Chapter 14
Saturday’s Journey to London
Mr. Collins wished to join them on the journey to Hertfordshire, but he did not have a horse to ride alongside and should it rain, there would not be room in the carriage.
Charlotte convinced him to give his sermon as planned on Sunday, then when his curate was prepared, he could join them in a few days.
Elizabeth could spare a little pity for him. He had never been out of Lady Catherine’s good graces before, and she knew enough of that great lady to know she would not make it easy on her parson. But Elizabeth could not be anything but relieved that he would not ride in the carriage with them.
They rose early on Saturday and dressed warmly in traveling clothes, then closed their trunks before sitting down for breakfast. Elizabeth bypassed the dining room and went to the kitchen to personally thank Mrs. Hopkins for the basket she had prepared for them.
“You’re that welcome, Miss Bennet. And here’s that receipt, like I promised.”
Elizabeth took it with a smile and tucked it into her pocket. “Mr. Darcy will be pleased to have it. He is very fond of your muffins.”
Mrs. Hopkins blushed. “I’m pleased to hear that. You tell Mr. Darcy he is welcome to them any time he is in Hunsford.”
“I will.” Elizabeth pressed her hand and smiled again, then skipped out of the kitchen, in too good a mood to be sedate.
Soon Darcy’s coach arrived, and they were off to London. The ladies rode in the carriage while Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam rode alongside.
“Do quit mooning over Mr. Darcy, Eliza. You will put me off my breakfast.”
Elizabeth turned sharply from the window—where she had indeed been watching Mr. Darcy—and faced her friend. “I am not mooning!”
Charlotte gave her a doubtful look and reached into the basket for a muffin. Maria giggled in the seat beside her sister and Elizabeth glared at her.
“Wait until your turn comes, Maria,” she teased.
Maria’s eyes widened and she leaned back into the squabs. “I do not know that I wish for a suitor.”
“That is wise, since you do not have one,” said Charlotte before biting into a muffin.
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Ignore her, Maria. You are only fifteen. It is good you do not wish for a suitor at this time. Enjoy your girlhood while you may.”
Charlotte sighed but nodded. “Yes, there is no rush. But do not leave it too long. It would be best to marry sometime between eighteen and two and twenty. Old enough to know your mind but young enough to retain your bloom.”
Elizabeth laughed lightly. “Listen to your sister, Maria. She is a font of wisdom.”
Charlotte mock scowled at Elizabeth before passing her a muffin. “I am glad to know you have finally learned to appreciate my judgment,” she said primly.
Elizabeth and Maria laughed while Charlotte sat a little straighter and looked out the window.
Darcy rode alongside the carriage with a light heart. He thought he heard Elizabeth’s laughter coming from within, but it must be his imagination. He would never hear anything over the wheels and the horses.
“Wipe that look off your face.”
Darcy started. “What look?”
“You are gazing at that carriage like a starving man looks at meat. You cannot even see her, man!”
“I am doing no such thing!” Darcy cried, affronted.
Fitzwilliam scoffed. “Whatever you say, Cousin.”
Darcy pulled ahead of his cousin with a glare, though he secretly wondered if he had turned into a moon-eyed calf without realizing it. But he could not truly care. He was entirely too pleased with his life at the moment to be concerned with his cousin’s opinions.
Less than an hour later, Colonel Fitzwilliam called out to his cousin and Darcy looked back at him just as he felt a large drop of water land on his face.
“It is beginning to rain!” called the colonel.
They signaled the driver to stop and climbed aboard the carriage.
It all happened so quickly that the ladies looked at them in astonishment before shifting over on the bench to make more room.
Elizabeth had taken the back-facing seat with Maria and Charlotte sharing the forward-facing bench.
Now Colonel Fitzwilliam happily plopped down between the sisters, making Maria’s eyes grow wide and Charlotte chuckle.
He winked at Elizabeth as Darcy stepped in behind him and took the open seat next to Elizabeth.
She blushed and smiled happily, only moving over a little to make space for him.
Before anyone could object or suggest a change in the seating arrangement, Colonel Fitzwilliam began speaking.
He could be very long-winded when the mood struck him, and he regaled them with tales of marches across the peninsula and incompetent soldiers.
Maria was spellbound, and he ate up her attention like a greedy pug.
Charlotte gave Elizabeth a look and they shared a secret smile as they opened the basket Mrs. Hopkins had packed and passed out food to the gentlemen.
Colonel Fitzwilliam only stopped speaking long enough to take a bite of a muffin, followed by, “I say, that is an uncommonly good muffin!”
“I have the receipt if you would like a copy,” said Elizabeth.
“Thank you, Miss Bennet, I may take you up on that.”
And just like that, he was back in his story, Maria’s eyes still wide and attentive.
They stopped at an inn to wait out the rain for an hour before climbing back aboard. The change in weather had brought a chill to the air and Darcy fetched blankets from beneath the benches for the ladies.
Colonel Fitzwilliam declared he would ride, for he preferred the open air to a closed carriage as long as he was dry.
Darcy opted to ride inside. Charlotte and Maria sat on the forward-facing bench, sharing a large blanket.
Maria looked sleepy and settled herself into the corner to rest as Darcy took the seat beside Elizabeth.
She smiled and held open her blanket, ignoring the look Charlotte sent her.
What could they possibly get up to with their friends sitting a mere three feet away?
Darcy happily settled next to Elizabeth and within three miles, both Charlotte and Maria had drifted off to sleep. Darcy scooted a little closer to Elizabeth and reached for her hand beneath the blanket. She grasped his firmly and looked back at him with a blush.
“Are you not sleepy?” she asked in a whisper.
“Not at all. You may rest your head on my shoulder if you are tired.”
She smiled and moved around until she was tucked under his arm, her head on his chest. She had intended to stay awake, but the warmth of her position combined with the motion of the carriage soon lulled her to sleep.
Darcy held her tighter, making sure she did not fall forward on the seat or sit in such a way that her neck would be sore.
Unbeknownst to him, Charlotte awoke and watched him for some time.
She saw how he periodically kissed Elizabeth’s head, or how he stroked the hair that hung over her shoulder.
He would take that one long, lazy curl and wrap it about his palm, twisting it up toward her scalp, before releasing it to fall down her back and repeating it all over again.
She saw the look in his eyes as he watched her friend sleep and the protective way that he held her. Charlotte was not romantic, but if anyone could have changed her mind, it would have been Mr. Darcy.
Soon, the carriage pulled into Gracechurch Street and Mrs. Gardiner and Jane stepped outside to meet them. Introductions were made amidst long embraces and cheerful greetings. Mrs. Gardiner invited the gentlemen inside for tea, but they declined.
Darcy would return Monday morning to escort Charlotte and Maria to Longbourn.
He would also speak to Mr. Bennet when he arrived.
Elizabeth had promised to have a letter ready for her father for him to deliver.
He did not want to admit it, but he was nervous.
He had never asked a man permission to court his daughter before.
The very nature of the task meant a man would usually only do such a thing once in his life; there would be no improving with practice.
Darcy shook off his anxiety and listened to his cousin ribbing him until they reached Mayfair, then he took to his study with a brandy, claiming a need to manage his correspondence. In truth, he stared at the empty fireplace and thought of Elizabeth.
“Lizzy! You have been very sly!” cried Jane. “Why did you not tell me Mr. Darcy was your beau?”
“She was in denial of it for some time herself,” Charlotte quipped. Elizabeth threw her a glare. Charlotte ignored it and happily popped a piece of fruit into her mouth.
Mrs. Gardiner had set out a light luncheon for them and the ladies sat around a small table on the stone terrace behind the house.
The garden was not large, but Mrs. Gardiner had a green thumb and she and her gardener had worked tirelessly to make it a beautiful oasis.
Maria was playing a game of hide and seek with the Gardiner children at the back of the garden, their laughter and shrieks of joy a pleasant backdrop to the ladies’ conversation.
“Has he spoken to you of his intentions?” asked Mrs. Gardiner.
Elizabeth flushed but knew she could not avoid answering. “Yes. He has asked to court me.”
Jane gasped and Mrs. Gardiner sat forward in her chair. “Has he truly? Oh, Lizzy!”
“You accepted his offer?” Jane asked, her brow crinkled in worry.
Elizabeth took her hand in hers. “Yes, I have. But not without sufficient questioning.” She smiled, then seeing her sister was not assuaged, added, “There is much we did not know about Mr. Darcy, and much we were misinformed of.”
She and Charlotte told them the story of Mr. Wickham and his great perfidy, and how Colonel Fitzwilliam opened Elizabeth’s eyes to her gullibility.
“I have never felt so stupid in my life,” lamented Elizabeth.
Jane placed a hand on her sister’s knee. “Do not take it all upon yourself. All of Meryton believed him.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “That should have been a reason to doubt him, not trust him. Who shares such things with an entire town? With strangers!”
“I believe you have learned a valuable lesson, girls. A handsome face does not equate to a handsome nature,” said Mrs. Gardiner sagely.
“That is true. Eliza and I have spoken of this at length lately.” Charlotte smiled at her friend over her cup and Elizabeth resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at her.
“I will admit to being relieved to hear you are no longer enamored of Mr. Wickham, for I have received news of him,” said Mrs. Gardiner.
“Oh? Why have you not said?” asked Jane. She had not thought Mr. Wickham could be so very bad and was feeling more than a little unsettled by the information she had heard.
“I have an old friend in Lambton, Mrs. Simpkins. After our last visit to Longbourn, I sent her a letter asking about Mr. Wickham’s claims. I confess I was shocked by her information.
Apparently, he has left debts all over Derbyshire and Mr. Darcy has discharged them.
He is also considered something of a scoundrel.
She personally knows of two girls who have been left increasing by him, with no support whatsoever. ”
Jane gasped and brought her hand to her mouth. “No!”
“Those poor girls,” said Charlotte, shaking her head. “What became of them?”
“What usually becomes of them,” said Elizabeth darkly.
“Actually, I was quite surprised on that count, for I assumed the same thing. Mrs. Simpkins said that Mr. Darcy provided the first girl—one of his tenants’ daughters—with a dowry and another tenant’s son married her.
The young lad had been in love with her for years it seems, and she had been sweet on him until Mr. Wickham began whispering in her ear. ”
“That makes it all so much worse,” said Elizabeth. “Mr. Wickham deliberately ruined her happiness for momentary pleasure.” She shook her head, again chastising herself for how stupidly she had behaved toward that scoundrel.
“And the other girl?” asked Jane, afraid of the answer.
“The other girl lost her babe in childbirth. She then trained with Pemberley’s cook and now has a position in the kitchen at a neighboring estate.”
Elizabeth sank back into her chair. Mr. Darcy was so good! So very kind and gentlemanly and generous. How could she ever have thought him cold and bad tempered? Cold men did not put themselves out to help the victims of their former friends.
“That paints Mr. Darcy in a very generous light,” said Charlotte.
“It certainly does. So I am pleased you accepted his offer of courtship, Lizzy. Such a man would make a wonderful husband.”
Elizabeth smiled nervously. He would be a wonderful husband, she knew that.
But there was still some place inside her, some unexplainable, rebellious place that chafed at the idea of being a wife.
Whether it was being a wife in general or Mr. Darcy’s in particular that unsettled her, she could not say.
She had fought changing her opinion of him for so long, she wondered if she was still fighting her pride about changing her mind.
Accepting Mr. Darcy meant admitting she had been horribly, blindly wrong about everything.
Mr. Wickham, Darcy’s nature, her own dislike of him.
Well, she thought, I did truly dislike him.
But I also did not know him, so how true could the dislike be?
She could go on in such a way interminably, so she put a stop to her wayward thoughts and focused on the conversation around her.