Conundrums & Coincidences (Mr Darcy’s Dilemmas)

Chapter 25

25

HER FATHER’S HOUSE

A fter attending Sunday services at St Peter upon Cornhill, the seven of them—Mr and Mrs Gardiner and their two daughters and Mr Bennet with a pair of his—walked along Gracechurch Street. While Mattie and Evie behaved like genteel young ladies, Lydia did nothing but loudly complain; and her father did nothing to correct her recalcitrant, childish conduct. The little boys, who had been left at home with their nurse, probably would have been better behaved than their sixteen-year-old cousin.

Duly ashamed of her father and sister, Elizabeth was thankful Mr Darcy was not there to further witness her family’s delinquencies. Her thoughts could not long stray from images and thoughts of him. Someday he and I shall be announced as Mr and Mrs Fitzwilliam Darcy. She smiled to herself.

Her love had not been a sudden thing, although physical attraction had begun the instant Elizabeth had set eyes on him at the Meryton assembly. Her dislike of his general behaviour had sharpened into particular resentment that same night because of a disrespectful remark. The cutting barb had wounded her pride and festered into prejudice; but the passage of time had healed the injury.

In Kent, seeds of love had been planted by a heartfelt declaration and by words upon pages written to her. A change of sentiment had taken root with each subsequent reading of that letter. At Oakwood, in sunshine and in rain, gratitude and esteem had sprouted. Affection had grown stronger, and her love bloomed and flourished with each passing day.

Was it not strange how quickly a person’s profound feelings could change? Feelings she once thought immutable. Dislike to romantic love. Paternal love to disappointment. The special bond she had shared with her father withered on the vine. Perhaps that was natural.

The sermon given during that morning’s service had included a psalm encouraging women to forget their people and their fathers’ houses to live harmoniously in their husbands’ homes. To Elizabeth’s disgust, there also had been a quote from the Bible advising fathers to utterly refuse to give their daughters in marriage to men they did not approve of.

The eleventh of July could not come quickly enough.

Lost in thought, Elizabeth had outpaced the others and was startled when Lydia caught up with her.

“Lizzy, what business do you have with an attorney? I just overheard Papa mention to my aunt and uncle something about a meeting you and he have in the morning.”

“I promise that Mama and all my sisters will learn of it when we are reunited on the morrow.”

“You might as well tell me now, for I shall have far better things to do tomorrow. Kitty will be wild to hear all about Brighton…as will Maria Lucas and Harriet and Pen Ha rrington and Aunt Philips. La! I shall be ever so busy and in demand!” She sighed dramatically. “But how shall I survive without the officers? Particularly my very own lieutenant! But I suppose you do not care to hear about my Wicky lest you become wretchedly unhappy and expire from jealousy.”

“My infatuation was but a momentary lapse—a slight, thin sort of inclination.” Elizabeth smiled secretly, remembering a conversation at Netherfield with Mr Darcy on the effects of poetry. “I pray, Lydia, that your little fever of admiration will be as fleeting.”

Lydia stopped and stamped her foot. “No. It is not like that for Wicky and me. My misery upon parting from him is of the highest extreme, and I imagine his is far worse. Why do you smile so?”

“It was just something you said, my dear giddy sister. Honestly, I can sympathise with you.”

“And well you should. I do not know what is to become of me without my Wicky. What am I to do?”

“What are you to do? You could begin by ceasing all reference to him in that manner. That sobriquet sounds positively vulgar. True ladies are supposed to feign a swoon upon hearing anything remotely crude.”

“Oh, what do you know, Lizzy? Besides, I am too lively to ever faint. I had such fun in Brighton! What were you doing while I was gone? Oh Lord, I forgot. Your letter mentioned a house party somewhere. Did you meet any handsome men? Did you flirt? If you asked me those questions, I would answer yes to both. How I long to return to the seaside! We all should go there for the summer. What a delicious scheme, do you not think so? I dare say it would cost hardly anything at all. And we must have new gowns for all the balls we shall attend.” Glancing behind at the others, she whispered, “But Papa is being terribly disagreeable.”

He is, indeed, sister dear.

In such affliction as rendered her careless to surrounding objects, Lydia nearly tripped over a broken cobble. “Lord, Lizzy, why did you not warn me? I could have fallen and broken my head. Alas, it is my heart that breaks.” She placed a hand upon her bosom. “Where is my heart? I cannot feel it. I cannot feel my heart!” Turning, she ran back, calling, “Aunt Gardiner! Aunt Gardiner, I cannot feel my heart!”

Elizabeth wanted to be diverted by her youngest sister’s folly, but her own best source of happiness was somewhere in the west end, on some fashionable street or square, in a town house she had yet to set eyes upon. Already, she missed him. What was she to do? If she acted in a manner that would constitute her own happiness, she would be compelled to forget her family and her father’s house.

Lydia’s was not the only heart breaking.

Several hours later, while each occupant of the house on Gracechurch Street was quietly engaged in some activity or other—reading, sewing, playing on the floor with the children, or pulling apart a hideous bonnet bought in Brighton on a whim—the maid announced Mr Darcy. If groans were heard from the youngest Bennet daughter, the others, including the caller himself, pretended not to have noticed.

After greeting everyone in the room, Mr Darcy crouched down beside Elizabeth and the children. Surreptitiously, her little finger touched his, and he smiled.

“Who are these handsome young ladies and gentlemen?” He winked at the four gaping children. “I have heard much about you from your cousin here, so let me see whether I can guess your names.” He proceeded to assign each of them an endearment Elizabeth had used during the ride round the park.

While the children laughed and cried out in protest, Elizabeth was well pleased he had been paying attention when she had effusively praised her beloved relations. He had remembered each affectionate term but had incorrectly assigned them, perhaps purposely. “Your coming here today is a pleasant surprise, sir.”

He whispered that he had not been able to stay away, then he glanced over his shoulder. “Your father watches us like a hawk and wishes I had stayed away. Is there a chance we might arrange a modicum of privacy?” As he helped Elizabeth gain her feet, he added, “I wish to consult with you on an important matter.”

“And I have something to discuss with you.” After a moment’s thought, Elizabeth said, “Aunt, would you like Mr Darcy and me to take the children out to the garden for air and exercise?” Mrs Gardiner readily agreed.

Immediately Mr Bennet stood and stretched. “I could use some of London’s infamous air myself. Children, would you like your uncle Bennet to chase you round the garden? Mr Darcy may chase your cousin, but he will not catch my Lizzy.”

Whatever his design might have been, Elizabeth’s father soon was hoist by his own petard. Once in the garden, the children chased after him, pestered him to run after them, clung to his arms and legs, and generally gave him neither peace nor any opportunity to eavesdrop on his daughter and her gentleman caller.

Meanwhile, Mr Darcy stood beneath the mulberry with Elizabeth, kept an eye on her father, and spoke in a whisper. “ As your future husband, I would like to accompany you to tomorrow’s meeting at Pemberton and when he did, it was with a frown. “I trust you mean any sons would be given two Christian names rather than a double family name.”

“If you prefer it, our children still would be Darcys, not Bennet Darcys. However, I should like to have a peace offering to present to my father when I inform him of the cancelled appointment and my intentions.” And so, as it should, begins the compromising between Mr Darcy and me .

Elizabeth watched as her four cousins dragged their uncle to the ground and piled atop him. “I fear this is the last time we shall be together until you come to Hertfordshire with Mr Bingley. I expect Papa, Lydia, and I shall be returning to Longbourn earlier than expected tomorrow.”

“Then I shall take my leave now, unless you wish me to stay. I would be happy to hold your hand while you speak to your father.”

“I would like that, thank you. But your presence at this juncture will only antagonise him further and— Edwin! Stop jumping on your uncle this instant!” With amused frustration, she shook her head. “I should rescue my father. So, my dear Fitzwilliam, I bid you farewell.” At her endearment, Mr Darcy looked upon her with such tender solicitude that she longed for a more intimate leave-taking.

Bending over her hand, he raised it towards his lips. The lightest but exquisite touch upon her skin was interrupted by the exaggerated clearing of her father’s throat.

On Monday morning, the wildly jolting and swaying Bennet carriage rumbled over road surfaces damaged by subsidence, its wheels hitting hard at each hole and rut.

Within, its occupants suffered their own sinking depression. Both daughters were in Mr Bennet’s black book. One was out of favour because he could approve of neither her suitor nor her intention to postpone claiming her inheritance; the other was in disgrace for having been found in Brighton seated upon Mr Wickham’s lap.

Sullen, Lydia had discovered that Mr Darcy was responsible not only for her favourite’s loss of the living in the village of Kympton but that he also had been to blame for her own expeditious removal from a lovely seaside sojourn. Angry and resentful about being abducted by her father, she was not best pleased with Elizabeth either for having brought Mr Darcy back into their lives.

From without came the creaking of leather, thudding of hoofs, jingling of metal rings on harnesses, shouts of the coachman, and the swish of his whip as he urged on the team.

Inside, no one spoke, not even Lydia, which was a blessing even though she probably thought she was punishing her father and sister by withholding her scintillating remarks.

Watching the passing scenery and eager for the awkward carriage ride to end, Elizabeth silently egged on the horses as enthusiastically as the driver; but the ride was rough and the going slow. Due to its clay soil and the heavy loads transported along it, the final section of road between London and Meryton was notoriously bad. The lane from the market town to Longbourn was worse. Blame for that could be laid to her father’s charge. The task of keeping that portion in good repair was beyond him, so he had put very little effort or expense into it.

I imagine the road to Pemberley is in excellent condition due to Mr Darcy’s diligence as a responsible landowner.

Elizabeth’s happy spirits, which seldom had been depressed before, were so much affected that morning as to make it almost impossible for her to appear even tolerably cheerful as they finally pulled up in front of her home. My father’s house.

From rows of lavender in full flower lining the gravel sweep, a herbal scent greeted her. Above, near the eaves, barn swallows swooped, feeding on insects. Chatting, her mother, Jane, Mary, and Kitty filed out of the front door, then greeted the travellers and welcomed them home.

Yes, home. But for how long shall I be welcome here? Elizabeth feared that when she left Longbourn as Mrs Darcy, she might be forbidden from returning. Soon, for me, ‘home’ will mean wherever Mr Darcy is.

“Lydia!” cried Mrs Bennet. “Why on earth are you here? Mr Bennet, what is the meaning of this? Why is she not in Brighton still? Oh, my nerves! My dear girl, are you unwell? Did the Forsters treat you poorly?”

“Mama, my heart is broken. Papa tore me away from all my friends and admirers, and I shall tell you about it once I have had something to eat, for I have not slept nor eaten anything worth mentioning since Friday night. When I awoke this morning, I was allowed only a roll and a cup of tea before we left town. Then at the coaching inn, we had only a crust of bread, a scrap of meat, and hard cheese. I am famished.”

“Well, I have news of a happier sort, Lydia,” said Mrs Bennet, patting her favourite daughter’s arm. “Netherfield is being opened anew, which means Mr Bingley is coming back for our dear Jane.”

Entwining her arm with her elder sister’s, Elizabeth said she, too, had heard of Mr Bingley’s plan. “I believe he will bring people with him again, Mr Darcy included. I am uncertain of Mr Bingley’s purpose for coming back”—she nudged Jane’s side as if to say otherwise—“but I am sure he will pay us a call as soon as may be.”