemingly prayed that Mrs. Bennet stop harassing her regarding her manners and marriage in a most atrocious and improper manner?
Her subsided sobs returned with full-force at the thought.
He probably despises me.
Frustrated, Elizabeth somehow forgot that the object of her thoughts was before her and let out a frustrated groan.
"Oooh... Why do I have to be so..." The rest of her sentence was muffled, due to her eventually burying her face in the handkerchief.
"What did you say, Elizabeth?" He asked tremulously.
She lifted her face from the drenched piece of linen and burst out in one long and tearful monologue, filled with sobs and hiccups in between which phrase.
"Why does she... Does she have to be gone now? And to think...To think... That she died without my...Without seeing me married...I wish I could have been married so she could have seen me...I was always so cruel...So cruel...Making jokes and acting like such...Such a pathetic child..."
Perfect. Make him think that indeed you are just feeling guilty! She thought bitterly. You are one tremendous disaster!
She peered at him through her lashes and saw that he was smiling mildly at her, shaking his head slowly.
"Shhh...No, you were not." He said candidly, while taking both her hands in his. "You always took it all so good-naturedly and humorously...It was...It was one of the things that I admired about you..."
He averted his eyes from her for a moment at the confession and went on. "...I always admired how you were always so unfazed regardless of what she said, especially rushing you into marriage. Because you knew that deep down she was only motivated by love and caring. If she did not care for you, she would not be on her way, introducing you to Mr. Thorntons and Earls and Viscounts of what-not..."
This extracted a small smile from her, but Elizabeth mainly just stared at him, eyes red and swollen from crying, handkerchief all wet in the hand that was now within his scalding warm ones, amazed at her stupidity in ever thinking that the man before her was a heartless insufferable imbecile. His brandy eyes were filled with warmth as they watched hers, bearing into them with such intensity and such tenderness, her mouth dried. They sat like that for an eternity, staring into each other's eyes, completely lost, until the library door was flung open and in came Bennet, frazzled, somber, and frowning.
Both William and Elizabeth jumped apart, one going redder than the other.
"I heard sobbing...." And then he suddenly paused and looked accusingly at his elder brother. "You told her!"
"No, I did not!" William replied while trying to hide his blushing. "Uncle Bingley sent an express which was delivered to her."
"Oh, dear God." Bennet uttered as Elizabeth rose slowly from her place, wiping her eyes and rosy cheeks. "Are you all right, Beth?"
"What do you think?" She angrily demanded, sticking her bottom lip out.
No need to snap at Ben, Elizabeth! He is only concerned.
"Of course you are not..." He said quietly, looking down at his feet.
Elizabeth, not able to help herself, began sobbing once more and walked into Bennet's waiting arms. William watched it all, trying to squelch his jealousy as he saw Bennet looking at him over the girl's head. With his teeth gritted, he got up from the love-seat and left the library, trying not to look back on the scene.
After Elizabeth had calmed down, Bennet was able to convince her to go down to the breakfast room, where her uncle and aunt awaited her. She nodded her understanding and accepted his arm, leaning on it rather than just properly taking it. They walked into the room together, Elizabeth still clutching William's handkerchief.
"Oh, Beth..." She heard her aunt say.
Mrs. Darcy appeared from behind the vase that stood next to the door, eyes visibly fresh from weeping, countenance stern and comforting. She took her out of Bennet's hold gently, embracing her tightly, as if to squeeze the tears out of Elizabeth's hiccupping form. William was sitting in an armchair near the window, looking utterly somber, and Mr. Darcy was idly standing, watching the women on with a sad gaze and a furrowed brow.
"I am so sorry, Aunt Lizzy." Elizabeth muttered.
"We all are, dearest. We all are."
With a single swift motion, Elizabeth pulled away from her aunt and wiped away her tears, looking at her aunt seriously.
"Are we all headed to Hertfordshire?"
Mrs. Darcy nodded. "That is where she should be taken to."
"Do we leave immediately? Should I tell Joan to start packing my trunks?"
"I already did that."
"We leave tonight, Beth." Said her uncle. "Bingley is opening Netherfield and is expecting us tomorrow morning. Come, lads, let us leave your mother and your cousin alone. I need your help on overseeing details."
William heard his father's predicament of how they were about to travel and instantly felt his heart contract. Mr. Darcy felt that Elizabeth had to travel with his sons in order to be comforted by them and not by her grieving aunt. Mrs. Darcy had been going in out of stupors that would hardly be helpful. William closed his eyes slowly. What was meant to comfort Elizabeth was going to turn his reality into something infernal. He would have to sit through every single mile to Hertfordshire watching Bennet wipe Elizabeth's tears, give him his handkerchief, offer her his shoulder, hold her hand, and generally soothe her grief all by himself.
Feeling like kicking himself in the head over his own selfishness, William kept thinking that he could not shake himself out of it by any means. He was not going to be able to see her satisfied in his brother's company, no matter how many times he told himself that their closeness was the equivalent of his and his Welland cousins'. That Bennet's holding her was like his rocking Kate's weeping body as she mourned Lennox that dreadful spring. He wanted to be the one holding her, hearing her breathing slowly calm itself against his chest, as he spoke to her the words of comfort and love that had been crushed in his lips during those moments in the library.
Horrified, William realized that he dwelled on his jealousy more than he grieved his grandmother. That he went on and on in his head about his love for Elizabeth rather than sympathizing with the family.
"You are one blasted idiotic selfish bastard, Darcy." He muttered against the hand he had his face propped on, while fighting the lump in his throat. "Just as she thinks you are."
Chapter 36
Clouds were hovering intensely over them when Elizabeth, cloaked and dressed to travel, stepped out of Pemberley manor and watched as the servants loaded the carriages with the Darcys' and their guest's luggage. The whole bustle distracted her from her thoughts, as she stood there in the cold breeze, silent, grieving, and utterly still.
William had not said much to her after he had left the library. She had been so lost crying into Bennet's shoulder that she did not even notice when he was gone. If he had not been in the breakfast room, she would have never realised he had left, and for that she felt stupid. How inconsiderate of his assistance she had been! And since now he avoided her as if she had the plague, she was not able to apologize to him, let alone thank him.
"The weather is going to be a problem indeed." She heard her uncle say as he stopped next to her.
"Yes."
"Though we can barely think of the weather in such circumstances." She heard William amend as he approached them. "Cohen said the carriages are all loaded, Father."
"Good, good. I am going to fetch your mother and that brother of yours. Hand Beth into the carriage, will you, son."
Elizabeth looked at William, but he was not looking at her. She tried hiding her face into the hood of her dark blue cloak, but only managed to loosen it over the charcoal-coloured shoulders of the only dress she could find fitting for mourning.
"Oh!" She cried, when the piece of clothing suddenly began to fall open and to slip from her shoulders and down her back.
She blinked in surprise when William grabbed the strings and quickly tied the cloak rigidly back on.
"Thank you." She said in a low voice, shivering his hand accidentally brushed her face as he pulled it away from her.
He only curtly nodded. "Come."
Without even offering his arm, he walked her to the carriage and only then put out his hand. She took it, grasping it, then stepped on board of the vehicle and dropped into one of the leather seats, making herself comfortable by the window.
"You are not coming in, sir?" She asked shyly.
William blinked. "No. I have to - Excuse me."
Less than a minute later, Elizabeth heard Bennet shrieking as if he were a crazy mamma.
"No, sir, you are not riding! You will get into that carriage not even if I have to beat you up to it!"
A slight scuffle ensued and then was followed by Bennet getting into the carriage quickly, dropping a pile of books by his side and somehow occupying the whole seat. Elizabeth eyed him oddly in his triumph and then a ruffled haired and hat-less William climbed in, scowling and scoffing. Elizabeth eyed the empty space next to her with some dread, even more so when William did the same and slowly sat down.
"I apologise for Will there, Beth."
She dumbly nodded while William tried to relax into his seat and leaned his head back closing is eyes momentarily.
"How are you feeling, Cousin Elizabeth?" He asked quietly.
"As well as I can under the circumstances, sir. Thank you."
"Are you in need of anything?"
"No, thank you, sir."
William pounded on the side of the vehicle for the coachman to start off. "It's time we set out."
The entire journey was silent. Bennet read, William slept under the brim of his hat looking like a little lad, and Elizabeth stared out of the window.
Grandmama is dead, mama and papa are miles away, Meg is still heartbroken and Bennet has stopped asking for her, William rightfully hates me... What else is to go wrong?
She looked sideways at William and saw that he had awoken and was staring out of his window as well. He looked distinguished, as always, but strangely enough, not aloof at all. There was a sadness that enveloped him somehow, giving him a tragic air. She involuntarily brought her hands together and had them clasped to one another in a way that reminded her of his grasp, even if his hands were endlessly larger than her.
He is entirely endlessly bigger than me. I feel so small next to him it quite frightens me.
She smiled bemused for a while, eyeing his long legs as they barely fit between the two seats the carriage afforded. Afraid that she might be caught staring, she looked away at the window.
How is it that when I finally begin to enjoy his company, I make a spectacle of myself and injure him by dismissing his attentiveness?
The whole situation brought up within her own mind made her eyes fill with tears. She tried wiping them, but the lump in her throat was so heavy, she began sobbing. She looked at Bennet, but he had fallen asleep in his reading and she was not about to shut William out again. So the only answer she found for her suffering was to try and diminish her crying quietly.
"Elizabeth?" She heard William whisper.
She turned and saw that he was looking at her in concern.
"Leave me be." She muttered and turned her head to the window, leaning her head on the hard wood.
She heard shuffling around and turned again. William had turned to window, but now he was only in his shirtsleeves. His jacket was lying on the seat next to her. She took it silently, managed a quiet thank-you, and pressing the jacket to her head against the wall next to her, fell asleep instantly.
The hand that was offered for her outside the open carriage door was not a servant's and certainly not her father's. Elizabeth took it in some confusion, but then felt a smile blossom in her face when she looked up and met sympathetic blue eyes gazing down at her.
"Henry! I am so glad you are here!" She said, throwing her arms about him.
"Really?" He asked sounding rather surprised.
"Oh, yes! You are one of the few people that manage to keep me sane!"
"I thought that was Meg's job..." And then smiled at her sympathetically. "You must be feeling awful."
"Yes...It was all so sudden."
Eyeing his cousins, Henry smiled mildly. "You must not have lacked gentlemen to comfort you, though."
She shrugged and then looked about for her father and mother. They were nowhere to be seen at all. "Have you seen my parents?"
Henry shook his head and put out his cigar on the ground be stepping on it. "I am afraid you are needed upstairs, so you should get going."
She nodded at him worriedly and scurried off, entering the house unnoticed. Inside there was a bustle, in the sort of frenzy she had never witnessed in her life. In the middle, was Mrs. Thompson, scolding a servant girl while two others cleaned up what looked like an overturned food cart. There was luggage all over the foyer, and footmen running around without carrying anything.
"Oh, Lord." She said, imagining her Aunt Lizzy carrying her luggage upstairs by herself while William and her uncle scolded in disapproval.
She ran her hand over her face. "Mrs. Thompson...Where are my parents?"
"Upstairs, miss. Your mother is indisposed."
"Have my aunt and uncle been taken to them?"
"Which aunt and uncle, miss? The Fawleys, the Claytons, or the Filmonts?"
Elizabeth closed her eyes. God help me, not the Filmonts...
"The Darcys."
"The Darcys are here!?"
How did you think I came!?
"Yes. They are. Mrs. Thompson...Get a couple of footmen to take this luggage upstairs. I suppose my father assigned the guests to their rooms already?"
"Yes, miss."
"And where are the guests?"
"In the front sitting room, miss."
She turned to a passing servant girl. "Rose! Get Cook to quickly have some more refreshments ready for the front sitting room, please? Take Gertrude with you."
The girl scurried off, calling out for Gertrude.
"You!" She cried out when she saw an idle footman walking around. "What is your name, sir?"
"Danielson, miss."
She smiled. "I am Miss Bingley...Now, you see, I have come with the Darcys and their sons. They are probably waiting for their luggage to be brought to their rooms. Could you do that, please?"
"Of course, miss."
"Oh! And have my luggage taken upstairs, too. I am sure Mrs. Thompson will tell you which chambers are mine."
"Yes, miss."
Elizabeth took a deep breath and eyed a forlorn Mrs. Thompson. Smiling candidly at the old woman, she gently patted her worn hands.
"I am sure you are doing the best you can, Mrs. Thompson. It must be impossible with these guests arriving one after the other and my mother not being available... Good work."
"Thank you, miss."
At that instant, the butler rounded them. "Miss Bingley?"
She turned around.
"The Collinses are here."
Elizabeth did not bat an eyelash, thinking of the infernal atmosphere a room with Lady Caroline and Mr. Collins would develop. "Send them into the back sitting room and tell them I will be with them shortly. I have to go to my parents."
The butler went off while Mrs. Thompson nodded and was making it to the front door when she turned around.
"Miss Beth?"
Elizabeth turned expectantly.
"You will be an excellent mistress one day."
"Thank you."
She smiled, turned around and ran to the stairs, nearly crashing into someone. She apologised without looking up and scampered up the steps breathlessly. William watched after her form with a smile on his face. How could he have ever thought her to be so unprepared to be the mistress of a whole estate? She was a natural, at best. With a few words and excellent thinking, she had managed to have servants who were not even around to be prompt and efficient.
I must tell Father that we should congratulate Uncle Bingley rather than reproach him. He thought, coming down the stairs in order to meet Henry outside.
Chapter 37
When the house was finally empty except for its guests, Elizabeth dropped into an armchair in the library, glad to have some time to be on her own. Since her mother was in no condition to assume her position as hostess, Elizabeth had to be the one to properly entertain their guests and oversee everything with little help from her father. Mr. Bingley was so worried for his wife's health, he barely came downstairs, and his sister-in-laws, who might have been great help to his daughter, were also concerned about Mrs. Bingley, not mention busy with funeral plans. There was no one there to help her, except Margaret who was so demure and inexperienced, that she gave out the impression she was rather frightened and was also too shook up about Mrs. Bennet's to lend a hand.
She snuggled into the leather armchair, slouching into the seat in a manner that would have her grandmother already rolling in her coffin, and smiled widely when Margaret Fawley entered the room.
"It does not matter what the circumstances are, dearest, I am always glad to see you."
Margaret smiled back at her, walking towards her and squeezing her hand. "I am glad to see you as well, Beth. I have missed you greatly."
"And how do you think I spent the last months?" She asked teasingly. "All this and no Meg to comfort me."
"Well, we are all together now." Said Margaret, and Elizabeth immediately caught her meaning.
"Yes. How - Have you -?"
"If you mean to ask me whether or not I have spoken with Bennet, the answer is no. He went straight to his chambers without a single word to me." She said while looking down at the carpet in front of her with her eyes filled with sorrow. "But it does not matter. It is time I learn that we are meant to be cousins only."
"Oh, but Meg! I am sure that he is just - "
"He avoided me, Beth. Do you need any more evidence of his disregard than that?"
"What if he was embarrassed?"
Margaret shrugged slightly. "It does not matter. I am not going to spend my grandmother's funeral dwelling on it. I want to be left in peace so I can mourn Grandmamma."
William stood next to his mother and father, hearing the service with his eyes glued on the casket before them. He had never been close to his grandmother, but seeing her other grandchildren honestly mourn her made him somber and regretful. No matter how overbearing and embarrassing Mrs. Bennet had been, she had still been the only grandmother he had ever known, and as he had found himself pointing out to Elizabeth that fateful morning, everything she did was out of love, even if she resorted to impropriety more than often.
He raised his eyes to look at Elizabeth, who looked as weary as he had ever seen her. She looked as if she had shrunk in two days, lost in the mourning dress and its full skirts, her eyes sunken in her face, but so bright from fresh weeping they were the most transparent ice blue. The desire to take her in his arms and comfort her was stronger now than it had been the day he had found her in the library crying. The anger he had initially felt at her for turning to Bennet had diminished and given way to the sense she now she was as far away from him as she could possibly ever be.
Little did he know that in Elizabeth's nervous fingers, his handkerchief was being twisted and turned repeatedly.
He kept watching her as she stood there with her right arm slung through the crook of Margaret Fawley's. His demure red haired cousin also looked worn out. Of all of people in their set, excepting Mrs. Bingley, Margaret seemed the one to be the most affected by their grandmother's sudden death. And Bennet, he thought with his jaw set, instead of comforting her as a way of trying to show her his affections, spent his time with the Curwood brothers and John Fawley instead of staying behind to be with her. He glanced at his brother next to him and saw somberness clouding the usual bright brown orbs he had inherited from their mother.
He raised his eyes again to look at the people standing on the other side of the casket and suddenly he felt himself falter. Standing there, dressed in a mourning dress, her brown hair hidden under a black bonnet was the woman who had proved to be his nightmare in the last few years. Fanny Pratt was there, tearless, serene, and obtusely superior-looking.
What is she doing here!? He scowled, feeling his blood run cold with hatred. Of course, she is here for Grandmother's funeral, after all, Aunt Hughes was not able to attend due to her illness. And Pratt is not with her. Wonders of wonders.
He felt livid and uneasy and then his stomach churned when he saw Elizabeth looking at the lady in question as well. He rubbed his temples slightly and shifted his weight, not knowing what to do to prevent himself from abusing Fanny with all the sorts of words he had learned from the older boys at Eton. Not only had she made his life absolutely infernal before, she had actually made the one woman who truly mattered to him despise him.
He felt a bolt run through his entire body when Elizabeth's blue eyes tore their gaze away from Fanny and met his. The eyes he so adored were filled with painful confusion and she nervously averted them to Mr. Clayton, who was delivering the service.
He bit his lip, still looking solely at the ground before him, and wished it all to be over.
"Dearest Beth! This is all so unfortunate!"
Elizabeth cringed at the voice and ran a hand at an imaginary crease in her dress. She put William's handkerchief away and tried to smile.
"Mrs. Pratt! I thought..." Elizabeth's eyes lowered themselves and found that Fanny did not seem to be expecting at all.
"Oh," the woman said, averting her eyes, "I...I am afraid that I had a miscarriage about a month ago. Robert was devastated."
And you were not!?
"Oh, I am so sorry...How you must be feeling..."
"No, no, dear, I am all right. Although it disturbs me that you are being so formal. I would have imagined we were on friendlier terms, Miss Bingley. We are cousins, after all..."
Elizabeth felt ill at the notion that she had never before seen how artificial Fanny's friendly tones really were. She could not quite conceive her own stupidity in not only trusting this woman, but also believing her stories. It felt as if someone had unveiled Fanny Pratt and Elizabeth now saw before her a deceitful, scheming woman, who lived in a loveless marriage and saw as an escape the manipulation of feelings of others. How blind was she?
Well, Beth, you were blind about all sorts of things. She thought bitterly, looking sideways at William as he walked to a carriage with his parents.
She smiled forcefully at the lady before her, thinking of a reply, but getting none into her head.
"Ah! There you are, Beth!" It was Henry, hat still in hand from the funeral. "Mrs. Fawley and Mrs. Clayton are looking for you."
"Thank you, Harry." She turned to Fanny and curtsied. "Mrs. Pratt."
After she left, she heard Fanny ask Henry after they greeted each other properly. "Miss Bingley seems greatly affected by Grandmother's death. She is most changed from the last time I saw her."
"Oh, she is indeed changed. But I have no idea of the reason behind such transformation."
Dinner at Netherfield that evening would have been a silent, somber affair, if Lady Filmont would only stop mentioning that in London or Sussex, such a service would never have been delivered as it was. Elizabeth, head hidden in the process of eating what had been put in her plate, muttered and admonished silently. Apparently her aunt had no sense of decorum and to her it did not matter that the local parishioner was her hostess' own brother. It was her luck that the Claytons had refused their invitation to dine with them - she could not have borne having to look at Mr. Clayton and see mortification on his face.
"...So poorly written. I believe that Mrs. Bennet deserved much better than this. I told you, Jane, that our parishioner Mr. Seldon was at your disposal. He would no doubt have come up with finer, more sophisticated words."
Oh, shut up!
Elizabeth had to restrain herself from actually retorting to her aunt, for she could not vex her parents. Not when her grandmother had been recently buried and her mother was so vulnerable. If her aunt was not able to perceive that she was greatly distressing Mrs. Bingley, she was not going to be the one to make it worse by being ruthless.
"Mr. Clayton was Grandmother's son and she was very fond of him, just as she was of every son-in-law she ever had. He was the only parishioner capable of delivering the service this morning, as he was the only parishioner who really knew her!" Came the firm reply from across the table from her.
Elizabeth raised her eyes abruptly in surprise and met William's incensed ones after the stream of words left his mouth. She smiled in gratitude at his readiness to defend her mother from any more embarrassment and their uncle's reputation. His eyes softened when he looked at her, making her fidget in her chair like she always did when he gazed at her so intensely, but even if his eyes were looking at her so, tonight they bore something that told her that she need not thank him and that she would always be welcome.
If Lady Filmont was disconcerted, such condition did not last long. Her eyes narrowed themselves down to slits as she perceived William and Elizabeth's exchange.
"Now, pray, Eliza..." She said suddenly. "Who was that girl in the mourning dress who looked remarkably like Mrs. Hughes?"
Elizabeth froze. How had that woman got hold of such information? Her eyes darted to her aunt's shrewish blue orbs studying her over the glass of red wine. She looked at both William and Bennet and saw that only William seemed aware of who was the topic of conversation. Bennet seemed to be eating nonchalantly and unaware, until he cautiously looked up at his brother. Apparently, he had also seen Fanny during the service. She felt her blood run cold, waiting with sick expectation for one of the Darcy brothers to speak.
"Of whom do you speak, Caroline?" Mrs. Darcy asked.
"Oh, that girl Bessie was chatting with after the funeral. She is obviously a member of the family. She reminded me of all of you Bennets when you were younger."
"That, I believe," said Mr. Bingley, much to Elizabeth's surprise, "was Lydia's eldest daughter."
Bennet was about to open his mouth to speak when Elizabeth suddenly leaned forward in her seat.
"Mama, can I ring for dessert? I have a craving for sweets."
Everyone looked at her as if she had gone out of her senses, but she managed such a pitiable face, Mr. Bingley smiled at her sympathetically.
"Of course, dearest."
It was William's turn to look at Elizabeth with grateful eyes when they both perceived that Bennet had resumed eating. What they both did not notice was that the young man was smiling slyly as he did so.
Chapter 38
The next morning, Elizabeth found herself in the stables with her father. Rather than stay with the women and talk over needlework, she felt the need to get out of the house and breathe some fresh air. Mrs. Darcy had been the first to understand her craving and while Lady Caroline belted out an entire speech on how inappropriate it was for Charles's daughter to go roaming the countryside with the family men "in the manner of an ill-bred country girl", the Mistress of Pemberley approved and reinforced her point.
"I do not see why she has to stay confined, if it comforts her to go riding with the lads, Caroline. This is obviously a difficult time for us all and if I had not other obligations, I would go myself." This meaning that she needed to stay with Mrs. Bingley.
"How really bad is Mama, sir?" She asked as her father handed her on the horse. While taking care of the house, Elizabeth had little time to check on her mother's health and when she did, the older woman seemed always to dissimulate her condition.
"She is coping, of course. Yesterday she told me that she is sad Lydia could not be here. It proves how important your aunts are to her. That is why I am taking every man out of that house. She needs to be alone with them."
Upon Elizabeth's concerned expression, Mr. Bingley clarified himself. "You are to come with us because you are in need of comforting yourself and staying locked up inside will not help any."
She tightly smiled, even if she knew that her grief was becoming less and less something to be desperate over. She could not tell what had comforted her so quickly, but she was aware that there was something in her that was rescuing her from grieving so hard as to think of nothing else.
They reached the rest of the family. Mr. Darcy, Mr. Fawley, Mr. Clayton, and Sir Timothy were all there, as were the lads in the family, all on horseback. They pretty much grinned when they saw whom Mr. Bingley was bringing with him, side saddling a black stallion and in an improvised mourning riding habit.
Mr. Bingley looked at his daughter and smiled at her reassuringly, as if she had a reason to be scared of the group of armed men, surrounded by hounds, and ready to shoot anything that flew over their heads.
"I am well, Papa." She said quietly.
"I know, dearest. We must all find a way to comfort ourselves doing something we like, do you not think? And I know how you enjoy shooting."
"Aye, Beth is a great shooter and we are all grateful that with her talent and her temper, you keep your shotguns well guarded, Uncle." Said Bennet with a saccharine smile in her general direction.
Elizabeth took an extra shotgun from John Fawley and threatened to hit Bennet over the head when the men openly laughed at his comment.
"See!?" Bennet said, brown eyes bright from teasing her.
Elizabeth whacked him over the head with her hand, sending his hat off.
"Beth! Is that proper behaviour!?" Her father cajoled.
She glanced sideways at William, feeling her cheeks go aflame in embarrassment.
Yes, that is the way to do it. Behave like the child you used to be! How very mature!
"Sorry, Ben." She mumbled.
She turned to look at him and saw that he was looking at her with considerable surprise. Were they in past times, Bennet was sure she would have stomped over his foot and asked her father what the matter was with infuriating nonchalance.
"Stop acting like a girl, Beth!" He said, eyes widened and then turned to Richard and Charles. "Next thing we know she will be tantalised by fabrics and cloths in the shops!"
She only shot him a sweet smile while riding off. "Where is Harry, by the way?"
Indeed, she thought, puzzled. Henry Curwood was nowhere to be seen and neither had he been present at the breakfast table.
"He is gone to Meryton. Had to get new horseshoes with the smithy." Richard replied.
"He is just afraid of the birds." Said William, laughing as he trotted his horse towards the rest of them. "Ever since he got bit by Mr. Carlyle's duck at Pemberley."
They all laughed, except for Elizabeth, who sputtered in surprise. Did he never cease from amazing her? She watched him as he took off his hat and ran his hand through his curls, one hand firmly grabbing the reigns of his horse.
"Beth here once got chased by the geese at Glassborough, but that never stopped her from wanting to learn to shoot." Said John. "I suppose she is more inclined towards revenge than Henry."
Elizabeth blushed hotly as Bennet took his turn at dislodging her hat by swatting it off from the back of her head.
"And so am I!" He said, as she made a grab for it before it flew off out of her reach. "Poor Betsy. Chased by the geese."
Hearing that, she took off in full gallop much to the chagrin of the gentlemen. Riding like a madwoman, she would probably scare off all the birds. Not that she cared. She sometimes took pity on the poor innocent things.
"Well...Thanks to Beth, the fowl population of Hertfordshire all migrated to Scotland." Said Bennet over tea much later that day, when they had filled the sitting room joined by the rest of Netherfield's young inhabitants.
Margaret laughed over the roll she was taking to her mouth, and Elizabeth made a face at her, catching William's amused look at her as he stirred his tea, leaned on the mantle. She blushed and hid behind her cup and saucer, but would not take the image of those laughing dark eyes from her mind. He had just ridden back from the stables and was still quite flushed, his eyes bright from the exercise. Standing there, he looked the entire opposite from what he usually looked like. Reserved, collected William, who sought refuge in the library behind books that were so thick, she had to make an effort to lift them.
I should not be surprised. I saw him right after he had jumped at the pond at Pemberley...
But for some reason, Elizabeth could not bring herself to take her eyes off of him.
She tried to set her mind on other matters such as Bennet and Margaret and the friendly terms they were on at present. It quite surprised her, as Bennet had been acting coldly toward their cousin on the day they arrived. But then the funeral came and Margaret looked in need of cheering up. Bennet filled that position admirably, shaking the older girl out of the misery she was in and making her green eyes overflow with mirth over whatever he said. Bennet was being himself and through that, he was turning Margaret into what she had been, making the shadow of a girl Elizabeth had had to learn to live with disappear to give enough room to a person who smiled and even laughed.
It does not match her mourning clothes, but I do not care one bit.
Bennet and Margaret were so lost to each other that they did not pay attention to anyone else in the room. Elizabeth placed her empty cup on the saucer and put it on the large tray of refreshments she had ordered to the room when they had arrived from the outing. She raised herself from the armchair she was in and curtsied to the presents.
"I have to go make arrangements regarding dinner...Excuse me." She curtsied and was walking out when she suddenly turned to Bennet, who was sitting close to the door and inquired. "Did I just sound like someone responsible?"
Margaret, laughing still, got up. "I will come with you, Beth."
William watched Elizabeth go with Margaret on tow with amusement and admiration in his eyes. Even though she was proving herself as practical as any dutiful hostess in her mother's indisposition, there was still a shadow of the girl he had fallen in love with. The one that laughed at life's little ridiculousness with so much ease, that she herself was the subject of her humour. And while handling everything with so much input and dedication, she still looked fresh and beautiful, especially when his eyes met his without their previous load of anger. Even if they had been quite a sight in such condition, he could not help but admire the sly teasing, kind Elizabeth Bingley even more than he did before.
Louisa Filmont's high-pitched voice brought him out of his reverie.
"How disagreeable Bessie looks. It must be all that riding. To go shoot with the men! What an idea! But then it surely is no surprise considering that kind of conceited independence she has. I absolutely abhor women who fancy themselves superior because they think they can do as they please."
Everyone in the room looked at Louisa rather baffled by her open insult to their hosts' daughter. Even Richard and Charles, who had been entertained with cards turned to look at her with astonishment. Bennet at first scowled, but then turned expectant eyes on the mantelpiece, waiting for something to come from that general direction that might rescue his best friend from such abuse.
William's eyes set themselves in the half-full teacup in his hands for a moment and then looked up at Miss Filmont, much to the lady's delight.
"I find such activity to be enhancing to any young lady's character. I would find myself disapproving of her had she stayed inside gossiping over needlework instead of doing what she craved the most and coming out with us."
William looked at his brother and then realized that Margaret had stayed in as well, probably in Louisa's company. He turned his eyes to the young lady and received an understanding look.
"Well, but did she not look ill? And to think she is a reputed beauty!"
"She is one of the most beautiful young ladies of my acquaintance!" William said hotly without even blinking.
At that precise moment, in utter synchronization, Elizabeth walked into the room once again and Bennet choked on his tea. Her eyes absently wandered towards William, wondering why he was looking down at his feet in a flustered manner. She then turned to look at Bennet and perceived that her cousin was in the middle of a coughing fit.
"Oh, I see the poison I put in your tea is working, Ben." She said, eyebrows arched. "Did I miss much of the conversation?"
Bennet then lost the grip on his teacup and it skidded back onto the saucer, spilling the liquid all over his hand.
"You will not guess how much." Bennet said, his voice hoarse as he tried to wipe off the damage with his handkerchief.