Chapter 8
REASON TO FEAR
Darcy and his groom were embroiled in deep discussion in the stable, when out of nowhere, Lord Holland stormed up to them. His jaws twitching, he directed a menacing glower at the groom. “Leave us!”
The groom, rather wishing to take his orders from his master, walked away after Darcy ceded permission. Darcy could never recall seeing his lordship short-tempered and dismissive.
His posture threatening, Lord Holland soon answered the unasked question of what had brought about his raging attitude. “Your unguarded behaviour towards Miss Bennet is inexcusable.”
Darcy squarely met Lord Holland’s gaze. “I beg your pardon?”
“I saw the two of you together earlier today.”
“Then perhaps you should have made your presence known.”
“Had I done so, I would have embarrassed the young woman. She does not deserve to be humiliated, nor does she deserve to be hurt.”
“I would never hurt her.”
“You say that now, but there will come a time when you will, and you know of what I speak. I only pray the damage is not severe.”
“My relationship with Miss Bennet does not concern you. That being said, she understands my intentions.”
“Then you have asked her to accept your hand?” Lord Holland did not wait for an answer. He knew his friend very well. “Of course you have not, and you never will.”
“When have you ever known me to trifle with a young woman’s affections?”
“I know you have left many women heartbroken in your wake.”
“None of it my own doing—I shall not assume responsibility for every young woman whose path has crossed with my own and who found herself wishing to be the next mistress of Pemberley. What Elizabeth and I share is different, and you had better respect that. I am no fool to the way you look at her.”
Refusing to back down, Lord Holland squared his shoulders and curled his hands into fists.
“Perhaps you truly believe your intentions towards the young lady are honourable. You have delayed your departure by more than a few weeks and on more than one occasion, ostensibly to oversee your financial interests, when you and I know the true reason. However, we also know it is solely a matter of time before you do take your leave—rendering the young woman broken-hearted. When you do, I promise I will be here to pick up the pieces and help mend it back together.”
Just under a week had passed, and once again the Barrington Hall party were dinner guests at Avondale.
This vexed Caroline exceedingly, but as she was a guest herself, she dared not complain.
How delighted Caroline was that Eliza Bennet was not in the drawing room when Darcy made his way there with the rest of the gentlemen to join the ladies after dinner port.
Seizing the opportunity, Caroline sidled up beside him and persuaded him to come and sit beside her in the farthest corner of the room.
They had spent little time together as had always been their wont whenever at Pemberley and in London, and she meant to rectify that injustice that evening, her last evening at Avondale before she and her brother took their leave of Bosley.
Caroline still smarted over an earlier remark Darcy had made about his mind being agreeably engaged in meditating on the immense pleasure that a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman could bestow, when all Caroline meant to do was tempt him to sing her own praises.
Caroline was tired of Darcy being in the dark about the Bennets of Hertfordshire.
If she did nothing else, she meant to enlighten him, even at the risk of raising his ire.
Then again it would never come to that, for surely he would thank her once he had time to consider the service she had rendered on his behalf.
“It is such a pleasure to be once again amongst society after so long a spell in the country amidst the savages. Has Charles spoken to you of any of the people in Hertfordshire? While they will boast of their varied society, I found little to be pleased with and very little of good taste and decorum with which to please myself.”
Darcy shifted restlessly, but he said nothing. He accepted a glass of champagne from a passing footman.
“There was one family in particular whose lowly manners I found especially disagreeable. Had you accepted Charles’s invitation and joined us during last Michaelmas, I am certain you would have agreed.
The mother and the two youngest daughters were ridiculous, vulgar, and crude, and their fashion sense was that of barbarians. ”
“Surely you did not expect to find your neighbours donned in the latest London fashions.”
“I most certainly did. Their only hope in life is to make favourable connections.
What hope does one have if one fails to present oneself well?
Not that it would signify in their cases.
The family has no outward appearance of wealth or connections, and prepare yourself; although the father, who is at times as crass as the mother, fancies himself a gentleman, he went and married a woman whose family is in trade—merchants and country lawyers and the like.
“One would wish with all one’s heart that the poor creatures were well settled.
But with such a father and mother and with such low connections, I am afraid there is no chance of it.
What say you, Mr. Darcy? Without knowing all the particulars, tell me what do you suppose are the daughters’ chances of securing favourable matches in such circumstances? ”
“I suppose it must very materially lessen their chance of marrying men of any consideration in the world,” said Darcy, “that is, if what you say is true.”
“Why, Mr. Darcy, when have you known me to utter untruths?”
Bingley joined them. “I do not ever recall you commanding Darcy’s attention for so long a time, Caroline. What are the two of you discussing?”
“Your sister was just telling me about the dire circumstances of one of your Hertfordshire neighbours, and the unlikely prospect of them securing favourable alliances as a result.”
Bingley wrung his hands. “The family Caroline speaks of is the Bennets of Longbourn. You have met Miss Bennet. I am sure you have discerned that my sister exaggerates.”
Having just taken a sip of his drink, Darcy nearly coughed it up. “The Bennets?”
“Yes, and as I have told both my sisters, if the Bennet daughters had uncles enough to fill all of Cheapside, it would not make them one jot less agreeable.” He raked his fingers through his hair and released a heavy sigh.
“Really, Caroline, must you continue to disparage the Bennets? Why must you go on and on? What can any of that have to do with you?”
To this speech, she made no answer. Satisfied she had persuaded Darcy to give voice to the very objection he would have once he knew Eliza Bennet’s true circumstances, Caroline did not see the need to say more.
Even a connection with Lady Vanessa would not be enough to remove the stench of such horrible relations as were afforded by Eliza Bennet’s mother’s side of the family.
Darcy, Bingley, and Caroline were embroiled in uncomfortable silence when Elizabeth entered the room.
Caroline nodded. “There is Miss Eliza Bennet now.” Darcy turned in the direction Caroline had indicated. She lowered her voice to a half whisper. “I am afraid, Mr. Darcy, that this information has rather affected your admiration of her fine eyes.”
Darcy had heard enough of Miss Bingley’s venomous words. “Pardon me, Bingley, Miss Bingley.” With a curt bow he walked away, but rather than join Elizabeth, he quit the room.
Outside alone on the balcony, his mind was a tumultuous mixture of ire and confusion.
How on earth was it possible that the family Miss Bingley described was the family of the woman who now owned his heart?
Low connections, low morals—how is this to be endured?
He and Elizabeth had spoken at length about her eldest sister, but rarely did she even mention the younger ones.
As for her connections, with Lady Vanessa being her aunt—her father’s sister—Darcy never considered not all her relatives were equally as lofty.
Elizabeth found Darcy looking grave and concerned. “Sir, I must apologise; my aunt is feeling quite indisposed. She has indicated her desire to return home, and she asks that I join her.”
“Of course.”
She folded her arms under her breast and regarded him pointedly, yet her playful manner would not be repressed. “I expected you to show more concern than this; after all, who shall protect you from the likes of Miss Bingley when I am gone?”
“You must forgive me. I have recently received rather disturbing news. I am merely distracted. Of course, I am disappointed not to spend as much time in your company as I had hoped this evening. You cannot imagine how disappointed I am.”
“Then shall I expect to see you tomorrow?”
“Yes, yes, of course. I will call on you.”
Puzzled, Elizabeth walked away. No touch of his hand, no brush of his lips across her knuckles, nothing—save a distant, unreadable stare. Will I ever grow accustomed to his changeable moods?
Elizabeth’s intercourse on the balcony with Mr. Darcy left her in a foul mood.
Now it was her turn to be silent and grave on the carriage ride home.
While the butler, the housekeeper, and Lady Vanessa’s maid made a commotion attending to their mistress’s comfort, Elizabeth quickly made her way up the stairs to her room.
She drifted over to the window and peered out at the low-hanging moon.
After a few minutes, she sighed heavily.
There really was only one way for her to sort out the enigma that was Mr. Darcy, and that was to commit her thoughts to paper.
If I am quick about it, I shall be done before Betsy arrives.
Elizabeth took a seat at her desk, retrieved the key from the safe place she had detected just underneath, unlocked the drawer, and retrieved a fresh piece of paper. Once her pen was mended, she began: