Chapter Twelve #3
Elizabeth was sure she had heard Mr. Darcy give a low groan, but when she dared a glance in his direction, he was as rigidly still as a statue, his face an inscrutable mask.
“So you have reached an arrangement that is acceptable to you both? Forgive me, I had thought myself past all capacity for astonishment, but….”
“But just a few days ago I told you I meant never to marry,” Emma said with a laugh. “I never thought to encounter a man who would allow my… affectionate friendship with Harriet to remain a priority.”
“So this union will be more of a farce than most,” Mr. Darcy huffed.
“We will live as brother and sister,” Mr. Willoughby said. “She will have her friend, and I shall have friends of my own.”
“And you will have her fortune?” Mr. Darcy shook his head with disgust.
“Your concern is touching, sir,” Emma drawled.
“You are Miss Bennet’s friend; Miss Smith is her sister.” Mr. Darcy looked over at Elizabeth, as if expecting her to share his protestations.
Emma grimaced. “I have told my new friend Lizzy that I have felt like a guest in my sister’s home, since our father died and Isabella inherited.
Of course, I should prefer to be mistress of my own estate.
A home far away from Highbury should suit me very well, especially since the horrid little vicar married that awful woman who spoils every party she attends. ”
Elizabeth looked back at Mr. Darcy; she began to wonder if perhaps he was right in expecting her to dissuade her new friend from such a hastily formed connection.
She thought of her dear friend Charlotte, who had accepted Mr. Collins for the sake of having a home of her own rather than remaining a burden to her family. But Charlotte had no fortune.
“You have mentioned a friend of yours – Mr. Knightley, I think? Could he not act on your behalf, or your sister’s husband? Forgive me, Mr. Willoughby, but we have read your dossier, and I am aware of your need to be prudent in marriage.”
Mr. Willoughby laughed and gave them a bold wink.
“You will make somebody a terrifying wife, Miss Bennet, and I say so with every proper regard for your clever concern for Miss Woodhouse. I have made no secret of my circumstances, but the marriage settlement shall be a generous one; Miss Woodhouse may name whatever terms she likes. It will still be a most ideal arrangement for the both of us.”
“We shall live as brother and sister,” Emma repeated. “I shall have my own home, my dear Harriet, and a child to dote upon.”
“A child?” Elizabeth gasped. What she and Mr. Darcy had been about was scandalous enough!
“Your friend has as tenacious a turn of mind as you, Miss Bennet.” Mr. Willoughby grinned at her and nodded his head in a display of respect.
“She knows all about Eliza Williams, and told me that she will give me no children. So, we shall do what my uncle claims to have done. I shall hopefully escape Colonel Brandon murdering me if I offer to take Eliza’s child as my ward and heir. ”
“And I forgot to mention one vital thing, sir,” Emma said archly to her betrothed. “Since my sister’s family have come to Hartfield, they have thought there was little need for a governess for their five little beasts, when Auntie Emma would suit.”
“A legion of governesses shall arrive promptly, and in phalanx formation, to attend the child,” Mr. Willoughby said with a laugh.
Mr. Darcy shook his head. “I think you both mad, but I suppose you were compromised together, anyhow.”
Elizabeth’s eyes went wide, but once again she could not look at Mr. Darcy.
If what he said was true, the same logic must also apply to them.
She began to feel heartily ashamed of herself, as if she were no better than the philandering Sir Edward.
“You mentioned a distraction, Mr. Willoughby; I think that would be just the thing.”
Mr. Darcy crossed the room and began to pound on the door and call out for their friends, until he finally admitted defeat and came back to join them.
They agreed on a few parlor games; first they played Charades, and then Consequences, and finally The Minister’s Cat.
This last game afforded Elizabeth the defiant distinction of declaring, “The minister’s cat is a tolerable cat. ”
“The minister’s cat is an unforgettable cat,” was Mr. Darcy’s unperturbed response, and he smiled warmly at Elizabeth. When it was her turn again, she was stumped by the letter X, and surrendered to their teasing.
After this, they called for help again before resuming their search of the room, which yielded nothing more interesting than the discovery of a box of alphabet letters, and they resumed their entertainment.
The sky had begun to darken, for they were on the east side of the castle, and it was late in the afternoon.
Mr. Darcy remained strangely aloof, and Elizabeth was equally uncomfortable, though she found herself wishing that she had remained in solitude with him, for they had been merry enough together then. He was not half so easy as they all passed each other jumbled words across the table.
Emma and Mr. Willoughby were chiefly engaged in arranging increasingly ludicrous names for the child they intended to adopt together, and Elizabeth gleefully encouraged their absurdity with a few suggestions of her own. “Craigstopher surely conveys unsurpassable dignity, I am sure.”
“It is rubbish, Lizzy, but I rather like Elizabella!”
“Fredward sounds like quite the scholar,” Mr. Willoughby agreed, trying to keep a straight face. “Ralphthaniel is the appellation of a military man; nobody could deny it.”
As the newly betrothed couple carried on together in high humor, Elizabeth slid a jumbled selection of letters to Mr. Darcy: GIbrNOOD. He rearranged them to spell brooding and gave a snort of bitter laughter.
He slid a few letters toward her: VYEN. Envy.
Elizabeth looked up at him with query in her eyes, and gave him the letter Y.
With another rueful, breathy laugh, he scanned the letters for a few minutes as if unsure how to explain himself. Finally he gave her a large stack of them. BTEROHTLA.
Elizabeth took a minute longer in making out this puzzle, but when she spelled out betrothal, she shook her head at him. Did he think she envied Emma’s engagement, and that was why she had questioned it? He, too, expressed his own concerns about it. She could not make him out at all.
AHPYP. Mr. Darcy swiftly arranged her next communication, and placed a hand on his heart as he smiled at her. She breathed a sigh of relief at this, though she was not entirely sure she followed this strange conversation they were having.
He sent her two words. The first, PSEKA, and the second, VPIRAETYL, she worked on until it yielded the answer: speak privately.
There was little chance of that at present, but she did wish to understand his meaning, and she silently slid the letters YES back to him.
At long last, they heard voices in the corridor, and all four of them ran to the door and cried out; their liberation was at hand, for the sound of Cathy’s laughter was unmistakable.
“Lizzy? Emma? Let me in, let me in!”
“Let us out, let us out!” Elizabeth shouted back at her. “You have the keys, you goose!”
“Oh, right!” There was a jangling sound as Cathy fumbled for the keys, and located the correct one to unlock the door. On the other side of it, Cathy, Harriet, Mr. Tilney, Sir Edward, and Lady Allen all bombarded them with questions and concern.
“Have you been locked up all this time?”
“We were so worried about you!”
“Did you find the key to the drawbridge?”
“And not even a fire in the room!”
“But who locked you away?”
This last query they were able to answer as Elizabeth and her companions relished their freedom and joined their friends in the corridor. “We believe we know who did this, and we will tell you in privacy, but first we must locate Mrs. Clay. We believe she may be in some danger.”
They all acted with alacrity, for they were very near to the servants’ passage, and they made their way to the kitchens to ask after Mrs. Clay. They were not half way down the corridor when they heard screaming, and they all began to run.