Chapter 12 #2
Tender-handed, stroke a nettle, and it stings you for your pains. Grasp it like a man of mettle, and it soft as silk remains
“Miss Wright, I have been meaning to discuss with you your ill treatment of Miss Bennet and—”
“Ill treatment?” cried the lady, all consternation and perplexity. “From whence arose so astonishing a misconception, sir? I absolutely stand in awe of Miss Bennet. However, I am somewhat surprised you invited her here.”
“Whatever do you mean, madam?”
“Why, Mr Darcy, do you not know? She dislikes you. Oh yes. I heard it from a maid who heard it from a Cliff House maid who overheard the Bakers, their niece, and Miss Bennet talking about you.” Miss Wright sighed theatrically. “Servants and their gossiping tongues!”
No. Why would Elizabeth dislike me? She had debated with him at Netherfield and was the only local young lady he had stood up with at Bingley’s ball. In Wyman’s Cove, she had been all sweet smiles and good-natured banter. She could not dislike him.
“And call it what you will, sir, but Miss Bennet was arguing with you just moments ago. I pity her future husband, if any man will even have such a sharp-tongued, contentious woman. No gentleman in his right mind would tolerate an attention-seeking young lady who believes she is always right. Can you image the carping and complaining he would have to endure?”
“You have said enough, madam.” He bowed to her. “If you will excuse me, there are matters requiring my attention.” Darcy proudly walked away, shoulders back. Inside he was humbled and somewhat beaten down.
No, he would not believe it. Miss Wright had to be mistaken about Elizabeth’s dislike.
They had delightfully engaged in repartee and were forming a connexion of sorts.
There was neither conflict nor aversion in either her words or her countenance.
Her deep gaze was consistently warm and unflinching.
He had thoroughly enjoyed their verbal sparring, and he refused to believe that she was being contentious.
On his great-uncle’s ornate desk in the study, Darcy found a comprehensive report from his man of business regarding Mr Horace Wright’s financial situation. Hefting the thick document, he muttered, “This will take quite a while.”
In a nutshell, the report revealed that Mr Wright had been able to discharge a portion of his own financial obligations, but his son James’s gaming debts, an enormous figure, remained unpaid.
It was evident that, after the death of Mrs Wright eight years past, there had been no attempt on the part of any of the family to reduce cost and expenditure until it was much too late.
There was nothing left in the way of dowries for any of the daughters, not that Darcy was still considering Miss Wright as a potential bride.
According to the report, her household and personal spending had contributed to the family’s pecuniary distress.
He did, however, feel a degree of pity for the three Miss Wrights.
Their predicament was not dissimilar to the five Bennet sisters’ pending difficulties.
Nor could he help feeling sorry for himself. Could gossip exchanged between a maid at Cliff House and a maid at Strandsmere be believed? Was it possible Elizabeth disliked him?
Restless and fretful, he resolved to indulge in air and exercise. The report was locked in a desk drawer, and Darcy went out for a constitutional along the headland.
After a brisk half an hour walk, while leaning on the fence rail at the cliff’s edge, he startled when Miss Wright sneaked up on him from behind.
“What, may I ask, has you looking so intently at the beach below, sir? Oh dear. Is it those disgusting seaweed-gathering cottagers again?”
By the time he turned towards her, Darcy hoped that any trace of guilt had dissipated from his countenance. He had been watching Elizabeth, who had separated from the rest of her party and was bending to pick up something entangled in driftwood on the pebbly section of the beach.
“The young ladies are returning, and I am merely ensuring they remain safe. The tide is surging landwards.” And will not even cause wet feet for some time yet.
“This coast has an extreme tidal range. Seawater rushes in rapidly, creating strong currents and dangerous conditions, so much so that walkers can become trapped between the sea and the cliff.” Were it not for the sets of steps here and at Cliff House, that is.
“And could the footman following at a discreet distance behind the young ladies not keep them safe from wet hems? I would think, Mr Darcy, that your servant there would have a much better chance of doing so than you have from up here.” Stepping beside him, Miss Wright shaded her eyes from the sun, leant slightly over the fence, and peered downwards.
“Oh. Yes. I see.” As she faced him, he wondered whether the flush on her cheeks was caused by the sun or the fact that she had seen Elizabeth in the very spot where he had been staring, admiring, and silently questioning her feelings.
“She is hardly better than the seaweed scavengers.” Miss Wright’s voice dripped with scorn. “Her little rusticities denote an entire want of gentility.”
“Of whom do you speak, my dear?”
“Papa! You must never sneak up on a person when they are so close to the edge. I was speaking of Miss Elizabeth Bennet, who is, at this very moment, down below rummaging through driftwood.”
“Ah well, she is good humour itself but not much besides that.”
Darcy drew himself up to his full, impressive, indignant height.
“Miss Bennet’s charm—her wholesomeness and straightforwardness—is typical of those from the countryside, such as may be found at Pemberley and, one might assume, at Barleybrae.
I find it utterly preferable to the affectation one encounters amongst certain members of the ton. ”
“The lady scavengers are returning.” Miss Wright clearly hoped to prevent her father from responding to Darcy’s insinuation. “Shall we meet them at the top of the steps?”
Georgiana and her party were a merry bunch as they arrived, huffing and puffing from the climb but proudly holding onto their pretty shells and rocks, pieces of coloured sea glass, and small bits of oddly-shaped driftwood.
Whatever treasure Elizabeth had found, however, was kept secreted away behind her back.
Sopping wet from swimming in the Channel, Hector, panting and drooling, bounded up the last few stone steps and vigorously shook his entire thick-furred body.
Briny water and saliva sprayed everywhere but mostly all over Miss Wright, who had been standing nearest the dog.
Screaming and ranting, she made a spectacle of herself before returning to the house with haste and with her father.
As the others moved ahead of them, Elizabeth stepped up beside Darcy and matched his pace. “I have something for you, sir.”
Wishing it could be her fond affection, he turned to her with his heart on his sleeve and in her hands.
From behind her back she produced a gentleman’s hat.
“I fear it is a little worse for wear, no pun intended.” Elizabeth brushed sand from the brim before passing it to him.
“Miss Darcy identified it as yours, so I assume it is the one you lost on your initial visit to Cliff House. May I suggest, sir, adding a pretty satin ribbon to it? One that might fasten beneath your chin. Or perhaps a brown velvet ribbon that would match your irises.” She stopped walking at the same instant he did.
Then, oh so sweetly, she smiled at him and fondly gazed into his eyes.
He considered throwing the hat into the air. She does not dislike me! “I shall take that under advisement, Miss Bennet, but it is as likely to happen as to see a hog fly with its tail forward.”
Still they stood there, lingering, smiling, looking into one another’s eyes. It was one of the most intimate moments he had ever had with another person. To Darcy’s way of thinking, they each were giving the other no cause for wishing they had bestowed themselves elsewhere.