Chapter Twenty-Two
Longbourn
Elizabeth
Elizabeth broke the seal to Suzanne’s letter with eager delight and began to read, savouring every line.
Godfrey House, London
10 October 1811
My Dear Lizzy,
Are you well, my dear friend? It has been an age since I last wrote—pray forgive me. I have been much occupied of late with other matters. The estate thrives under my steward’s care, and Arthur will have no cause to repine when he inherits.
My son speaks of you often, and I read portions of your letters to him when he is home. For the past year he has been at Eton. I miss him dreadfully, but he wishes to be amongst his peers. Were it otherwise, I would engage tutors and masters straightway, that he would remain always with me.
How does Elinor fare? I have only your poor artistic renderings to know who she resembles—and I have only myself to blame.
I ought to have come to see you much sooner.
How is it possible that so much time has passed since we were last in company?
Despite the many assurances I gave before your departure from town, I have not once been to Hertfordshire to visit you.
It is abominable, and I wish to repair the neglect as soon as may be.
Arthur is soon to begin a different course of study, and before that change, I would have him spend some weeks in the country.
We shall come together and hope to stay two months complete.
We can take rooms at the inn in Meryton should you have not room at Longbourn.
While there, I hope to hear all your news.
I have some of my own to share, and I fear you will despise me for it.
Write to me as soon as you are able, that I may make our arrangements.
Yours ever,
Suzanne
The hint of mystery in her friend’s closing words piqued her curiosity. What confidence could Suzanne hold that would prompt such a declaration?
“Papa.” She turned from the window, the letter still in her hand.
Mr Bennet looked up from the ledger before him. His spectacles had slipped to the bridge of his nose, lending him an air of gravity he did not truly possess. Adjusting them, he regarded her with interest.
“Yes, my dear?”
“Lady Westland writes to request a visit. She and Arthur wish to stay for two months complete. Have I your permission to offer them rooms at Longbourn?”
Mr Bennet considered the matter before replying, fingers drumming on the desk.
“If we time the visit after my cousin’s departure, it should do very well.
We have three guest chambers. I would not wish to overwhelm your mother by hosting an earl and dowager countess while Mr Collins is in residence. ”
Her father’s reflection pleased Elizabeth. In former years, he might have found such confusion diverting, yet now he chose her mother’s comfort above his own amusement. “That would be perfect.” Well satisfied, she folded the letter.
Mr Bennet raised a hand. “Perhaps we should refer the matter to your mother. As mistress of this house, she must have the final word.”
Elizabeth agreed and left the room without delay, intent on finding her mother and composing her reply to Suzanne.
She found Mrs Bennet in the housekeeper’s office, deep in consultation with Mrs Hill.
“And see that we order a joint of beef,” her mother was saying, her eyes on a menu in her hand.
“That will do very well for next Thursday.”
When Elizabeth entered, her mother’s abstraction gave way to a look of pleasure. “Good morning, Lizzy.” She returned the menu to Hill, who curtsied and withdrew, leaving them alone.
Elizabeth related Suzanne’s proposal, together with her father’s deferral of the decision.
Mrs Bennet’s cheeks flushed in pleasure.
“Oh, that is very good of your father to think of my comfort. I have no objection to receiving your guests while Mr Collins is here. Indeed, the additional company might prove a blessing should the gentleman become more than I can manage.”
“Thank you, Mama!” Elizabeth pressed a kiss to her mother’s cheek. “I shall write at once. May I name the first of November for their arrival?”
“Aye, that will do very nicely. Oh, there is so much to be done. I must have the chambers prepared—an earl and the dowager countess—in my house! What an honour it will be.”
Elizabeth watched her mother bustle away.
It astonished her still, this new change in her parents—the new harmony at Longbourn.
Instead of reacting with agitation and calling for her salts, Mrs Bennet now received such news with more confidence, her pleasure moderated by sense rather than frenzy.
It is wondrous what a measure of affection and attention can accomplish, she mused.
A glance towards the casement showed the sun well past its height. She had promised Elinor a walk hours earlier. Chiding herself for losing all notion of time, Elizabeth ascended the stairs quickly to the nursery to collect her child.
Miss Lane met her at the threshold, hands twisting in dismay. Elizabeth had never seen the lady so discomposed. “Miss Lane? What is amiss?”
“Miss Fiennes is gone, madam,.” The admission was but a whisper. “I am most dreadfully sorry. She has been asking after you since morning, and she slipped away whilst I was putting her books aside.”
Elizabeth’s heart tightened. “Where have you searched?”
“The house and the gardens nearest the house. The maids and I were preparing to extend our search.”
“See that they are properly directed. I shall look without.”
Elizabeth was certain her daughter’s impatience had prompted the escape. How like Jane she is in every gentle quality but this. Elinor adored the outdoors; though docile in all else, the promise of a walk was temptation enough to venture out alone.
Elizabeth drew on a cloak and walking boots and went straight to the wilderness path she and Elinor most often took.
As she crossed the lawn, she saw the gate standing open, a sure sign of her daughter’s route.
Picking up her pace, she hurried forwards, hoping to find the child within its walls.
The second gate, too, hung ajar, confirming that she had quitted the grounds altogether.
Dread gathered within her. How could she have gone so far? She is so small—how will she know her way if she grows weary?
For ten anxious minutes Elizabeth searched, scanning each hedge row, each shadowed bend in the path, watching for the flicker of blue that marked her little girl’s frock.
Oakham Mount rose before her, and still no trace appeared.
Her breath came short; her heart pounded; tears stung her eyes. She was becoming wrought with panic.
A horse’s whinny sounded close by. Elizabeth turned sharply. From the rise ahead, Mr Darcy approached, astride his great black beast, Elinor nestled safely in his arms.
Gasping a sob, Elizabeth stumbled forwards. At the sound, Elinor lifted her head, and recognising her mother, smiled in sleepy delight. She looked tired but well.
Mr Darcy drew rein, and Elizabeth reached up to receive her daughter. Elinor came readily, nestling close, her chilled fingers pressing against her mother’s neck. Elizabeth stifled a shiver and kissed the child’s temple.
“I rode a horse, Mama,” The words came drowsily, half muffled against her shoulder. “Did you see?”
Elizabeth’s laugh broke through the remnants of her fright. “Yes, dearest, I saw.” She turned towards Mr Darcy. “I thank you, sir, for your assistance. Elinor slipped away when I failed to appear for our walk.”
At the sound of her name, Elinor stirred. Her hair was tumbled, and Elizabeth brushed it smooth before kissing her cheek. “You did not come, Mama. I waited and waited.”
“I was late,” Elizabeth admitted softly, “and I am sorry. But you know you must not wander off by yourself—least of all beyond the garden.” She drew in a steadying breath, mindful of their company and unwilling to indulge her alarm before him.
Elinor’s arms tightened round her mother’s neck. “I am sorry.”
Mr Darcy stepped nearer, reins looped loosely over his arm. “May I escort you back to Longbourn?” he asked.
Too spent to refuse, Elizabeth agreed. He walked beside her, leading his horse. For some moments, neither spoke. “I was pleased to make Miss Fiennes’s acquaintance.”
“Where did you find her?” Elizabeth glanced down; Elinor’s breathing had evened—she was asleep.
“Half-way up the hill. She was seated on a rock, her dress soiled and cheeks streaked with dust, as though she had stumbled a few times. The poor imp looked exhausted. I dismounted and asked her name. She told me, quite proudly, that she was Miss Fiennes of Longbourn and was on an adventure.”
Elizabeth gave a soft laugh. “Aye, that is what we call our little outings. She adores them, and the promise of one is the only thing that ever robs her of patience.”
Mr Darcy looked thoughtful. “Shall I carry her for you?”
She declined, politely. “I am quite equal to it, I assure you. I have carried her a greater distance before. But I thank you for offering.”
He inclined his head and fell silent. The quiet between them unsettled her; silence had always been dangerous in Fiennes’s company. He is not Fiennes. Still, she grasped at the first topic that came.
“Lady Westland means to visit,” she blurted. “I have not seen her since I departed London though we often exchange letters.”
He turned to her with interest. “My aunt’s sister? What a coincidence that we should both be here at the same time.”
Encouraged, Elizabeth pressed on. “Yes, it was her letter that delayed my collecting Elinor for our walk. I have yet to send my reply.”
“My aunt holds her sister in high regard. We have been often in company.” His glance returned to her. “Do you still correspond with Lady Matlock as well?”
“Less frequently. She has ever been kind.”
“I must write to her of our meeting once more.” He seemed pleased. “I am ordered to London for Christmastide—perhaps I shall tell her then.”
Elizabeth feigned surprise. “You would tease your poor aunt? I never thought you capable, sir!” She allowed herself a playful look, pleased when he laughed outright. “And do you mean to invite your sister to Netherfield Park?”
“Miss Bingley assures me Georgiana would be most welcome. I shall leave her to decide, though I imagine my sister may seek the peace and civility of Longbourn rather than endure the attentions of my host’s sisters.”
“Yes, pray tell her we should be most pleased to have her call whenever she feels the need to escape.” The look Elizabeth gave him carried gentle irony, her meaning perfectly clear.
When they reached Longbourn’s stables, Elizabeth paused and faced him fully. “You have my heartfelt thanks, Mr Darcy. I shall not forget your kindness…or the relief you have given me this day.”
“It was no trouble, madam. I am glad to have been of service.” He mounted with the aid of the mounting block and touched his hat in farewell. “Until the evening party at Lucas Lodge, then.” With that, he turned his horse and rode off.
Elizabeth watched him ride away. A strange mingling of gratitude, longing, and…fear stirred within her. With a sigh, she made her way to the house, her precious burden now asleep. Miss Lane met her at the door, arms reaching out to accept her young charge.
Her own arms aching, Elizabeth withdrew to her chamber to compose her reply to Suzanne’s letter.
Longbourn, Hertfordshire
14 October 1811
Dearest Suzanne,
Pray forgive the slight delay of this missive.
I would have replied at once, but I was engaged in the search for my child.
It seems Elinor and Arthur share a trait in common: they both delight in wandering off when left unattended.
My errant daughter was fortunately found by a gentleman you know well.
Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy is presently residing with a friend at Netherfield Park.
My daughter’s estate was leased last month by a gentleman from the North.
Mr Charles Bingley—an amiable man by every account.
His sisters, however, are another matter.
What little I have seen does not speak well of them.
The younger is proud and fancies herself above her company, though I suspect she may possess some hidden depths.
The elder I have yet to fathom; she appears indifferent, and I rather think she married for consequence.
She had no need of money; the Bingleys’ fortune, you see, comes from trade.
He has shown decided admiration for Jane.
She, in turn, likes him exceedingly, though after two meetings she cannot truly know him.
I am half-minded to investigate the gentleman further, yet his intimacy with Mr Darcy may serve as sufficient testimony to stay my hand.
Have you ever known the latter to befriend anyone unscrupulous or untrustworthy?
He appears a man of integrity, and I hope, for Jane’s sake, that he is a gentleman in every sense.
My father and mother are delighted at the prospect of welcoming you and Arthur on the first of November.
Should that date suit, pray write directly, and I shall make every preparation for your arrival.
I own myself most eager to see you at long last. My present life now feels so far removed from our time in London that your company will make it seem real once more.
Mama is all aflutter at the thought of entertaining such distinguished guests.
She governs herself with more circumspection than in the past, and her excitement is becomingly restrained.
I confess, I half-expected to see the Mrs Bennet of old re-emerge when I told her of your wish to visit.
She has just come in to bid me ask after your favourite dishes—Arthur’s as well.
Mama is resolved that your stay shall want for nothing.
I shall send this letter by express; my impatience will brook no delay, and I can scarcely contain my excitement! Pray send a reply soon!
Your ever-affectionate friend,
Elizabeth
She sanded and sealed the letter before handing it to a footman with orders that it be sent express.
As she mounted the stairs, her thoughts returned to the image of her daughter cradled in Mr Darcy’s arms—nestled there as though she had long been familiar with his embrace.
Why did the picture seem so natural—so right?
She told herself it was only gratitude that stirred her so; yet her heart could not be persuaded.