Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
F itzwilliam Darcy was used to getting what he wanted, when he wanted it. He had spent many years avoiding the young misses who were husband hunting as well as their strong-willed mamas attempting to place their daughters within his reach. Never before had he been forced to imagine himself chasing after a lady—never before Elizabeth.
Her precipitate disappearance was confusing, and in darker moments, he feared the worst. Had she learnt to be offended by his actions? On further reflection, had she revived her initial poor opinion of him?
After her note arrived at Rosings Park, little time passed before Darcy was asking his valet to pack his bags and notifying Fitzwilliam of their imminent departure the following morning.
Sitting down to dinner that night with Mr and Mrs Collins as guests was dreadful. He made every effort to allow disdainful stares to fall on both characters throughout the evening—it was easy enough to do, as he felt ample contempt towards them. Mr Collins took no notice of his brooding, but he could sense some apprehension in Mrs Collins.
Mrs Collins had been seemingly determined to appeal to his softer side, complimenting him here and there, as if a mirror image of Miss Bingley, or perhaps she was parroting her husband’s behaviour.
An empty chair sat to his left, which he assumed had been intended to hold Elizabeth. How differently the evening would have been with her by his side.
The gentlemen decided to forgo separating from the ladies after dinner in favour of a scheme to encourage their guests to depart sooner. When the rest of the drawing room’s inhabitants were well distracted, Mr Darcy placed himself next to Mrs Collins and in low tones asked her, “I understand Miss Bennet left this morning?”
“Yes, sir. She longed to see her family.”
“I hope they are well.”
“Yes, I believe they are all in good health. They were impatient for her to return to them.” Almost as an aside, the lady added quietly, “Equally, I believe she was eager to escape Kent, in order to avoid certain persons who would take advantage of her trusting and na?ve nature.”
Mrs Collins did not afford him a glance as she said so, nor did she sound censuring, but more provoking words she could not have uttered. Darcy felt himself flush even as he wondered at her meaning.
“What is it you are talking of?” Lady Catherine interrupted, “Let me hear what it is.”
Mrs Collins rose and cast Darcy a disdainful glance as she moved to sit nearer to his aunt. “We are speaking of music, your ladyship.”
Darcy coughed and stared after her, some part of him astonished by the ease and speed with which she had lied—but equally alarmed by her suggestion. He resolved that as soon as he could, he would speak to her again, though by the end of the night, he had not been afforded the chance to do so.
The next day, they departed Kent at first light and were back in London well before the noon hour. His instinct was to follow Elizabeth directly to Hertfordshire after dropping Fitzwilliam in London, but he hesitated. His mind had been busily replaying each and every one of their meetings, and he found himself disappointed by his own conduct with her. He had allowed himself to shed all principles of propriety. Did it make her feel that he had no respect for her? Why else would she leave with no word at the first sign that the roads would allow travel? Why else would her friend have seemed censuring of him?
Reluctantly, he decided that he could not merely rush off to Hertfordshire but instead would bide his time in London and hope to return at a later date with Bingley.
Once in London, he was thrust back into the daily responsibilities expected of him. His days were dictated by a mass of correspondence waiting on his desk as well as a younger sister eager for his attention. Friends began leaving their cards and invitations arrived. All of these were accomplished with little enjoyment, yet a semblance of routine began again.
Bingley made quick time of his arrival at Darcy House, coming the very day Darcy sent his cards around. Darcy was happy to welcome his friend into his study, though uncertain of the conversation’s outcome .
Rather than remaining behind his large mahogany desk, he rose to shake Bingley’s hand and indicated they should sit in two comfortable chairs situated by the marble fireplace. Before he could offer refreshments, Bingley asked energetically, “When did you return to London?”
“Two days ago, now,” Darcy replied.
“And your family in Kent is in good health? As well as Georgiana?”
“They are, I thank you. And your family?”
“Hurst and Louisa remain in Scarborough, while Caroline and I returned last week,” Bingley replied. “She is eager, as you might imagine, for all that London can offer this Season. I believe she has left her card at every house in Mayfair in under three days’ time! I am impatient for Hurst and Louisa to return in a fortnight to take her off my hands.”
“I imagine she is, as you say, eager to be entertained by all the ton has to offer,” replied Darcy evenly.
The two friends discussed upcoming events and planned to meet for lunch later in the week at their club, when Bingley providentially steered the conversation in the right direction.
“And how did you keep yourself busy in Kent?” Bingley asked.
“We had the unexpected pleasure of some acquaintances staying nearby.”
With Bingley’s questioning glance, Darcy continued, “You might remember that Mr Bennet’s cousin is my aunt’s rector? He is newly married to a young lady from Hertfordshire. Mrs Collins was formerly Miss Charlotte Lucas.”
“Ah, yes!” Bingley’s recognition and general joviality were immediate. “I do remember Miss Lucas. A kind woman. I had not heard about their marriage.”
Darcy continued, “From what I gathered, it came about rather suddenly after we departed the area. In any case, Miss Elizabeth Bennet was with them. We were not often in company with those residing in the parsonage, but we did spend some time together.”
Propriety dictated Darcy should protect Elizabeth’s reputation by keeping their time together private, though Bingley would be a logical person for Darcy to confide in, especially as he was familiar with both parties.
“Miss Elizabeth in Kent! How splendid!”
“Fitzwilliam accompanied me as well.”
“Ah yes,” Bingley responded. “I am certain he was a welcome addition to your family party.”
Darcy hesitated before he went on. He did not often apologise nor admit he had done wrong, so the next, while necessary, was not easy to undertake.
“While in company with Miss Elizabeth—” Darcy cleared his throat, and continued, “I became aware of a misapprehension as it relates to her eldest sister. I—I was made aware of the possibility that my previous advice concerning her affections for a particular gentleman were in fact—inaccurate.”
Bingley brushed a speck of dust off of his sleeve and looked up at Darcy with an expression of curiosity. “What are you saying, Darcy? Are you referring to me? Am I the particular gentleman?”
“Miss Elizabeth is of the opinion that there had been a strong attachment.”
“She was attached to me,” he said blankly. He rose to pour a glass of brandy and once again sat down. He ran his hand over his face.
“This is all very confusing. How can you be certain this information Miss Elizabeth passed on is not a campaign for her sister’s own machinations? Caroline would certainly think it was. The match would have benefited Miss Elizabeth as well. It seems rather outrageously forthright of her to enlist your assistance in this business. Besides, Miss Bennet dropped the acquaintance with my sisters—not one letter,” Bingley grumbled.
“As to that,” Darcy responded, “I know that the lady desired to continue the acquaintance. Miss Bennet—Miss Jane Bennet—has been in London since January. Miss Bingley made me aware of this fact nearly two months ago, and I agreed that seeing her could only be harmful to you. Miss Bennet called at Hurst’s town house, and your sisters waited a fortnight to return that call at her relations’ home in Cheapside, but only to ensure Miss Bennet understood their acquaintance was at an end.”
Bingley straightened; his attention engaged. “Miss Bennet visited in January? That long ago…”
Bingley rose to gaze out of the large window, sipping his drink as he looked out on the city beyond. “It seems I shall never know what her true feelings were. Perhaps that is for the best. You did not want me to align myself with that family. You and Caroline—you cared only for your own reputations.” This he spoke to the window, but his reflection in the glass revealed his irritation.
“That is not true. And there is still time to find out her feelings, man. Visit her in London. Open Netherfield. Seek her out. Find out the truth.”
Bingley swallowed his brandy in one gulp, set the empty glass down on the windowsill and turned back to Darcy. “I find I can barely remember my feelings as they were then. And London has been extremely diverting. Did I not tell you about the lovely young lady Caroline introduced me to?”
“No.”
“She is an angel…” Bingley responded with a wistful look in his eyes. “Long raven-black hair and a substantial estate she will inherit in Surrey.”
Darcy was too amazed by his friend’s seemingly indifferent sentiments to be polite in his response. “Did you not also call Miss Bennet an angel?”
“I do not know what you want from me,” Bingley sputtered, appearing to find the topic exceedingly exasperating. “I do not relish in your meddling—or that of my sister. But I find that I do not have any interest in renewing the acquaintance. I cannot see why you are pressing the issue. You will excuse me. I have another engagement.” With that, Bingley quit the room, not bothering to look back.
Darcy sat for a moment in glum astonishment. It had gone very differently than expected. He had hoped to relieve himself of the burden of information and be immediately invited to Netherfield. He had hoped, for once, that Bingley’s affection would be more steadfast, more reliable.
He would have understood if Bingley was hurt, but disinterest? Too shocking by half, really. Exceedingly. He never imagined such a result to their discussion. More fool him. In truth, he had been more concerned with how the conversation would benefit his pursual of Elizabeth. Arrogance and selfishness, indeed. He dropped his head back against the soft, leather chair. First Elizabeth, now Bingley. How could he have been so wrong at predicting Bingley’s reaction? Darcy was at a loss for what to do next.
The joy of being with her relatives in London did ease some of the unhappiness Elizabeth felt every time she thought of her trip to Kent. Dining with her aunt and uncle allowed for lively and intelligent exchanges that challenged and diverted her, and their children provided many hours of amusement. Gradually, she felt her spirits begin to lift and saw this mirrored in her sister, too.
It produced no little astonishment in Elizabeth and Jane, returning home from a walk with their young cousins one afternoon, to find Sir William Lucas, his daughter, Maria Lucas, and their own youngest sister, Lydia, sitting in their aunt’s drawing room.
Their young cousins could not contain their excitement and rushed to greet Lydia, amid shrieks of delight. They were soon hurried off to the nursery while Elizabeth and Jane civilly welcomed the guests.
“Sir William and Maria! Welcome to London! I hope you have left your family in good health?”
“What brings you to town, sir?” Jane asked.
Sir William Lucas stood to greet them, “Oh yes, yes—thank you, ladies. All are in good health—Lady Lucas and of course, John and Harold. We are travelling through town on our way to Kent.”
“Kent?” Elizabeth asked, her eyes wide with surprise.
“I have had a capital idea!” Sir William began in his customarily jovial manner. “Lady Lucas is in Dorset visiting her ailing aunt, so Maria and I thought we would visit Charlotte to see how she is getting on. She has been so busy keeping her new home that we have barely heard a word from Hunsford. We thought to surprise her with a short visit—only a month, you see—to attend to Charlotte’s contentment, of course, and to enjoy all that Kent has to offer.”
If only Elizabeth could find a polite way to discourage any such anticipation!
“We will stay with my sister in town this evening and travel to Kent on the morrow. As you can see, Maria has invited Lydia as her companion for our trip. ”
“I wanted to travel to Brighton this summer with the regiment as Mrs Forster’s special guest,” Lydia pronounced with no effort to disguise her peevishness, “but our father imagined my request as a general desire to travel, and so here I am—on my way to spend my summer with our bore of a cousin!”
“Lydia!” Jane scolded and turned to their other guests. “Pray pardon Lydia’s manners. I am sure you will all have a lovely trip.”
Lydia rolled her eyes and asked her aunt if there were any more lemon biscuits to send along in the carriage.
“You may go and see Cook, Lydia,” their aunt responded tersely. Elizabeth, seeing her opportunity to tell someone how things stood, rose to follow her.
“Lydia!” Elizabeth hissed as she followed her sister down the passageway to the kitchens. “Lydia, I must speak to you before you depart. Please assure me you will be on your best behaviour while in Kent. Mr Collins will not brook anything but thorough compliance of his expectations.”
“Oh Lizzy! What a joke. Who could possibly fear that potato of a man?” Having found a platter of the desired biscuits, Lydia set about noisily and untidily eating them, while also stuffing her pockets with extras.
“I know it is not in your nature and it will not be easy for you, but I have only just left Hunsford. I want to prepare you for his directives.”
Lydia laughed heartily and nearly choked. Bits of biscuit shot across the room and down the bodice of her gown. “I would like to see him try!” She patted Elizabeth on the arm, then turned and barrelled back up the stairs to the drawing room.
Their visit was as fleeting as it was turbulent. Just as quickly as the surprise travelling party had arrived, they were taking their leave to board their carriage.
Elizabeth was pleased to hear her father had not allowed Lydia to travel alongside the militia to Brighton, but that Lydia was on her way to visit the Collinses was equally concerning. She tried to imagine the shock that was about to befall the parsonage. She hoped Sir William would ease the tension and provide a buffer for Lydia’s outspoken and silly ways.
Elizabeth barely slept that night with worry. Should she have said more to Lydia? At the least, she should have offered to hold anything of a personal nature that her sister carried with her.