Chapter 6
Athick, heavy blanket of mist shrouded the gentle rolling hills of the Hertfordshire landscape from Darcy’s eyes. Autumnal leaves, in all their shifting hues, peeked through the veil at the edge of the woods that stood near the boundary between Longbourn and Netherfield. It seemed even when the path before him remained unclear, Darcy would always be drawn unfailingly back to her.
His restless mount shifted beneath him, agitated by the rigidity in his master’s bearing. Awakened repeatedly from his slumber, plagued as he was by visions of a troubled Elizabeth, an early morning ride had seemed to be a welcome reprieve. The haziness of his surroundings, however, only perturbed his already muddled thoughts.
How could he possibly remain in company with the Wickhams without his secrets from the past summer coming to light? Yet, how could he possibly leave Elizabeth to endure their company alone? The mere thought of abandoning her to fend off Wickham unaided caused Darcy to feel ill. He could scarcely withstand returning to Netherfield without her while the scoundrel remained at Longbourn.
What would Elizabeth think if she knewI was the cause of her present suffering? Surely, I could have tried harder to separate Miss Lydia from her unscrupulous beau? The thousands of pounds spent upon the marriage might have induced a more palatable bridegroom to accept a ruined, thoughtless girl like Lydia Bennet.
Then again, Darcy recalled the new Mrs Wickham’s stubborn refusal to leave the squalor of the seedy London apartments where he had found them before the marriage. It did not matter how many times he turned over the possibilities in his mind, Darcy always came to the inevitable conclusion: preserving Elizabeth’s respectability was worth everything, even the irksome prospect of gaining George Wickham as a brother. There was nothing for it. He must remain in Hertfordshire while Bingley continued his courting of Miss Bennet, and while he did not intend to woo Elizabeth until after the Wickhams’ departure, he could still be the support she needed during what had to be an exceedingly unsettling time.
Lost in his thoughts, he had allowed his stallion his head, and unlike Darcy, his mount had little trouble in finding the path back to Netherfield. After handing the reins to an eager young stable boy, Darcy climbed the brick steps of the manor home’s front entrance and passed his greatcoat and hat to Mr Jennings, whose tense bearing belied his calm, usually unruffled appearance. Shrieks emanated from the front sitting room, and as Darcy followed the distressed sounds, the butler called out to him.
“Sir, I-I thought it best to inform you the mistress has lately returned to Netherfield.”
“Mistress?” Darcy replied, confusion furrowing his brows until a particularly loud screech reached his ears. “Do you mean to say that Miss Bingley has arrived, Jennings?”
“Yes, sir. Only just.”
At times like these, Darcy truly hated being right. Why had Bingley left his sister a note?
“Have you completely lost your senses, Charles?” Miss Bingley’s brutal chastisement of her brother had finally reached a volume that could not be contained by the sitting room door.
“Do you know what you have done? You have forced me to return to this savage little wilderness to rescue you from the clutches of that fortune-hunting family! And to make matters worse, you have brought Mr Darcy back within reach of that scheming Miss Eliza! You saw how she threw herself at him at Pemberley! How could you do such a thing!”
Bristling with indignation, Darcy swiftly entered the room. Bingley sat with his arms crossed, glaring at his sister, while Miss Bingley was so startled by his sudden appearance that she fell silent. After taking a moment to collect herself, she rallied with a pitiful attempt to gain Darcy’s support.
“Surely, you must agree that Netherfield, charming though it is, cannot provide my brother with the most pleasing society? I had thought he intended to give up the lease altogether and search for an estate in the north—closer to Derbyshire perhaps?”
Her honeyed tones set Darcy’s teeth on edge just as easily as her unladylike shrieks. There was something he found distinctly unappealing about dishonesty.
“I am afraid I cannot agree with you. The company in Hertfordshire has not been lacking. I believe Bingley and I shall be well entertained during our stay,” Darcy replied with as much nonchalance as he could muster.
Turning her attention to her brother, Miss Bingley asked, “And how long shall this stay be?”
“Well, Caroline, if you had actually let me finish earlier, I would have told you my intent is to stay until Miss Jane Bennet has accepted my hand or turned me away. I am sorry you are so displeased at the possibility of gaining such an agreeable sister, but I shall not be moved. I love Miss Bennet, and that is all you need know of the matter.”
Darcy had to admit he was rather impressed with his friend. Bingley did not back down, despite his sister’s vitriol, and judging by her expression, his friend’s firm stance was unanticipated. What troubled Darcy, however, was the calculating gleam in Miss Bingley’s eyes as she took in her brother’s resolve.
“Very well, Charles. If you are so determined, then I suppose I must change my gown and remove the dust from the road ere we depart.” And without so much as another word, Miss Bingley turned to exit the room.
She had almost passed through the door before Bingley had recovered his wits enough to ask, “Depart?”
“Why yes! I assume you mean to call on Miss Bennet this morning?” After a weak nod from her brother, Miss Bingley continued. “Then I must accompany you! Indeed, how would it look to poor Miss Bennet if she knew I was in the county and failed to call?” With a smile filled with false sweetness, Miss Bingley quit the room.
“What just happened, Darcy?”
“I cannot say I know for sure, but I doubt your sister has changed her mind regarding the Bennets in a matter of minutes. My conjecture is she means to interfere, which you must agree, she cannot do while sitting alone at Netherfield.”
“Blast!” Bingley slapped his hands on the armrests of his chair, frustration written plain upon his face. “I am anxious enough as it is. I do not need Caroline complicating matters with Miss Bennet!”
“Can you not simply return her to the Hursts?” Darcy asked, his tone laced with sympathy.
“With her current attitude, Hurst would send her straight back. She is, after all, my responsibility until she marries. No, if I mean to do this properly, I must learn to manage her—for Miss Bennet’s sake.”
While Darcy applauded his friend’s efforts, after a single carriage ride of three miles he was tempted to ask if the Bingleys had any other relations with whom Miss Bingley could reside—preferably living in the Scottish Highlands or perhaps the Isle of Man. Shaking off the negative diatribe concerning Meryton and its surrounds, Darcy entered Longbourn eager despite all circumstances to see Elizabeth.
The two eldest Bennet daughters were no doubt surprised to see Miss Bingley, and Elizabeth in particular looked upon that lady’s attention to her elder sister with understandable suspicion.
“My dear Miss Bennet! It has been so long since we were last together. Come, you must tell all that has occurred in my absence.”
“Actually, Caroline, Miss Bennet and I were hoping to take a walk in the garden, were we not?”
“Oh nonsense! You must leave the ladies to become reacquainted. I am sure there will be time for walks aplenty, though I do hope the weather does not grow too cold. We would not wish dear Miss Bennet to catch a chill, especially as she seems so susceptible to trifling colds!”
Elizabeth’s poor sister sat awkwardly between the feuding pair, and while Bingley appeared agitated, Elizabeth looked as though she would skewer Miss Bingley if given the chance. Just as Darcy was about to speak to her, he was anticipated by Wickham.
“My dear, you seem distressed. Are you sure you do not wish for a stroll in the garden? There was a matter I wished to speak of, if you recall.”
“Again, I have no notion of why that would be necessary. There cannot be two people in the room with less to speak of than the pair of us,” Elizabeth replied evenly, looking past Wickham’s shoulder to the window beyond.
“I find I would not mind the opportunity to stretch my legs. Perhaps I could accompany you, Miss Elizabeth.” Darcy offered.
Just as Elizabeth looked up, her eyes finding his as a hopeful smile spread across her lovely visage, Mrs Wickham intervened.
“Whyever would you wish to leave if you have just arrived? Besides, Lizzy does not need so many gallant escorts,” Mrs Wickham opined, sending a glare at her new husband. “If gentlemen truly found her so interesting, she would yet be married, but then again, I suppose I cannot blame her for rejecting Mr Collins.”
“Lydia!” Mortification bloomed across Elizabeth’s face, and before Darcy could think of a change in topic, Mrs Bennet joined her youngest daughter.
“I certainly can blame her. To think I must one day make way for Charlotte Lucas when Lizzy could have been the next mistress of Longbourn! And with her wild ways, who knows if she will ever receive another offer!”
“Pray excuse me. I must—I must speak to Mary in the music room.” Without another word, Elizabeth swiftly rose and left the parlour. As early as Darcy could manage, he made his excuses and departed in search of her, his mind reeling at the treatment of his beloved by her own family. He had only just left the room when he found her pacing in the hall and called out her name.
At his voice, she stopped pacing, her head drooping down as she uttered in a soft tone, “I apologise for my mother and sister. While I know you are well aware of their lack of decorum, it pains me to have you witness such an appalling display.”
“I beg of you, do not discomfit yourself any further on my behalf. I simply wished to see you were well.” The weariness in her fine eyes tore at Darcy’s heart, and wishing to restore her vibrancy, he continued. “Though I suppose I ought to share in any mortification you currently bear. After all, it is not every day one finds oneself in the esteemed company of Mr Collins—yet, I was the last man you could ever…”
A brief flicker of panic crossed Elizabeth’s face before she noted the small upward turn of Darcy’s lips. Letting out a short bark of laughter, Elizabeth responded with a twinkle in her eye. “If it comforts you, by then Mr Collins was already married.” Her smile of humour faded quickly as she said, “You cannot know how long I have wished to apologise for that day. You did not deserve the cruel words I uttered without thought.”
“Pray do not concern?—”
“Lizzy, whatever are you doing in the hall, dear child?” Mr Bennet had poked his head out of his book room and was now walking towards them.
“I needed a brief change of scenery, Papa. That is all.”
Mr Bennet looked askance at his second eldest, then fixed his attention on Darcy. “I imagine all the discussions of lace and parties has quite taxed your forbearance, sir. Perhaps you would prefer a game of chess in my study?”
Not wishing to leave Elizabeth, Darcy began to demur. “That is very kind, Mr Bennet, though I would not wish to be rude and abandon the ladies or my friend, for that matter.”
“Nonsense, nonsense! I am sure Mr Bingley is suitably occupied, and as for the ladies, Lizzy has often been my only challenger at the game and is welcome to join us. What say you, Lizzy? Care to trounce your old Papa?” he asked with a twinkle in the eyes that so resembled Elizabeth’s.
“If Mr Darcy has no objections, I would be pleased to join you.” Tilting her head in his direction, Darcy’s pulse quickened as her smile turned mischievous. “Well, sir, can you brook losing to a lady?” she challenged, her humour restored.
“You seem quite confident, Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy quipped with a smile. “I look forward to a stimulating match.”
Once Mr Bennet had led them into his study, he encouraged them to play the opening game, declaring he would happily challenge the winner. After settling himself behind his desk, the Bennet patriarch picked up a weathered copy of Herodotus and left Darcy and Elizabeth to themselves; however, Darcy suspected the older gentleman was not so wholly absorbed in his reading as he pretended.
Trying to settle his nerves and act as though Elizabeth’s father was not keenly observing their interactions, Darcy focused on the game before him. It only took a few moves for him to realise that Elizabeth was quite skilled.
“You play very well, Miss Elizabeth.”
“Thank you, sir. Papa began teaching me when I was seven or eight. He captained the chess team at Oxford when he attended, so I have benefited from a very capable teacher. Mama, however, does not approve, as she does not believe any gentleman would wish for a wife who could rival him in skill.”
“Well, in this instance, your mother is wrong.”
As he lifted his gaze to her face, a becoming blush spread across her cheeks.
“I have always been intrigued by the nature of chess—the seemingly endless paths to victory, even its unpredictability at times,” Elizabeth mused, as she pondered her next move.
“’Tis not always so unpredictable, for if you are familiar with your opponent, you tend to pick up on their strategies and oft used gambits. Such knowledge allows you to plan your moves accordingly.”
“And if one miscalculates? What then?” Elizabeth asked, with a look in her eyes that Darcy could not interpret. “In my experience, the game can be easily lost when you fail to truly understand your opponent. Opportunities can be missed, and correcting your course is sometimes impossible.”
Darcy could not be certain they were still speaking of chess, and the import of Elizabeth’s words troubled him. Just as he began to respond, a cry from Mrs Bennet was heard in the hall concerning Elizabeth’s whereabouts.
“Well, my Lizzy, it seems your mother has need of you—although it appears you have routed Mr Darcy quite effectively!”
Darcy looked down at the board, and indeed Mr Bennet was correct. In only a few moves, Elizabeth would claim victory.
“Thank you, and you are right, I suppose I ought to return to Mama.”
As she began to rise, Darcy thought back to her cryptic statements on missed opportunities, and before he could stop himself, he quickly interjected in a soft tone, “I do not believe that correcting one’s course is ever impossible. It only takes the ability to see a different path beyond the one intended. As long as the desired goal is fixed and unchangeable, sometimes it is simply a sheer act of will.”
Looking deeply into his eyes, Elizabeth whispered, “An ever-fixed mark.”
Darcy’s heart was in his throat as she turned and left the room.