Chapter Thirteen

Posted on Wednesday, 2 November 2005

When he awoke the next morning, Darcy could think of nothing else but the completely astounding occurrences of the evening before – not the least of which was the fervent kiss Miss Bennet had pressed upon his lips, and the feel of her body against his. The annoying truth was that the kiss overpowered his mind more than anything else. It was better than he had ever imagined a kiss could be.

He shook his head to clear it of the bewitching memory and tried to concentrate on the surprising revelation of Miss Bennet’s love for him. He would never have expected it in a million years, the way she always looked upon him with such scorn and derided him with her spiteful tongue. He paused in contemplation, suddenly realising that she had not always been scathing and malicious. He had only expected her to be so, and had interpreted her every action that way. He who prided himself with his discernment. He almost felt a tinge of regret for his harsh words, and then he remembered Wickham’s warnings. Miss Bennet was a manipulating minx, and she was attempting to use all her arts upon him – for what reason he was unsure – but probably to twist his heart about her finger and then discard it – after she had gained his fortune, of course.

Darcy jumped from his bed and dressed hurriedly, promising himself that he would not be affected by such contemptible machinations. When he arrived at the breakfast table only his cousin was in the room. The colonel eyed him quizzically.

“How went it last night?” He smirked at the less than exquisite appearance Darcy presented.

“I would rather not say.”

“Do not tell me she rejected you!” cried his cousin in mock alarm.

Darcy was goaded into saying what he had never intended his cousin to discover. “She accepted me all right, but I did not offer for her.” He had the pleasure, at least, of seeing Colonel Fitzwilliam dumbfounded for once.

“But . . .”

“Did you really think I would ask her to marry me? I’d as soon marry Anne.”

“But . . .”

“I admit that I behaved badly – I was so angry with her heartless interference regarding Bingley and her sister that I did not phrase my accusations quite clearly. She mistook them for an avowal of my love.”

The content of this statement and the expression of revulsion upon Darcy’s face caused the colonel to explode into paroxysms of laughter. “You never were too eloquent when overset,” he finally managed to gasp out, “but that takes the cake.” He took his handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped his streaming cheeks. “Does this mean I am to wish you joy?”

“After a rather embarrassing moment I managed to bring her to understand my true purpose in calling upon her. No banns need be proclaimed in church on Sunday.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam sobered. “Poor Miss Bennet.”

“Perhaps this will teach you to play matchmaker!” said Darcy and he left the room without having eaten a bite.

Lizzy was walking back and forth in a sort of a grove at the edge of Rosings Park, hoping that Mr Darcy would come her way. She had no desire to see him again – not after the severe mortification of having revealed herself to him – but she needed to get a letter into his hands, and she could trust nobody to deliver it for her.

After Charlotte had accompanied her to her bedchamber the night before, she had revealed just enough to let her friend know the sort of a disaster that had transpired. She had not told her about the kiss, though. That was just too scandalous to disclose. The memory of it caused her to shake all over, and that was not solely due to the humiliation she felt. There was also the memory of the feel of his lips upon hers, the strength of his body as she leaned against it, and the fragrance that was his and his alone.

When Charlotte finally left her to her solitary reflections, she realised that even though she would never have a hope of winning Mr Darcy’s affections, she could not bear the thought of him thinking so ill of her. She had no idea what terrible lies Mr Wickham had told him about her but she resolved to divulge the truth of their interactions to Mr Darcy. After what she had already made known of her feelings and the reckless kiss, her character needed to be reclaimed. Besides, if there was anyone who required his reputation blackened it was Wickham. She wrote into the night, blushing and blushing again at the words that came from her pen. What Mr Darcy might think when he read them caused her to redden all the more.

Lizzy had been in the grove for what seemed like an eternity when she finally spied Mr Darcy rounding a bend in the pathway ahead of her. He stopped abruptly and would have retreated but she called his name, and then waited for him to approach with her eyes downcast.

“Miss Bennet,” he said stiffly.

She held out her hand with the folded papers in it. She could not speak. Her eyes rested upon his muddied Hessians and all she had the power to think was that his valet would be very upset at their state. He took the paper from her hand, paused by her side another moment, and then wished her good day and left her with only the hint of his scent still lingering in the morning air beside her. She held her handkerchief up to her face and trudged back to Hunsford careless of any puddles. When she returned her kid boots were just as splattered as his Hessians had been.

“Why Lizzy!” gasped Maria when she saw her. “I swear your petticoats are a full six inches deep in mud. What have you been about? Oh, never mind! Do make haste and change – Mr Dalton will be arriving at any moment. You shouldn’t like him to see you in that state.”

“I shouldn’t like him to see me at all,” said Lizzy, brushing past her hurriedly and hiding her face. “Pray make my excuses to him.”

Maria looked after her as she climbed the stair and shook her head in confusion. Then she realised that standing in the open doorway would make her appear a little too eager and rushed back to the parlour. She had just settled into a chair and arranged her skirts prettily when Mr Dalton was announced, so she had no time to apprise Charlotte of Lizzy’s unusual behaviour. In short order his attentions made her forget it completely.

Darcy walked away from Miss Bennet in confusion. It had been a most unsettling encounter. He could have sworn she was the last person in the world that he had wanted to see, and yet he wished that she had said something rather than just look at his boots in deep disapproval. She had certainly been composed for a lady who had suffered such a severe rejection as he had handed her. He wondered what the note could contain and hoped it was not another insincere declaration of her love. That he could do without!

As he walked along he unfolded the sheets of paper. They were quite wrinkled and her penmanship left a lot to be desired. There were so many blotches he was sure she must have written the whole without mending her pen once. The two sheets were crossed with writing. He pondered what she could possibly have written that would demand so much space and hoped it was not a long and caustic diatribe against him. He decided that if it were he would not deign to read it. She had not dated it, but started boldly:

Be not alarmed, Sir, on receiving this letter, by the apprehension of it containing any repetition of those sentiments which last night were so disgusting to you. In fact I would like to take this opportunity to revoke everything that I said regarding any tender feelings I may have expressed, and especially repeal any actions that might be considered unseemly. Think of them as having never happened. I assure you that I do. In fact I would find the prospect of kissing you positively indecent so I am quite certain it could not have taken place. I am assured that you must feel the same.

The purpose of this letter is twofold. I would like to explain my position regarding my sister and Mr Bingley in a light that you may comprehend, and also to clear my character of whatever slander Mr Wickham importuned you with to discredit it. The former relies upon what I have to divulge about the latter.

As Mr Wickham no doubt has told you, his father was a knight who lost his money through dissipation and vice in your hallowed London society. This ruination at the hands of the dissolute rich ultimately led to his death. He had been a man of worth and honour before he was led astray. When Mr Wickham came to live in our home I was but a child, fully innocent and naïve and most ready to listen to accounts of the hardships he had suffered. To me he was as a wounded angel who had been denied his heaven upon earth and I worshipped him. I would have given anything to spare him any more hurt, and as it happened I was called upon time and time again to do just that. Whenever he had got himself into a scrape I protected him, stood up for him, took his blame. The years went by and my faith in him did not falter, though I ought to have seen through him. Some of the things I hid from my parents were most vile, but he always had me believe that all accusations against him were false. The world, it seemed, was set to conspire against him for the misdeeds of his father.

I grew to believe that I loved him. In my eyes he was all that was good and honourable, and any aberrations were due only to the torments that he suffered at the hand of others. He was not culpable. I would have lied for him. Stolen for him. Died for him. And then one day everything changed.

A little over four years ago Mr Wickham returned from a long absence. He had finished his studies and was to be made my father’s steward. He was more dashing and handsome than I had ever remembered. He looked so much the gentleman that I could not imagine him as a mere steward, and as it turned out he had no desire to become one. Instead he hoped to be adopted by my father as his own son and inherit Longbourn. I helped him to persuade my father and then Uncle Phillips was called to draw the papers up. The day before the papers were to be signed, while going down the servants’ staircase upon an errand, I came across Mr Wickham and one of the housemaids in a most compromising situation. Neither was properly dressed and I am sure that you will forgive me for not giving you any more details of the shocking scene I beheld. I cried out and ran from the house. I ran deep into my father’s fields to a coppice by the brook. Mr Wickham followed me.

By the time I reached the water I had come to the realisation that I had been deceived for years as to the man’s true nature. And worst of all I had helped him hide it from my father and all our friends and neighbours. I saw now that Mr Wickham was completely unworthy my family’s trust. He had come amongst us only to take what he could get and had never been motivated by any of the finer feelings, including love. I had never felt myself such a complete fool in my life – to have been taken in so utterly and for so many years. I cried bitterly over my shattered illusions, my ruined innocence. I vowed that I would never again love a man who exhibited the charms and social graces that Mr Wickham did, or belonged to that society that had destroyed the commendable father and created the dastardly son.

Mr Wickham came upon me soon after that. He had not even bothered to button his shirt, which was loose about his waist. I could hardly face him – not only for what he had done, but also due to his state of undress, which disturbed me greatly. At that moment I knew fear.

He was all soft words and sweet smiles. He told me the maid, Sarah, had tricked him into coming to her room, and then she had thrown herself upon him and torn open his clothes. I laughed in his face. He then grabbed my arm and said that I of all people should understand his needs. That I should know why he had fallen so low. He was desperate, he said. I was to become his sister and I was lost to him forever as a lover or a wife. He had to find consolation where he may – he was a man, after all.

These revelations appalled me even more than having seen him in that flagrant embrace with the maid. In my disgust I told him that he would never be brother to me if I had the power to prevent it. I tried to shake his hand off my arm, but he is much stronger than I. He pulled me roughly to him and said that he would have me after all – that I was only jealous of Sarah and that I wanted him just as much as he wanted me. He attempted to kiss me and I kicked him in the shin, and suddenly he crumpled to the ground.

My friend Charlotte had come up behind him and struck him in the head with a sturdy branch. She took me back to my room and as she soothed and comforted me I swore her to secrecy. I could not bear to tell my father how I had almost been compromised and all that I had done in the past to hide Mr Wickham’s faults from him. The shame was too great. I did, however, do my best to convince my father not to adopt Mr Wickham as a son. Sarah had confessed to Cook about having relations with Mr Wickham and was let go. My father, in an effort to hide that affair from the general knowledge of the neighbourhood, offered Mr Wickham a position as clerk with my uncle, but would no longer have him in the house. You know what happened after that – Mr Wickham left town and was not heard from again until he joined the militia.

If you doubt my word as to the veracity of this statement you may apply to Mrs Collins who is the only person other than Mr Wickham and myself, and now you, who knows all the particulars.

You might now be able to understand why I distrusted Mr Bingley’s attentions towards my sister. All I knew of gentlemen from London society was the lesson Mr Wickham taught me – it was a lesson that I took to heart most fervently and with good reason. If I have been wrong in this, and your friend does indeed love my sister and has honourable intentions towards her, I sincerely apologise.

I will only add, God bless you.

Elizabeth Bennet

Chapter Fourteen

Posted on Tuesday, 8 November 2005

Darcy read the letter at first with amazement at Miss Bennet’s audacity in thinking that with a few short words she could remove the stain of her aberrant behaviour of the night before. To say that the prospect if kissing him was indecent! To be sure, her forwardness was offensive but the idea of such a kiss must surely have been otherwise. It was almost as if he could still feel her lips upon his and the thought of it was not so much licentious as tantalising. It was impossible for him to feel as though it had not taken place and he wondered how she could wipe the act from her mind in such a manner.

Her contention that he was unable to comprehend her attitude towards Mr Bingley, and the reasons why she separated his friend from his sister, and that an explanation from her would miraculously make it all clear, was laughable. Did she think him deficient? His powers of reasoning were most acute and her prejudices painfully obvious. He was on the point of crushing the letter into a ball and throwing it into the nearest bush when his sense of justice stayed his hand. He certainly had no wish to read her petty excuses and faulty reasonings, but she had written the letter in a fit of distress which he was partially responsible for and it behoved him to hear her out. If he had expressed himself better at the outset she would never have been placed in such an embarrassing predicament.

Besides, he grudgingly had to admit himself intrigued. What had any of this to do with Mr Wickham? How could her history with him, and the way she had destroyed his prospects, legitimize her treatment of Bingley?

But as he read on, Darcy began to have serious doubts about the veracity of Wickham’s word. The relation of events bore an alarming affinity to Wickham’s own account of his dealings with the Bennet family, but exposed Wickham’s character in a much different light. Astonishment, apprehension, and even horror oppressed him. He could not help but cry, “This must be the grossest falsehood,” but he knew that what really angered him was how easily he had been taken in by a mere charlatan. He grew absolutely ashamed of himself. He could think of neither Miss Bennet nor Wickham without having it clearly brought home to him that he had been nothing short of blind, partial, prejudiced and absurd. What a blow to his vanity!

He wandered along the lane for two hours, reconsidering events and determining responsibilities. That she had loved him despite her now understandable aversion to anyone of his class! That he had thrown aside her declarations with such disdain and bitterness of spirit! How unfeeling and cruel he had been. When she deserved his compassion he had treated her with contempt. How she must despise him now!

He wanted to be able to lay the blame at someone else’s door. Caroline Bingley, for thrusting the girl upon him, George Wickham for ingratiating himself so successfully, Colonel Fitzwilliam for being so blatant as to set him completely against Miss Bennet just to be contrary. But most annoyingly, the truth was that the fault lay with him and him alone. He had taken great pride in the fact that though he and Miss Bennet had been thrown together so much of late he had withstood her many charms. But he had obviously not made his indifference clear enough to her. There must certainly have been something amiss with his behaviour.

Though this debacle had not instantly rendered him open to falling headlong in love with Miss Bennet, he had to admit that now he had a much better understanding of the extent of her attractions. One did not forget words of ardent love that easily. Especially when they were followed by such obvious signs of her affection. But the worst thing was that he had dashed her hopes and wounded her heart. It wasn’t his nature to encourage false hopes in any lady and he didn’t know now how to proceed once the damage was done. What could he possibly do to atone? And, more importantly, how could he ever face her?

Colonel Fitzwilliam dragged Darcy with him to the parsonage to say their adieus.

“How many times do I have to apologise for my interference?” asked the colonel. “It was well meant. Now I suppose you will settle for Anne.”

Darcy cringed at the thought. “Never. I will become a Benedictine monk first.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam grinned. “I’m afraid you are not far off that already. Twenty-eight and never been kissed!”

Darcy flushed to the roots of his hair and attempted to hide his florid complexion from his cousin by affecting interest in the ground at his feet. He knelt down and pulled a few pebbles from the dirt mumbling something about important geological specimens.

The colonel couldn’t be fooled that easily. “Why Darcy! I do believe you have been kissed! When did this event take place? Tell me all the particulars – you know that I have never kept any of my exploits from you.”

“Much to my disgust! Your bragging is worse than your constant bonhomie. I wonder how I ever put up with you.”

“Very well, if you refuse to tell me, I shall guess. I know it was not Caroline – she reserves such favours for me, and has assured me that I was her first.”

Darcy just rolled his eyes. For all the colonel’s talk he knew that Miss Bingley had been his cousin’s first too. First and only – but that still hadn’t spared him from repeated lovesick recountings of the event.

“I would swear it was not Anne, nor Miss Lucas – so that leaves only Miss Bennet and Mrs Collins. You have not been philandering with a married lady, have you?” The twinkle in Colonel Fitzwilliam’s eyes was much too bright, and though he fully expected Darcy to be annoyed with his teasing, he was not ready for the vehemence of his response.

“Just because I am a member of high society does not mean that I ascribe to any of the depraved behaviour that is in vogue with a certain set. I am a gentleman and have always comported myself as such! I will not have you slander my character in this way, nor cast aspersions on the behaviour of any of the ladies of our acquaintance. They are all of them nothing but what is good and virtuous!”

“Even Miss Bennet?” asked the colonel, acting on a hunch.

“Especially Miss Bennet,” cried Darcy and then he could have kicked himself because he realised he had just given all away.

Colonel Fitzwilliam smirked, but he sensibly forbore to pry anymore. He had received his answer, and though he did not completely understand how, in rejecting the girl, his cousin had managed to kiss her, he had to admire Darcy for his impudence. “Come then, I think you can still face her with impunity,” he said as he opened the parsonage gate. As Darcy hung back he added with frustration, “It is a matter of civility. Swallow your pride. I am certain she has had to swallow hers.”

And when they entered the parsonage they found that was indeed the case, but in swallowing her pride Miss Elizabeth seemed to have choked and was lying upstairs abed, indisposed. The rest of the company was seated in the parlour and rose upon their entrance. Darcy was certain that behind Mrs Collins’ polite exchange she was harbouring animosity towards him, and that Mr Collins was eyeing him with disapproval. It was a great relief when Mr Dalton arrived. His added presence removed the necessity of Darcy attempting to make conversation at all.

With the gentlemen gone from Kent, Lady Catherine sought to relieve her boredom by inviting the entire parsonage party to dine with her and Anne.

“I am most displeased,” said that great lady to Lizzy after dinner, as they were sitting down to cards in the drawing room. “I put considerable effort into finding you a beaux, and yet you did not take at all. Miss Lucas is being courted and well on her way to matrimony but you have been an utter disappointment. I do so pity your poor mama.”

Anne tittered and said, “You have never had to suffer in such a way, Mama dearest!”

Lady Catherine smiled gratefully at her daughter. “No indeed, my dear. Mr Darcy appears to be more in love with you than ever. He felt leaving Rosings most acutely! No one could ever say that you have not been dutiful.”

Anne patted her hair and smoothed her skirts. “I fear Miss Bennet’s problem has been that she set her sights too high.”

Lizzy felt all the colour drain from her face. Had Mr Darcy laughed with his relations about her behind her back? She had never thought him so cruel, so underhanded. Oh, how she wished she had shown more restraint!

Anne sat complacently, playing with her curls, her big, brown eyes willing Lizzy to give herself away.

“Indeed, as I said before, I have no wish to marry anyone,” she answered coldly.

Lady Catherine nodded at her daughter and then turned to Lizzy. “I had warned you that my nephews were not to be considered, but you insisted on throwing your cap at Colonel Fitzwilliam nonetheless. It was truly absurd but most amusing to watch!”

“Yes!” said Anne, looking more animated than Lizzy had ever seen her. “When you wore the paste emeralds to the ball to try and attract him I was almost in whoops of laughter.”

“There is no sense in your staying in Kent any longer,” Lady Catherine said, eyeing Lizzy with no small amount of ridicule. “You have disgusted all the gentlemen in these parts with your disdain. I suggest you leave at the soonest opportunity and try your luck in London. Surely your relatives in Cheapside should be an advantage in securing your place in society.”

Anne giggled so hard she began to hiccup. Lizzy couldn’t care less about their insults and insinuations. She only felt a surge of relief that Mr Darcy had not told them of her terrible faux pas.

“If you cannot make arrangements to leave earlier than planned, I can send you myself in my Barouche.” Lady Catherine’s condescension knew no bounds.

Mr Collins, who had missed most of the discussion whilst in close conversation with Anne’s companion, was suddenly nudged by his wife. His expression darkened as Charlotte whispered in his ear. He stood and addressed Lady Catherine with great dignity. “Cousin Elizabeth is welcome to stay at Hunsford as long as she likes, and when she returns to her family, I will take it upon myself to provide her with transportation.”

Lady Catherine’s eyes goggled out from her head and she began sputtering.

“It has been a pleasant evening,” continued Mr Collins while Lady Catherine sought to compose herself. “But you have delighted us long enough. We must be returning to the parsonage now before we lack the light to find our way home.”

“But we have not yet finished our game of cards!” cried Lady Catherine. “And Anne still has a minuet to perform. Stay – I can order the carriage later.”

But Mr Collins would not be swayed. Their goodnights were quickly said and soon they were on their way, walking briskly down the moonlit drive.

“I must apologise Lizzy,” said Mr Collins. “Lady Catherine has no right to patronize you in that manner.”

“It is of no account, Cousin,” said Lizzy. “I care about her good opinion even less than she cares about mine.” Her words were brave but her spirit was totally dejected. She had indeed set her sights to heights she had never intended nor imagined, and the fall had been very humbling indeed.

“Dearest Lizzy,” said Charlotte, at a complete loss for words. She still felt it deeply that she had been caught up in the colonel’s schemes and had encouraged Lizzy to such unwise aspirations. It was not that she no longer thought Lizzy worthy of Mr Darcy’s hand – quite the contrary. She now wondered how she had ever thought the moron good enough for her Lizzy. How dared he hurt her in such a way? Had he no concept of letting a girl down gently?

Lizzy and Maria stayed out their last week at Hunsford according to plan and did not return to Rosings again, which did not bother them in the least. Lizzy and Charlotte spent most of their time together in girlish pursuits and did not once mention Mr Darcy, or any other gentleman for that matter, aside from Mr Dalton.

Chapter Fifteen

Posted on Tuesday, 15 November 2005

When Darcy returned to London he visited Bingley at his earliest opportunity. The sight of his friend’s woebegone face caused all his animosity towards Miss Bennet to resurge. Miss Bingley took him aside before he had done more than greet his friend.

“I hear you made a rare bumble broth of it in Kent.”

Darcy had been expecting this. “That was your beloved’s doing, not mine.”

“You would have done well to accept Miss Elizabeth,” said Caroline. “She is really much too good for you.”

“I don’t understand how you can say that when the evidence of how her machinations have cut up your brother’s happiness are before you every day.”

Caroline sighed. “We must have misread Miss Bennet’s interest in us.”

“I have it on good authority that Miss Jane Bennet is just as distraught about the whole affair as Bingley.”

“She is?” Caroline’s expression changed from glum to eager. “Then Charles and I should hasten to Hertfordshire!”

“She has been in London these few months.” Caroline was about to rush over to tell her brother the good news when Darcy forestalled her. “Give me leave to tell him myself. Alone.”

Caroline hesitated, but Darcy pushed her from the room. She did not leave without a struggle.

Bingley was roused from his reverie by the slamming of the door and turning of the key. “Was I just dreaming or were you Greco-Roman wrestling with my sister?”

“She deserved it,” said Darcy, straightening his neck cloth and taking a chair opposite his friend. “She loves to meddle and her meddling only causes problems.”

Bingley sighed and looked into the fire. “How was Kent?” he asked without any real interest.

“Kent was as it always is. My aunt trying to bend the world to her will. Anne casting me amorous glances that only serve to make me nauseous. But it may interest you to hear that Miss Elizabeth Bennet was visiting in the neighbourhood with her cousin the parson, and his new wife.”

Bingley’s head shot up. “New wife! Please tell me it is not . . .” he was incapable of uttering another word.

Darcy took one look at his pathetic countenance and exploded. “No! He did not marry your angel, you great galoot. He married Miss Lucas. Jane Bennet is still free and as in love with you as ever, though why you deserve her love I have no idea – all you do is moon about like a lost puppy rather than do something about it! Do you think you are the only person with problems? Let me tell you about problems! Mr Collins was so good as to inform me that Miss Bennet is here in town and that her sister Elizabeth made sure to keep it a secret from any of us. I, in your behalf, took it upon myself to chastise Miss Elizabeth for her cruel scheming.”

“In London!” It was all Bingley seemed to have grasped.

“Yes! But fool that I am, and fool that she is too I must add, my manner of accosting Miss Elizabeth led her to suppose I meant to propose and she threw herself against me and kissed me.” It felt good to have said it – that might help purge it from his mind. But his next words proved otherwise. “Unabashedly. Flagrantly. Ardently.” He stopped and turned red as he wondered how depraved Bingley would think him.

“Miss Bennet kissed me too,” he whispered, his face reflecting the memory of the event.

“She kissed you too? Is she then so devoid of restraint? Of proper feeling?”

Bingley looked up at him in shock and Darcy quickly perceived his error. “It was Miss Jane Bennet who kissed you.”

“Of course! Though I did have to fend off Miss Lydia one afternoon in the lane.” He sighed. “Delightful family.”

Darcy saw his point – they did seem to distribute their kisses most freely. Before Bingley slipped further into the trance the recollection of Miss Bennet’s kiss had brought about, Darcy took him by the shoulders and shook him to his senses. “You must visit her at once! She is staying with an aunt and uncle upon the fringes of society in Gracechurch Street.”

“But . . . will she want to see me?”

“Did I not just say she is in love with you? Besides – she kissed you. Did you think she would have kissed you otherwise?”

“Well,” said Bingley blushing brightly, “it was actually my forehead she kissed. I had knocked it upon a hanging lantern and she wanted to make it all better.”

Darcy threw up his hands in disgust. If this was Bingley’s reaction to a kiss on the forehead, would one on his lips turn him into a quivering mass of aspic?

Elizabeth and Maria departed Hunsford. The journey was singularly uneventful and in four hours they were deposited at the Gardiner home where they were to remain a few days. Jane was looking worn to a frazzle from having to cater to the needs of the four boisterous children day in and day out. Mrs Gardiner wished that Lizzy would stay with them to take Jane’s place but the most she could get her to agree to was a trip with them to the lakes later on in the summer.

The following morning at breakfast time, Mrs Gardiner finally managed a few moments alone with Elizabeth.

“So, you will be taking our dear sweet poppet away from us. Oh! I will miss her so!” She dabbed at the corners of her dry eyes affectedly. “And before I have managed to marry her off too. We have had some very eligible prospects, and she, poor dear, did her best to attach them but it was painfully obvious that her heart was not in it. I do have hopes for Mr Enderby, though. He is a valiant trooper – ignoring her bouts of tears and resolutely staying by her side. If only she had more of a dowry I swear he would have popped the question two weeks ago. His first wife died in childbirth so he is in desperate need of a wife to be mother to his growing brood. And I have assured him that Jane is a wonder with children and very good at managing a budget, though I did stretch the truth on that assertion, to be sure. Jane would be likely to pay thruppence for candles not worth half a farthing. He was quite taken with the idea, though – so my little lie was to good advantage.” She smiled brilliantly at Lizzy, bursting with pride at her accomplishment.

Lizzy was aghast. “You cannot mean Jane to marry such a man! He would make her an unpaid servant in his household.”

“Marriage has its price my dear. Is it not a fair trade for the right to be called Mrs and not to be despised as a spinster, shunted from one family member to another without any means of support?”

“But Jane is so beautiful and good – she has no fear of that. She will marry well.”

“Lizzy – you must face the annoying truth of the matter. Jane is twenty-two – that is practically on the shelf. And she is in a serious decline. Her cheeks have lost their bloom – her looks are fast fading. She will be lucky to be married to a respectable clerk like Mr Enderby. Besides – is this not precisely what you asked of us?” Her rouged lips protruded in an exaggerated pout. “I expected you to be grateful for all your uncle and I have done on Jane’s behalf. It has been a very exhausting endeavour, I will have you know!”

“I have reconsidered since then,” said Lizzy hurriedly before real tears would start flowing down her aunt’s plump cheeks. “I now believe that Mr Bingley was truly in love with Jane and not out to besmirch her honour.”

“What? You cannot mean that! Why, only three days ago I sent the rapscallion and his snooty sister packing when they deigned to attempt to visit Jane.”

“You did what? Just over a week ago I was informed by Mr Darcy that his friend has been pining away for love of my sister.”

“I told them Jane was not at home to them and that they would do well to look elsewhere for their entertainment. What have I done? The gentleman has five thousand a year! His sister is one of the most admired hostesses in town! I could finally have had my feet upon the first rungs of high society – my future success would have been ensured. I lay it all at your door, Lizzy. You were the one that led me astray with wild talk of seduction and dissipation. I ought never to have listened!”

Mrs Gardiner’s laments did not end there, but Lizzy no longer heard them. All she could think was that she had certainly destroyed the happiness of her most beloved sister. After such a dismissal there was no way that Mr Bingley would ever consider Jane again.

It was the second week in May when the three young ladies left London and met up with Lydia and Kitty at an inn in a small town in Hertfordshire.

“Oh la!” cried Lydia as she dragged them all into a private parlour. “We have such a treat in store for you.”

Upon the table was such an array of food as left Lizzy speechless. Not only was there the expected salad and cucumber, dressed as only her sisters knew how, but also a cold collation and sweetmeats.

“We went down to that shop across the way before you arrived and Kitty almost spent all our money on the most hideous bonnet I have ever laid eyes upon. If I had not prevented her we should have only ordered half so much food, and you would have had to lend us the money to pay for it!”

“The bonnet was not hideous,” said Kitty. “You have two or three much uglier at home.”

“What does it signify?” asked Lydia as she stuffed roast beef into her mouth. “The militia will have left Meryton in a fortnight.”

“Speaking of the militia,” said Kitty, “We have the most delicious news about a certain person.”

“Sshh! Not before the waiter,” said Lydia in a loud whisper, then she stared at the man most significantly. When he had gone she giggled. “What a handsome fellow he is, and most helpful too.”

Kitty nodded her head. “Pity he is only a waiter, though flirting with him was rather fun.”

Lizzy cast her eyes up to the heavens. What had she ever done to deserve two such brazen sisters. “You were about to speak of news?”

“It is about Wickham,” cried Lydia triumphantly. “There is no danger of him marrying Miss King.”

Lizzy cringed at the mention of his name. “The danger was all hers.”

“Oh yes!” said Kitty. “That is why is so diverting that she eloped with Sanderson right under Wickham’s nose. And now he is trying to charm his way back into our good graces after giving us the snub royale for the past few months.”

“He has face and figure to rival the gods,” said Lydia, “but if he thinks we will come running because he has snapped his fingers he can think again. Kitty and I may be accomplished flirts, but we do have our pride.”

Kitty tossed her head in agreement. “We would never stoop to take the leavings of one such as Mary King, nasty little freckled thing!”

Upon arriving home Lizzy discovered that her mother and sisters were beleaguering their father to take them to Brighton. Even Mary seemed to be set upon the plan.

“I had not thought the officers meant so much to you that you would desire to follow them shamelessly about,” said Lizzy.

Mary blushed. “It is not for the officer’s sakes that I wish to go to Brighton,” she replied primly. “There is a very acclaimed lending library with the foremost collection of Gothic literature in the country.”

It did not take long for Lizzy to realise that a sojourn in Brighten was just exactly what her family needed, and she lost no time in persuading her father of that very fact.

“Consider father, Lydia will never be easy until she has exposed herself in some public place or other, and to do it with your eye upon her is better than if she were under the supervision of someone as devoid of sense as herself, like her friend Mrs Forster.”

“Do you not think she has had enough scope for that in Meryton?” Her father’s left eyebrow raised a fraction of an inch.

“Here she has barely any competition. There she will realise that her type of charm is all too readily available and she may learn more subtlety in her approach.”

Mr Bennet could not help but agree – still he was not completely convinced until Lizzy detailed how a little sea bathing would set him up, and most importantly, how the sea air would be beneficial to Jane’s lack of bloom. The fear of her lovely daughter going into a decline clutched at his wife’s heart, and he was not immune to the feeling himself.

I was not until the first week of July that the family made their boisterous way to Brighton, almost a month after the militia had stationed itself there most comfortably. Lydia and Kity would have been distraught at the wait were it not for the fact that they had been chosen bridesmaids by Maria Lucas.

In late June Mr Dalton and Maria were married from the old stone church in Meryton. Mrs Bennet bewailed the fact that Lady Lucas had married two daughters off before she had a chance to get rid of any. Lady Lucas smirked condescendingly as she described all the jewels and carriages her daughter would receive when Mr Dalton succeeded his father as squire.

Chapter Sixteen

Posted on Friday, 25 November 2005

Mr Bennet had leased a lovely summer cottage that looked out over the water. He had been lucky to get it for the full two months of July and August for accommodation was at a premium, given the amount of families with hopeful daughters who had followed the sun and the redcoats to this seaside locale. It was a tight squeeze for the boisterous Bennet family, used to the roominess of Longbourn, but it became even more cramped with the arrival of the Gardiners. It is true that Mr and Mrs Gardiner were taking Lizzy away with them, but in her place they were leaving their four young scallywags with admonitions to Kitty and Lydia to make sure the children did not drown themselves.

Kitty and Lydia only looked at each other and giggled. They had no intention whatsoever of going near the beach in the company of their cousins.

“Oh la!” said Lydia. “I am sure that between Jane and Mary they will be as safe as houses.”

Mr Bennet, on the other hand, was more apprehensive for the safety of the houses rather than that of the children. In his opinion the best thing for it would be to let them loose upon the town and forget their very existence. Unfortunately he realised it was not an option, so he took the youngest upon his lap and allowed her to pull his whiskers as the next eldest ran off with his pipe.

“You do not mean to leave them with us for the entire summer?” he asked in such despairing accents that he reminded himself of his dear wife. He feared that he would soon develop an addiction to hartshorn and sal volatile.

“Oh goodness no!” cried Mr Gardiner, mopping his wide brow with his handkerchief. “Lord it is hot in here!” He took a deep draught from his tankard of ale and then continued. “No indeed – we are unable to travel as far as the lakes – I only have three weeks at my disposal. Instead we mean to take our dearest Lizzy with us to Derbyshire.”

Mrs Gardiner fanned herself and smiled fetchingly at Lizzy. “Yes indeed! I have the greatest desire to visit the village of Lambton where I grew up and see all my dear old friends again. And I understand you have some friends in the neighbourhood too.”

“Me?” asked Lizzy, attempting to stop her cousin Jeremy from stuffing all the cakes from the tea tray into his mouth in one go. “I have never visited Lambton in my life.”

Mrs Gardiner only smiled all the more and winked at her as if they shared some secret joke.

If Lizzy had bothered to study the geography of the area more closely, she would have understood her aunt’s insinuations and attempted to cry off. As it was she felt she could enter the county of Derbyshire with impunity. Just because a certain gentleman had an estate there did not mean she should accidentally run into him. After all there were many gentlemen in Hertfordshire she had never set eyes upon and she had lived there all her life.

It wasn’t till they were well on their way and there was no turning back that Lizzy discovered the annoying truth. Lambton was not five miles from Pemberley, Mr Darcy’s estate, and her aunt and uncle had every intention of going there for a tour.

“You must know that all the great homes are open for viewing,” said Mrs Gardiner. “It is our plan that while we are there you shall introduce us to Mr Darcy, for I know that you were much in his company when you were in Kent. And once properly introduced we shall use the acquaintance to our advantage to improve our standing in the highest circles of the ton!” She beamed with pleasure.

“Is it not a good plan?” cried Mr Gardiner. “My wife is truly a genius. When she put the idea to me I said, ‘Bless my soul but that is marvellous!’ I knew we would one day benefit from all the kindnesses we have shown to our nieces, especially you, Lizzy, for you have always been a favourite.”

“But . . .” sputtered Lizzy. “I could not possibly. It is not right at all for me to try and trade off such a slight acquaintance as I have with Mr Darcy. Please do not ask it of me.”

“Tut tut, Lizzy. After all we have done for you how could you be so ungracious as to dream of denying us this one trifling thing? Have we not brought you with us on this fine trip at no expense to you or your father when we could easily have brought one of your sisters?” Mr Gardiner shook his head in deep displeasure.

Mrs Gardiner’s face crumpled and tears split down her rouged cheeks. “I had thought you were brought up to be more grateful and mannerly,” she sobbed. “It is all your father’s doing to be sure. He is such a sarcastic, mean spirited fellow.”

“And he hoodwinked my sister before she married him too,” said Mr Gardiner. “Not once did he mention the entail till after the knot was tied. And now – to be treated with such lack of feeling by his daughter! We ought indeed to have brought Jane, my dear. She is such an angel, she would never have played us such a backhanded turn!”

“Jane is all that is good and compliant. I have often warned sister about Lizzy’s wilful nature, but I had never thought to feel its sting. Have I not been a good aunt?”

“You have indeed, my dumpling, you have indeed. You do not deserve this in the least.” Mr Gardiner placed an arm about his wife’s ample shoulder in a show of comfort and gave Lizzy a hard stare. “See what you have done with your callous behaviour. She is utterly devastated and all because you put your pride before everything else.”

“It is not my pride, Uncle,” said Lizzy, though she knew that a great deal of pride was involved. “I just do not see that my introduction can be any help to you at all. I have never been upon good terms with the gentleman.”

“Nor have you been upon good terms with any gentleman, ever. We quite despair of you. Your fastidious tastes know no bounds. Not even one as illustrious as the Prince Regent would do for you, Princess Lizzy!”

Lizzy thought of the Prince Regent, so corpulent, the stays of his corsets creaking with every move, and felt her uncle’s statement to be warranted. But there was someone who she knew would do for her admirably. But she had destroyed any chance she could possibly have had with him, though she owned she never had a chance at all. And now, to add to the mortification she had already put herself through at Mr Darcy’s expense, her relations were expecting her to debase herself even further.

She knew she would have no peace until she acquiesced. Her aunt and uncle were always relentless, whatever their undertaking.

“Fine,” she said, grudgingly. “I will introduce you if we meet Mr Darcy, but do not blame me if it gets you nowhere.”

“Dearest heart!” exclaimed her aunt. “Whatever do you mean by that? Blame you? It is not in our nature to be resentful. Heavens! Wherever do you get such ideas?”

“Lizzy my darling!” said her uncle, his face wreathed in smiles. “I delight in your wit! What a joke you played on us, to be sure. And we both fell for it hook, line, and sinker. Though I never doubted for a minute that you were bamming us, for I knew you were much too good-natured to deny us anything! And as for Mr Darcy – do not worry at all, my dear. Just introduce us and we shall do the rest. My wife and I know full well how to ingratiate ourselves with men of the ton such as he. A lesson you could do well to follow. Watch and learn, Lizzy. Watch and learn.”

Lizzy leaned back against the squabs of their travelling carriage. A headache was coming on. They could not arrive at Lambton soon enough even though she could take no pleasure from what the visit held in store for her.

Much later, as Lizzy went up to her bedchamber at the inn, she asked the chambermaid in a roundabout way if the Darcy family were at Pemberley for the summer. She was pleased when the girl responded with a negative. Her apprehension of the morrow thus reduced, she managed to spend the night in undisturbed slumber.

Lizzy found her uneasiness grow, however, as their carriage entered the Pemberley woods. The park was extensive, and they drove along as the road rose in a gentle curve until, at last, they were awarded with a view of Pemberley. Lizzy was amazed to see that it was a handsome establishment, tastefully situated in a most natural landscape, with none of the flamboyant ostentation that exemplified Rosings.

“I had expected more,” said Mr Gardiner. “It is all so plain.”

“Not one Greek folly!” sighed Mrs Gardiner. “Let us hope the interior is more prepossessing. Baroque detailing and ceilings painted with cherubs! That is what I call the height of elegance.”

Lizzy’s could not help but feel that to be mistress of Pemberley might be something. And then she shuddered when she remembered accusing Mr Darcy of asking her to be his mistress. It was lowering to think that he had desired her to be neither and had told her so in no uncertain terms. Regret filled her as they descended the hill and crossed the bridge. It overwhelmed any apprehension that still lingered as they entered the great hall and awaited the housekeeper.

Upon meeting Mrs Reynolds, Mr Gardiner immediately asked her if the master was at home.

“My niece is most particularly acquainted with Mr Darcy,” he said, his waistcoat stretching as he threw out his portly chest.

Mrs Reynolds sniffed. “All the young ladies say that,” she said dismissively. “Mr Darcy is a very refined young man – I have my doubts that he would associate with the likes of you, besides he is not expected till the morrow.”

“Mark my words,” whispered Mr Gardiner into Lizzy’s ear, “this hatchet faced harridan is paid to keep the riff raff at bay. The denial is subterfuge, to be sure.”

“Uncle,” said Lizzy, hoping that his loud whisper had not been heard by the stern housekeeper, “Mr Darcy abhors deceit of any kind. I am certain he is not at home.”

Mrs Reynolds led them through all the salons that were open to the public. She had to keep a strict eye upon the Gardiners for whenever she was involved in explaining a certain aspect of the history of the establishment, they had a tendency to wander down hallways and try to open closed doors.

Mrs Gardiner bemoaned the lack of ornamentation and splendour. Mr Gardiner thought the library was crammed much to full of books.

“I thought it would be much more fine,” Mrs Gardiner said, wrinkling her nose up at the lofty ceilings. “Not one speck of gold leaf! Nor a single cherub prancing about! No lavish draperies!”

But all Lizzy could think was that she’d had the audacity to aspire to such greatness. How had she even imagined she would be asked to be mistress of such a place! She could not go from room to room without feeling increasingly mortified at her own foolishness. And the thought of Mr Darcy welcoming her aunt and uncle there as visitors was absolutely ludicrous. In this setting they only looked more low class and garish than usual.

“Your master is a very fine person,” said Mr Gardiner to Mrs Reynolds as they entered the picture gallery. “I am surprised his house does not better reflect his wealth.”

“He has other things to spend his money on,” she answered severely. “He lavishes it on his tenants. Not a cottage on his estate but it has a new roof! Not a barn that does not have the most advanced machinery. Seed drills, ploughs and what have you!”

“He is quite an eccentric then!” squealed Mrs Gardiner. “That explains everything!” She added to Lizzy in an undervoice, “In London eccentrics are all the rage.” She was smiling brightly again.

“He is the best of landlords and brothers, and has never spoken a cross word to me in his life, if that is your description of an eccentric,” said Mrs Reynolds, bristling.

Lizzy stopped before a portrait of Mr Darcy and stood in contemplation of it. The artist had not been able to do justice to his jade-green eyes, nor his subtle smile, nor the planes of his cheeks, nor the set of his shoulders, nor the lean musculature of his body, nor . . . Lizzy was startled out of her reverie by her uncle suddenly whispering in her ear.

“You turned your nose up at that?”

Lizzy forbore to tell him that the portrait didn’t even begin to describe the wonder that was Mr Darcy.

In a much louder voice Mr Gardiner said, “So Lizzy, this is your Mr Darcy. It is too bad he was not on hand to greet us as expected.”

She blushed and blushed as Mrs Reynolds eyed her with distaste and hurried them out of the house and into the hands of the gardener, who would conduct them about the grounds.

As they walked across the lawn towards the river, Lizzy turned back to look at the gracious house one last time, tripped over a loose stone, and hurtled headlong down the embankment into the water.

Neither her aunt nor uncle noticed. They were too busy regarding a gentleman who had suddenly come forward along the road that led around the side of the house from the stables.

Chapter Seventeen

Posted on Tuesday, 29 November 2005

“Ooh! It must be Mr Darcy!” cried Mrs Gardiner. She primped her locks and gave him a coy wave. Mr Gardiner stood to his full height, plumped his chest out, and bowed elaborately.

Darcy was about to turn on his heel and escape into his house as quickly as possible, but he felt a vague uneasiness which was brought on by more than the rather grotesque creatures in fawning attendance upon his lawn. Just as he came around the house he thought he had seen . . . but there was no one else in sight. Only the two smarmy day-trippers and his gardener, who was running about in circles, looking rather distraught. Why had he thought he had seen Elizabeth Bennet, of all people? She was comfortably settled in her home in Hertfordshire, as far as he knew, not polluting her sensibilities by visiting the opulent estates of the profligate upper classes.

The truth of the matter annoyed him. Since that disastrous meeting at Hunsford, and the kiss that had shattered his tranquility, he had been unable to get her out of his mind. Now was he to be haunted by fleeting visions of her at his every step? Was it such a blow to his pride that he had misjudged her so completely? Was he to torture himself forever for the mean spirited way he had rebuffed her advances? Admittedly the fault was his, and so must the humiliation be, but this was carrying things a bit too far.

He watched the gardener run down the slope towards the river and out of sight, leaving the two bourgeoisie visitors still staring raptly in his direction. Every so often the woman giggled and wiggled her fingers at him. Darcy was disturbed that this usually trustworthy retainer was behaving so out of character by abandoning these people upon the lawn. Not that he could blame the man, but he was paid well to do his job and put up with all sorts of evils. If he could shovel manure upon his flowerbeds he could dashed well deal with encroaching mushrooms.

Darcy strode forward, and as he came to the declivity in the lawn he was met with a vision that drew the breath from his lungs. It was Miss Elizabeth Bennet, wet through and dripping upon the manicured grass. The muslin of her gown clung to her form in a most revealing manner, relieving Darcy of all power of thought.

Understandably it took a few moments before his eyes raised to hers, but when they did meet, green and brown together, the cheeks of each became overspread with the deepest blush.

“Miss Bennet!” was all he was able to utter.

“Mr Darcy!” she returned, and then she cast her eyes down in complete confusion. This only served to increase Lizzy’s embarrassment as the full realisation of the duplicitous nature of muslin was brought home to her.

Mr and Mrs Gardiner, finally aware of the existence of their niece again, looked on with unmitigated approval.

“Devious little minx,” sighed Mr Gardiner.

Mrs Gardiner dabbed at the corners of her eyes with her hankie. “A touching performance. Our own daughters could do well to take lessons from her. Dearest Lizzy! How could we ever have doubted her dutiful nature?”

As luck would have it, Darcy was too preoccupied to attend to these remarks. He was busy trying to keep his eyes from straying below Miss Bennet’s neck. Or from noticing how the wet tendrils of her hair clung to the smooth whiteness of her skin.

“You are vacationing in Derbyshire?”

“Yes, as you can see,” said Lizzy, trying to stop her teeth from chattering. It was July, and the weather warm, but she was unaccustomed to standing out of doors in wet clothing. “I had understood you to be away from home. Otherwise I would not . . .”

Oh! Who was she trying to deceive? Lizzy knew that she would have come no matter what, having been forced to by her relations, but that he should assume she had ulterior motives of her own was a lowering thought.

“I quite understand,” he said. Though he did not entirely. What could possibly have induced Miss Bennet to come to the last place on earth she could possibly desire to be?

“I do hope your sister is well,” said Lizzy, attempting to remember her manners.

“She is, in fact she will be arriving tomorrow with our friends, Mr Bingley and his sister.”

“Mr Bingley! His sister!” Lizzy was cast once more into confusion, remembering how her aunt had snubbed them so terribly in London. I seemed that Mr Darcy remembered as well for his expression at once grew haughty. He had already been staring at her wet hair with revulsion. Lizzy wished herself anywhere but her present location. “You must excuse me – my aunt and uncle are waiting.”

“Your aunt and uncle?” Darcy was aghast. He had not thought to make a connection between Miss Bennet’s sudden appearance and the two persons on his lawn.

“Yes, they must long have been wishing to return to Lambton.”

“Indeed!” cried Mr Gardiner, seeing this as a perfect opening in a conversation that Lizzy was about to botch completely. “We are your fair friend’s nearest and dearest relatives. And you? Surely I recognise you from the splendid portrait I beheld in the gallery of your exquisite home?”

As both Lizzy and Darcy only stared at them in astonishment, Mrs Gardiner took a more direct approach than her husband. “Are you not going to introduce us, Lizzy?”

Lizzy wanted only to sink into the earth. “I do not think Mr Darcy . . .” she muttered indistinctly and turned to trudge uphill towards the carriageway.

Darcy had not been raised in the manor born without learning his manners. He put his hand out to halt Lizzy’s progress. “Do please make your friends known to me, Miss Bennet.”

She stopped and sighed. Well, he had asked for it – she refused to be held responsible for the outcome. The introductions made, she cringed as her aunt effused and her uncle smiled smugly, his thumbs stuck into the pockets of his waistcoat in order to hold his coat back and show off all the fobs and gold chains that adorned his broad stomach. How her aunt went on and on! Lizzy’s knees began to knock and she shivered uncontrollably though she had wrapped her arms about herself in a fruitless attempt to get warm.

Mrs Gardiner was busy extolling the virtues of the London season and teasing Darcy not to be a stranger when next in town, hinting at invitations for dinners and balls, He managed to divert his attention from the gruesomely fascinating effect talking rendered upon the myriad strings of pearls swathed about her plump neck, as her chins bobbled in and out amongst them, and glanced at Lizzy. Immediately he stepped forward, leaving Mrs Gardiner in mid-sentence, though she rambled on unheeding.

“Miss Bennet! Your lips are blue!” Darcy blurted out before remembering the impropriety of mentioning her lips at all. “Is there anything I could do, to give you present relief? A dry gown perhaps? My sister has several in her chamber that you may choose from.”

Lizzy could no longer speak, but nodded in gratitude. Now was not the time for pride – she was freezing to death.

“Oh Lord, Lizzy!” cried her aunt. “You poor dear! I shall never forgive myself if you should fall ill.”

“No indeed!” said her uncle, winking broadly at her. “Think of the imposition upon Mr Darcy if we were obliged to have you languishing with the chills in one of his bedchambers for a week!”

A look of dread passed over Darcy’s face before he managed to school his features, but he lost control of them nearly at once when a claw-like hand clutched at his arm.

“Oh Mr Darcy! I do not believe Lizzy capable of walking the distance from here to your grand establishment. Whatever are we to do?” Mrs Gardiner looked up at him beseechingly.

“With my back, I am of no help,” claimed Mr Gardiner as he placed one hand on his lumbar region and grimaced for effect.

Darcy cast his eyes up to the heavens and then held his arms out to Lizzy. “Will you do me the honour, Miss Bennet?”

“No! Oh no. I can manage by myself, Mr Darcy.” Lizzy took a few faltering steps, praying that her knees would not give out before she reached the house.

“We both know that I am very adept at carrying you,” he said. “I had no small amount of practice at Netherfield.”

“But then I was not wet! You shall ruin your suit of clothes.”

“I know you may think it frivolous, Miss Bennet, but I do have another one.”

Lizzy’s eyes flew to his face. Could it be that Mr Darcy was joking with her? And at a time like this? There was a decided sparkle in his eyes. She smiled as well as one can smile when their teeth are chattering nineteen to the dozen, and allowed herself to be lifted. The familiar feeling of being held in his arms was almost eclipsed by the awareness that her wet summer clothing did not provide the same sort of barrier as a dry gown and shawl. His warmth that radiated into her should have stopped her body’s shivering, but inexplicably it only increased the sensation.

“Remember, Miss Bennet,” said Darcy in an uneven voice, “it is less awkward if you put your arms about my neck.” He could feel wetness seeping through his clothes at all the points where their bodies met. Her cheek was dangerously close to his. He wondered if her lips were still blue, but he dared not look, for if he so much as turned his head, he was afraid their lips would meet. The entire way from river to entranceway he concentrated on nothing else but resisting that temptation.

Darcy’s butler was as well trained as any to be found in the best London establishments, so not a flicker of his true feelings reached his face as he opened the door and beheld his master with a bedraggled maiden in his arms. Privately he thought that is was about time that Mr Darcy had a little tumble between the sheets. The young man had lived the life of a monk for too long. He did, however, do a double take when Darcy and the girl were followed in by two decidedly inferior individuals. They would certainly throw a spanner in the works!

As Darcy climbed the staircase to the second floor he mused at the irony that the first time he should carry a lady up to a bedchamber in his own house, it would be to his sister’s room and not to his own compartments. Not that Miss Bennet was the person he wished to carry there, after all the proper formalities of marriage had taken place, of course, but he certainly had a better idea of the appeal of the pursuit. No, when he did finally take a wife it would be someone other than Miss Bennet – had he not said something to the effect that she was the last woman on earth he could be prevailed upon to marry? And anyway, the idea of proposing twice to the same lady was preposterous.

But of course, he reminded himself, he had not proposed the first time. But that thought only made him all too aware of Miss Bennet again, and her lips. And the way her body had pressed to his that day. The same body he could feel all too well through her wet garments. He had to curb his train of thought abruptly. There was more to choosing a wife than lips and bodies, no matter how appealing they may be. There were common interests to consider, and intellect, and wit. Personality, character, compatibility.

He would not argue, even with himself, about Miss Bennet’s relative intellect and wit. She was as well endowed in that respect as she was in some others. Though he could not say the same about some of her relatives. And as to her character, well the letter she had written attested to its strength. He had also borne witness to the sweetness of her disposition and decidedness with which she expressed her opinions. But as far as common interests and compatibility went, he drew a complete blank.

And his thoughts never even strayed near that incomprehensible thing called love.

By the time he reached the door of his sister’s bedchamber he was more than ready to put his burden down. The proximity of Miss Bennet had clearly addled his thoughts. He wanted nothing other than to shut himself away in his study for the rest of the day and read some reproving work of literature.

“I do hope you can manage for yourself now,” he said. “I will have a maid sent up at once to assist you.”

“Thank you,” said Lizzy. “You must change your clothing as well, I am afraid.”

Darcy only nodded, then he stood and waited to see her enter the room and close the door behind her before he took himself off. His butler was waiting for him on the landing.

“What am I to do with your other guests?” he asked with a look of distaste.

Darcy had completely forgotten about the Gardiners, and since he could not order his butler to do what he would have wished, and erase them from the face of the earth, instead he said, “Show them into the green salon and supply them with refreshments.”

“Will you be joining them, sir?”

Darcy regarded his butler with a freezing look of disdain. “Though it may appear so, Plimstock, I have not yet gone completely insane.”

Chapter Eighteen

Posted on Tuesday, 6 December 2005

Lizzy felt the loss of the warmth of Mr Darcy’s body immediately. No fire burned in the room she entered and the curtains were drawn. She took in shadowy images of a large, comfortable bed and elegant furnishings as she stumbled her way to the tall window and pulled aside the draperies. She attempted to warm herself by standing in the sunlight and rubbing the goose bumps that stood out on her arms.

A minute later Mrs Reynolds bustled in, followed by a maid who began directly to make up the fire.

“If you catch your death of cold you will have come by your just desserts, little lady,” said Mrs Reynolds. “Do not think that you are the first to attempt to trap the master in this manner. He is worth a thousand of you!”

“Indeed!” cried Lizzy. “It is not the case at all. I tripped and fell.”

“That is what they all say.” Mrs Reynolds turned to the maid who was fanning a growing blaze. “Remember the one who threw herself from the steps? And the other who almost fell beneath the carriage wheels?”

The maid nodded enthusiastically and began helping Lizzy to disrobe. “Though I do think that getting wet was a brilliant move on your part,” she whispered into Lizzy’s ear. “Nothing was left to the master’s imagination.”

Lizzy blushed and blushed again at the thought. Meanwhile Mrs Reynolds threw open the wardrobe doors and was going through the dresses hanging there.

“You will be disappointed to know that Miss Darcy has nothing immodest.” She glared at Lizzy and handed her a gown of thick brown cotton. “This should do for you,” she said and she left the room with one last frigid glance.

“Don’t mind her,” said the maid, rubbing warmth into Lizzy with a thick towel. “She’s just enjoying playing the role of dragon lady. She really is quite sweet and a joy to work for.”

“There is no need for her to treat me so discourteously,” said Lizzy. “I have no designs upon Mr Darcy at all.”

“Have you not?” asked the maid, smirking. “Well, to be sure your relatives do. I lit the fire in the green parlour and overheard them making wedding plans.”

Lizzy groaned. “You are not the most discreet of servants – I am surprised Mr Darcy tolerates you.”

“Mr Darcy is too good a man to let me go. I support my crippled mother and all my wee brothers and sisters upon my wages.”

The gown on now, Lizzy appraised herself in the mirror. The dress was elegantly styled, but there was not one flounce or tuck, and no lace or ribbon adorning it. The neckline was high, and the sleeves buttoned at her wrist with a row of ten buttons. Because Miss Darcy had a larger frame and was taller, the dress hung loosely upon Lizzy and swept the floor.

“Are all her dresses like this, or is this Mrs Reynolds’ idea of a joke?” asked Lizzy.

“Miss Darcy is the most demure young lady there ever was,” said the maid, “but I believe this is her preferred gown for wearing to church in the winter. Now, if you will come with me, I shall take you to the green salon.”

When she was finally reunited with her family, Lizzy had to glare meaningfully at the maid for a few moments before the girl took herself off and left them on their own.

“Lizzy!” cried her aunt. “Why are you dressed in that – that – monstrously hideous gown?”

“It is of no import, Aunt,” said Lizzy. “We must leave at once. Oh! Would that we never came!”

“Leave?” cried her uncle. “I see no reason to leave. I think rather we ought call the apothecary. Indeed you look decidedly ill.”

“Come,” said her aunt. “Have some of these delicious cakes! They are quite delightful. You must make sure that when you are married Mr Darcy never sacks the cook. But the housekeeper! You must get rid of her at once – and that horrid butler. But there will be time aplenty for that. First you must quickly eat your fill then arrange yourself upon the settee much in the way your mother is wont to. That should do the trick. When Mr Darcy returns and sees how indisposed you are he will not hear of your leaving.”

“I am not indisposed, Aunt, and I should like to leave without having to face Mr Darcy again, if at all possible.”

“Not want to face Mr Darcy?” Her uncle stared at her so searchingly that she started to blush. “Is there some reason that you fear seeing him? Did he commit some indiscretion while he carried you upstairs? This is an outrage! That you should be compromised while we were plied with tea and cakes!”

“No Uncle,” said Lizzy, reaching for his arm to restrain him. “Nothing . . .”

She turned and stopped dead in her tracks. Mr Darcy was standing in the open doorway, his colour heightened, his hands clenched.

“Miss Bennet has no reason to fear me, I assure you,” he said in a chill voice.

“If she does, you will have me to answer to,” said Mr Gardiner threateningly.

Mrs Gardiner rose quickly from her chair and rushed forward, kicking her husband surreptitiously in the shin as she surged past him. “Mr Darcy! I must thank you for all the kindness you have shown to our Lizzy. We are so honoured and thrilled at the care you have so liberally bestowed that my husband is quite beside himself and knows not how to thank you. And on top of all that he is distraught over poor Lizzy. The sweet thing is completely unwell, as you can plainly see, but will not own to it for a second. Dear child! She has such a fear of causing trouble to anyone, but I have been attempting to assure her that with an estate great as yours and such a fine staff of loyal servants as you have, that to see her well is no trouble for you at all. Why! I am convinced she could convalesce here for a week and you would not even notice our presence.”

Mr Darcy severely doubted that and began to stutter. “I, of course, will do all that is in my power . . .” Darcy could not finish his sentence for Mr Gardiner suddenly threw himself upon his chest.

“Mr Darcy, please accept my heartfelt thanks. I am all at sixes and sevens over this sorry business. When I saw my poor Lizzy fall into the river I was sure we had lost her forever. It is a mercy that I did not suffer an apoplexy!”

“Uncle!” cried Lizzy. “There is no need for such a display. I am perfectly well and would only like to go back to the inn now and leave poor Mr Darcy in peace. We have abused his hospitality far too long.”

Darcy knew not what to say. Politeness compelled him to refute Miss Bennet’s statement, and say that there had been no abuse to his hospitality, but lying was something that he could not bring himself to do. Beside the fact that Miss Bennet was wearing a very drab, ill-fitting gown, he could see nothing physically wrong with her. In fact most every physical part of her, besides her hands and her face, was completely hidden from his view. This reflection only served to bring to mind the shape of her form as revealed by her wet gown. Now was not a good time for such recollections.

“Are you absolutely certain that you are well, Miss Bennet?”

“Absolutely, Mr Darcy. Would you be so kind as to have our carriage brought around?”

Mr Darcy left the room to attend to it at once, before Mr Gardiner could throw himself upon him again. The closing of the door unleashed a flood of recriminations from the aunt and uncle upon their niece. Darcy felt a rush of sympathy towards Miss Bennet that took him completely by surprise. He almost wished that she did not have to leave, but the prospect of spending another moment in the same room as either of her relatives was too much for him to bear.

Mr and Mrs Gardiner were in high dungeon all the way back to Lambton, and it was not until Mrs Gardiner fortuitously remembered that Miss Darcy’s gown would need to be returned and Lizzy’s retrieved, that any modicum of good humour was restored to the party. The following morning Mrs Gardiner did her best to convince Lizzy to dress in a manner to show off all her allurements to best advantage. Lizzy, however, could think only of the housekeeper’s scorn, and insisted on wearing a simple country-style gown and a straw bonnet.

“You look like a peasant!” cried Mrs Gardiner, wringing her hands in distress.

“If this gown is good enough to wear into Meryton then it is good enough to wear to Pemberley,” said Lizzy, resolutely.

When they arrived at that august mansion the impassive Plimstock showed them into the drawing room. Lizzy’s feelings of awkwardness were only exacerbated by the warm welcome she received from Caroline Bingley and her brother. These feelings were replaced by mortification when her aunt surged into the room behind her, reeking of lavender and dripping with lace.

“My dear Miss Bingley, it has been such an age since you and your delightful brother called upon us in London. I had great hopes you would visit again, but there must have been a small misunderstanding. However all’s well that ends well, as I always say! Jane was so disappointed to have missed you. She is in Brighton with the rest of her family now and looking as pretty as a picture with her frilly parasol as she walks upon the sand. Her beauty will not be turned coarse and brown by the sun’s rays. And she is truly beautiful, is she not?” This last was directed to Bingley with a wining smile. He stammered and said she was lovely as an angel.

While Bingley was being besieged by the Gardiners, Darcy came forward to greet Lizzy and introduce her to his sister.

“We only came to return her gown. I do not mean to impose,” whispered Lizzy.

“Your visit is no imposition, I assure you,” said Darcy. This was not a lie because in his thoughts he did not include her relatives in the ‘your’. He was using it in the singular and not the plural.

Miss Darcy was a tall young lady. She was dressed in a severely elegant gown similar to the one that Lizzy had worn the day before, but green in colour. Lizzy’s first impression was of excessive shyness, but after a moment of conversation with Mr Darcy’s sister she realised that the girl was proud and not in the least bit interested in talking to her.

When the formalities were over, Miss Darcy turned and hissed into her brother’s ear, “Must we have these people here, Fitzwilliam?”

“Miss Bennet is returning the gown that she borrowed yesterday after she inadvertently fell into the river,” Darcy whispered back. “It is a measure of politeness to be attended to with at least a modicum of grace.”

“Oh! You are all for treating the lower classes with such forbearance,” replied Miss Darcy. “I do not have your tolerance!”

“The truth, Georgiana, no matter how annoying you may find it, is that Miss Bennet is a gentleman’s daughter and so is of the same class as we.”

Miss Darcy turned and eyed Lizzy appraisingly, then darted a disgusted look at the Gardiners. “That’s as may be,” she said, “but you can’t say the same for her relatives. They positively stink of the shop.”

“May I remind you that the Bingleys’ fortune came from trade?”

“Fortune being the operative word, dear brother. I can see no fortune here.”

Darcy sighed. Somehow he had failed badly in the upbringing of his sister. He ought not to have left her so much at Rosings with his aunt. The previous summer he had placed her at Ramsgate with a companion in order to regulate her pride, but he had been deceived in Mrs Younge. She had passed herself off as a liberal minded, down to earth, genteel sort of woman, but she had turned out to be an elitist. He had paid a surprise visit only to find them perusing a list of peerages to discover which of the eligible lords had the greatest assets so that Georgiana would know whom to pursue once she made her debut. What his sister needed was a companion who had a healthy understanding of the vagaries of the upper echelons of society. Someone a little more like Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

Caroline Bingley finally pried herself from Mrs. Gardiner’s clutches and ran over to Lizzy. She grasped her by the hand and pulled her towards the instrument. “Please join me, Miss Bennet,” she cried. “Do you not think music is just what this gathering needs?”

“By all means,” said Lizzy, who had heard more of Darcy’s conversation with his sister than was pleasing. “But will Miss Darcy deign to allow me to use her instrument? I fear I am too common.”

“We are both too common by half!” laughed Miss Bingley. “But you know they say, ‘Pride goeth before a fall,’ so there is hope for our Miss Darcy yet. Do not let anything she has said disturb you. Her brother is perfectly amiable. Indeed he has no improper pride – and it is her brother’s opinion that matters, not hers.”

Lizzy balked. “Miss Bingley, there is a misapprehension in this household that I have set out to ensnare Mr Darcy. I can only assure you that is not the case.”

Caroline flashed her an understanding smile. “Colonel Fitzwilliam has told me all about what transpired in Kent. I am on your side – trust me, won’t you? While I love my colonel to death, I admit that he is the most bumbling matchmaker alive! I, however, am a true proficient. Now let us find a piece of music that we both know and play a duet before my brother rethinks his interest in Jane. Your choice of relations is most improvident.”

“As if I had a say in the matter!”

“Ah well, Darcy has some rather horrid ones himself. But you see, the worst we Bingleys have is Mr Hurst, all our other relatives being deceased, and after a glass of port or two Mr Hurst is not an issue at all. Louisa swears by it!”

“Yes, I noticed she had a tendency to cure ills with the use of wine.”

“You were in dire need of it that day,” said Caroline as she reminisced. “Quite a funny song you sang – but I don’t think we’ll find the music for that one here.”

When they finally found sheet music to their liking, Caroline called the rest of the company to attention and announced that they were in for some unprecedented entertainment.

“The riff-raff you allow to play my pianoforte!” said Georgiana to her brother and she sat down with her arms crossed and indulged in a fit of the dismals. Darcy sat down beside his sister, curious as to what Miss Bingley was up to. A more devious lady he had never met.

Neither Caroline nor Lizzy was terribly accomplished at the art, but their lively manner captivated all but one member of their audience. The others were prepossessed in their favour. Bingley was ready, the Gardiners eager, and Darcy determined to be pleased. He did not, however, expect to be quite as entranced as he was. He was certain that Elizabeth Bennet had overheard at least part of his conversation with Georgiana, but rather than react with disdain as she would previously have done, she was singing and playing as if she did not have a care in the world. Could it be that she no longer regarded him as a dilettante Lothario?

Lizzy, for her part, was allowing her thoughts to run wild again. She realised that she had completely misjudged Caroline Bingley – she was proving herself to be a dear, sweet girl. And one of the dearest, sweetest things about her was that, rather than having designs on Mr Darcy herself, she had been working to make him fall in love with Lizzy for all these months. This taught Lizzy to hope as she’d never hoped before. She looked across the room and caught Mr Darcy regarding her, and held his eyes with her own. She gently smiled as she warmed in his gaze and discerned a returning smile that seemed to speak with promise of things to come.

The door opened and a footman entered the room. He glanced around and then approached Darcy, giving him a letter. When the song was over, Darcy got up and walked over to the piano.

“What brings you here in such state, Mr Darcy?” teased Caroline. “We refuse to be alarmed by you. Our courage rises at any attempt to intimidate us!”

“You know that I have no design of alarming either of you, Miss Bingley. You delight in always professing opinions not your own. I have merely come to tell both you lovely ladies how much I enjoyed your performance, and also to deliver this letter to Miss Bennet.”

“A letter for me?” asked Lizzy. “How came it to be delivered here?”

“As you can see,” said Darcy, “the direction was written very ill.”

“It is from Jane!” cried Lizzy. In the background Bingley’s head perked up at the very mention of the name. “Do you mind if I read it right now?”

“Not at all,” said Darcy. “It must be some time since you heard from your sister.”

“Yes it is,” said Lizzy with a becoming smile, as she opened the letter. She sat on the piano stool, reading happily, and Darcy conversed quietly with Caroline who remained seated beside her. Suddenly her complexion changed.

“Oh no!” she cried. “It cannot be. Whatever are we to do? We are all ruined!” She looked around, her eyes wide as she suddenly recollected that she was not alone. Everyone in the room was staring at her in startled wonder.

Lizzy pulled a handkerchief from her reticule, and as she burst into tears she covered her face with it and was soon lost to everything else.

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