Conundrums & Coincidences (Mr Darcy’s Dilemmas)

Chapter 12

12

CALL IT HOPE…AND COMFITS

T he day having dawned clear and the church being little more than three-quarters of a mile distant, the tree-lined road beckoned, and the five of them agreed to walk to Sunday services. Their number, however, included neither Miss Kensett nor Mr Fordham.

During the donning of hats and bonnets and such in the vestibule, Elizabeth enquired after the well-being of the absent lady and gentleman.

“Your concern is admirable, dear.” Miss Rigby tugged her gloves with more force than seemed necessary. “Miss Kensett declared she had a headache and requested a breakfast tray be delivered to her bedchamber. Henrietta is tending to that with some laudanum and will remain with her until I return. Other than a severe bout of griping, there appeared to be nothing at all wrong with the lady when I paid her a brief visit half an hour ago.” The chaperon’s expression clearly conveyed her disapproval of both slothfulness and religious indifference. “Of Mr Fordham’s whereabouts, I have no knowledge. ”

Displeasure evident in his tone, Mr Monroe said, “On this day of rest, the gentleman apparently has important business to attend to this morning.” Alfred passed him a walking stick, and there followed a quiet exchange between employer and footman. All Darcy heard was, “Mr Atwater will be keeping an eye on him.”

The information provided by chaperon and attorney seemed to cause Elizabeth more anxiety than relief. Knowing her poor opinion of Miss Kensett and Mr Fordham, Darcy wondered about her sudden interest in them. Elizabeth has such a kind heart. I should not question her concern. There would be ample opportunity for them to converse during their walk, and then the subject might be broached.

As they set off towards the quaint country church, its bells summoning the faithful to worship, Darcy had little opportunity to address the matter or to even address Elizabeth at all. Consequently, his steely eyes took aim at the back of another gentleman’s head—Mr Hadley’s.

The younger man had offered the lady his arm before Darcy had a chance to do so. And, because Mr Monroe was performing the same service for Miss Rigby, Darcy walked alone, feeling superfluous .

For two hours Darcy sat in a pew between Miss Rigby on his left and Mr Hadley on his right. He attentively listened to prayers, Bible readings, a sermon from the pulpit, the soft whispers of Elizabeth and Mr Hadley, and a jealous voice in his head urging him to tell the two of them to hush.

Darcy also prayed. He prayed he would have Elizabeth on his arm for the return walk, and he prayed she and Mr Hadley had not formed an attachment.

After the service, the congregation lingered in the churchyard, smiling and creating a happy hubbub of chatter and laughter. Adding to the morning’s idyll, male birds in nearby trees provided bursts of musical vocalisation. Darcy knew they sang not to entertain humans but rather for territorial purposes. Perhaps I should serenade Elizabeth. What folly that would be.

Meanwhile, under the watchful eye of Mr Monroe, and with that innate ease of his, Mr Hadley mingled amongst people with whom he was unacquainted. Ah yes, but how well does the youngster warble?

Darcy wandered over to where Miss Rigby and Elizabeth chatted with the vicar’s wife and joined their discussion about her husband’s inspiring sermon. “I appreciated,” said he, “that Mr Smith’s message about hope arose naturally from biblical text.”

Mrs Smith smiled and thanked him on her husband’s behalf. Then she leant in and whispered as though she was about to impart a great secret. “I suspect my dear Mr Smith was also inspired, at least a little, by a novel we recently took turns reading aloud to one another. Sense and Sensibility. In the story, the Mrs Dashwood character says, ‘Know your own happiness. You want nothing but patience—or give it a more fascinating name, call it hope.’”

“I read that story several times and know some favourite bits by heart,” said Elizabeth. “Elinor knew that whatever her sister and mother conjectured one moment, they believed the next. ‘With them, to wish was to hope, and to hope was to expect.’”

Miss Rigby admitted she had not read the novel. “Nevertheless, there is much to be said on the subject of hope. We treasure and anticipate our wish for fulfilment, even in the midst of disappointment. One should remain expectant.” Darcy thought the chaperon, a spinster, looked rather wistful as she added, “Without wishes, we forget to have hope. ”

“Oh yes,” agreed Mrs Smith, “and we must lean on, and trust in, our faith.”

“And we must have faith that our wishes and hopes will be fulfilled.” Darcy’s eyes strayed to Elizabeth. “At least in some measure or manner.” There had been no ulterior motive for his joining the three ladies, but it was to his advantage that he was there to offer Elizabeth his arm once everyone in their party agreed it was time to set off for Oakwood.

It also was advantageous that, somewhere along the way, he and she outstripped Miss Rigby, who was walking arm in arm with both Mr Monroe and Mr Hadley. They were not too far behind, just conveniently out of earshot.

As it had been on the hilly, wooded path the day prior, Darcy and Elizabeth walked awhile without speaking. She seemed pensive, and he observed her in compassionate silence, wishing he knew what she was thinking.

“Are you well, Miss Bennet?”

“Indeed I am, thank you. I am only distressed by some dreadful words I heard spoken yesterday.” Releasing his arm, she fidgeted with a button on one of her kid gloves, and he was bereft of her touch.

She had seemed so light-hearted mere minutes ago. Wondering whose dreadful words had caused her distress, Darcy glanced behind, assuming it had been one of those three. In wretched suspense and commiseration, he waited.

Silently he wished he had the privilege to enfold her in his arms, to let her pour out her heart to him, to wipe away her tears, and, yes, to kiss away her troubles and take them upon himself. Would that day ever come? Ah, but without wishes, one forgets to have hope.

“Mr Darcy, this is going to sound exceedingly brazen of me, but I desperately need to speak to someone. And that someone is you, but we must do so in private.”

Wishes and hopes were all well and good, but he would not let his heart run away with expectation. He leant in a bit, gentling his tone. “I shall arrange something.” How that was to be accomplished, he did not know. Mr Monroe had made it clear the beneficiaries were constantly watched.

“Thank you. I fear I am being utterly shameless in my impudence and presumptuousness this morning, but may I enquire about your…” She leant away from him and shook her head. “No, I cannot. Perhaps I am not as shameless as I thought.”

Slowing his pace, he turned to her. “Must I frighten you?”

“Frighten me? I do not understand.”

She had given him such an appalled look that he almost laughed. “Perhaps it is I who misunderstood…at Rosings. I thought you said you had an obstinacy that never allowed you to be frightened by, or of, others and that your fearsome intrepidity invariably reared its head at intimidation. Ergo, I thought that if I were to frighten you, your stubbornness and courage would surge to such a degree that you would become outrageously impudent.”

“Outrageously impudent?”

“What I meant to say is that you would become brave enough to enquire about my… What, exactly?”

Smiling at him, Elizabeth shook her head. “After all that, how can I not ask?” Her smile faded. “It is just that I am concerned on your behalf and wonder at your, um, attentions to”—she winced—“Miss Kensett.” Blushing, she bit her bottom lip.

His brow furrowed. “Would you have me behave otherwise? Shall I openly display my selfish disdain of her for everyone to witness? I am trying to behave in a more gentlemanlike manner than that, madam.”

“I have noticed, sir, and I appreciate and commend your efforts.” She spoke her next words in a near whisper. “It is just that Miss Kensett is… She is…”

“She is…the subject you wish to speak of privately?”

“Partially, yes.”

“And if I enquired about Mr Hadley’s attentions to you?”

“I would tell you that I like him very much and that we are mutually attached.”

Darcy pressed his lips together so firmly they must have formed a straight line.

Slender fingers pressed lightly upon his forearm. “But he and I have no stronger an attachment than friendship.”

Darcy muttered, “Perhaps you might inform him of that. He seems utterly ignorant.”

“Do you think so? I confess that, due to a lack of eligible gentlemen in my neighbourhood, I have not the necessary experience to properly determine the extent of a gentleman’s interest in me. I knew nought of yours until that evening at Hunsford.”

Genteel laughter burst forth from Miss Rigby and Mr Monroe, evidently over something Mr Hadley had said. Elizabeth looked over her shoulder and sent them a smile. Then, she looked Darcy in the eye and apologised again for her ill-treatment of him at Hunsford and for believing Mr Wickham’s tale. “I made one of the biggest mistakes of my life that evening. I do not mean that I regret my refusal of your offer, for I could not have accepted you at the time. I did not know you well enough. Nor did you know me. But for two long months, I wished for your forgiveness.”

“Your admonishments were well-deserved. But, because you wish it, you have my forgiveness.” And more. Much more .

They had, by then, turned onto the lane leading to the manor, and a neighbour riding a bay cob wished them a ‘good day’ before passing by.

“Since we are mending fences, there is something I have been meaning to tell you for days now. Before I left London, I received a reply from Bingley. He plans to reopen Netherfield as soon as he returns from Scarborough. I can give you no further assurance of how matters thereafter may unfold for your sister, but we can always hope.”

And you, Elizabeth—inadvertently or not—have given me hope by saying you did not regret your refusal of my offer because you could not have accepted me at the time. So, does that mean you would accept me now…or soon?

All his suffering was quickly turning to dogged perseverance. Perseverance, he knew, built character, and character produced hope. With a spring in his step, instead of continuing on to the house, Darcy took leave of Elizabeth and the others and strode towards the stables.

His purpose was twofold—to ensure his team was well tended and to examine his and, if necessary, other carriages in the coach house. He was unsure where his next puzzle might be hidden, but Darcy was certain of the solution to the one in his pocket.

The first is to supply with what you need.

With the second cheese and wine are better.

Put together, like the wind you may speed.

Horses, alas, know restraint and fetter.

While he inspected the stalls housing his team, a helpful stable-boy named Jimmy followed him, asking and answering questions and treating his horses to pieces of carrot .

“Do you ken Miss Bennet, sir?”

“I do. Do you ?”

“Oh yes!” The expression on Jimmy’s face gave Darcy the impression the boy was lost to a daydream. “Miss Bennet is the kindest, prettiest lady I ever met! She gave me comforts!”

Darcy’s fingers stilled behind the horse’s ear he had been scratching. “Did she?” I wish Elizabeth would give me comforts.

“The comforts had pistachios!”

The innocence and cheerfulness of children always added relish to Darcy’s existence, and he wished for a family of his own.

A quarter of an hour later, he walked away from the coach house with not only a new puzzle in his breast pocket—the solution, indeed, had been ‘equipage’—but a huge grin upon his face as he remembered the rest of his conversation with the boy.

“I think you mean Miss Bennet gave you com fits , Jimmy, not com forts .”

“Oh? Well… I don’t know, sir. Those sweet pistachios gave me comforts, no doubt about that.” The boy had paused for a moment. “Of course, that was afore I got the toothache.”