Chapter 8 From Hunsford to the High Seas #3
Their captors had taken rather more care with Mr Darcy’s bonds, but Elizabeth was used to untangling far more complicated embroidery snarls.
Like Jane, Elizabeth did not believe in accepting the first offer that came her way if the man was unsuitable, but Mr Darcy had proved himself in the last hour.
If she did not yet love him, Elizabeth believed that affection could grow from respect.
“I accept your offer. Unless you change your mind after several hours confined to a small space with me, in which case, I will not hold you to your promise.”
He laughed, a surprisingly pleasing sound, despite his face being pressed to the deck. “Perhaps neither of us knows the other as well as we thought, but if we make it seem planned, an engaged couple has greater freedom than a courting one, in terms of their ability to come to know each other.”
They would have to marry, but the prospect was not nearly as regrettable as it might have been, had Mr Darcy succeeded in proposing whilst Elizabeth was still mistaken in her understanding of his character.
The door opened just as Elizabeth succeeded in untying the first knot, revealing the young woman from earlier, with arms and hands that spoke of a life of labour. Thankfully, she did not raise the alarm. “That’s the problem with my brothers, always underestimating others.”
Elizabeth said, “Thank you for not summoning someone to bind us again.”
Miss Smith shrugged. “I am sensible of the favour I owe you, especially if it keeps my brothers out of prison. Besides, the harbour has enough small sharks to discourage jumping overboard, neither can you overpower an entire crew.”
Mr Darcy sat up, rubbing at his wrists.
Miss Smith made herself comfortable. “The voyage will be some hours. Would you tell me more about the innkeeper that you offer me?”
Her practicality reminded Elizabeth of Charlotte, and she felt a pang of sorrow that she did not know when she might see her friend. “I would also like to know more. You have the floor, Mr Darcy.”
He raised a sardonic eyebrow. “Quite literally, it seems.”
Mr Darcy was capable of teasing! Elizabeth laughed, and Miss Smith smiled.
“Mr Lucas Hunt is the son of a longstanding tenant at Pemberley but had no desire to be a farmer. He noticed that the Lambton Inn fills up quickly, and that there is a long distance between Lambton and the nearest wayhouse. He approached me to ask for a loan to build another place for horses to be rested, before a final push to Lambton.”
Miss Smith nodded thoughtfully. “Not a true inn, then, but stables aplenty and enough of a kitchen to feed and water travellers as well as their steeds.”
Perhaps she had worked at an inn before, to know the difference. Mr Darcy inclined his head. “If it proves successful, I have told him I would support a farrier in building a shop nearby, and perhaps some housing as the business grows. Mr Hunt shows a great deal of promise.”
Elizabeth shifted where she sat. “My aunt Gardiner grew up in Lambton. She said that the blacksmith and farrier there had large families. I doubt that there will be much trouble in finding young workers willing to set themselves up, as long as the wayhouse has enough custom to support them.”
Miss Smith rested a hand on her belly, only just noticeable in its roundness. “It has been my experience that if carriages can stop and allow the occupants to stretch their legs rather than complaining at the driver, they will.”
A month flew by, between the hasty report of Mr Wickham’s crimes and a highly publicised trial, the necessary arrangements of upholding Mr Darcy’s promise to the Smiths, and Elizabeth’s family fussing over her.
Even Kitty and Lydia seemed to have grown in some prudence, having heard of the ordeal, which Elizabeth treated as a blessing.
With Wickham in prison awaiting his sentencing, and Mrs Hunt, the former Miss Smith, in her new home, Elizabeth escaped her mother’s fluttering by taking refuge in Uncle Gardiner’s library.
Elizabeth had not seen her betrothed in that time, as he had been travelling between Derbyshire, Kent, Hertfordshire, and London. Managing Mama’s enthusiasm was akin to the Labours of Hercules, and so the time had flown by with scant intercourse between the two.
Mr Darcy had purchased a common licence, as Mama was willing to compromise on a great deal if it meant her daughters married from Longbourn Chapel. Elizabeth spoke to Jane about what Mr Darcy had revealed, which gave Jane the courage to express her feelings when Mr Bingley returned to Netherfield.
Bingley and Jane had also chosen to wed by common licence, and Jane was happy to share her wedding day with her dearest sister.
Their wedding clothes had been ordered from London, and they had travelled to Town for the final fittings. Almost as quickly, they were on their way back to Longbourn, where Jane and Elizabeth would spend their last night in their childhood home before their wedding.
Elizabeth was excited about marrying on the morrow, truly she was. Or as much as any woman could be excited about marrying a generous man who was good in a crisis, but whom she knew little of. Perhaps excited was the wrong word. Content.
And Elizabeth was satisfied with the arrangements. Her mama was sure to fuss, but because she enjoyed it!
Seated in the carriage with her aunt, uncle, and Jane, Elizabeth drew a book into her lap and examined the title: Lessons from a Dream by Louise Bigler. How bold, for a woman to publish openly, under her own name!
Perhaps tomorrow night, she and her new husband might read it aloud to one another.
Elizabeth was desperate for distraction from what else might happen on her wedding night, and she eased into the comfortable squabs of her uncle’s coach.
Looking at her sister, who had already fallen asleep, she opened the book: It is a truth universally acknowledged that a dream can force a change in perspective.