Chapter 41 Miss Ashbrook
Sunday morning found all the Pemberley guests traveling in three carriages to church.
Darcy handed Elizabeth down and led her inside, guiding her up the nave to the very front, where he assisted her into the Darcy pew.
Bingley followed with Jane, then the Hursts.
Mr. Lewis escorted Isabella and Mary. Colonel Fitzwilliam entered last with Georgiana on his arm and closed the small door behind them.
All the members of the congregation watched as the large party entered and seated themselves, including Christiana Ashbrook.
The box’s high walls offered a measure of privacy, yet not enough to shield them entirely.
Both Darcy and Richard happened to glance toward the opposite aisle at the exact moment, and there, seated in radiant splendor, was Miss Christiana Ashbrook staring at them.
Their gazes met hers, and then each man turned sharply away.
Elizabeth, unaware of the exchange, listened attentively to the service. The rector’s sermon was engaging, and all passed quietly enough until the final hymn concluded and the congregation began to disperse.
At the door, the rector stood to bid farewell to each parishioner. As he bowed over Elizabeth’s hand, she heard behind her a sudden shriek of delight.
“Fitzwilliam! Oh, how good it is to see you again, it has been an age, my dear friend!”
Elizabeth turned, astonished, just in time to see a tall, elegant woman throw herself against her husband’s neck. “You look very well,” Miss Ashbrook declared, her voice carrying across the entire vestibule. “And how strong and manly you have become! You are no longer the slender boy I once knew.”
A hush fell over the crowd. Parishioners stared, aghast, as the woman kept her hand upon Darcy’s arm with a freedom no wife could have sanctioned.
Darcy froze, his countenance composed but pale. Richard, quick as ever, stepped forward.
“Christiana!” he cried, embracing her as heartily as she had embraced his cousin. “You look remarkably well, my dear! I heard you had returned to the neighborhood. What a pleasure it will be to renew our acquaintance!”
She blinked, startled by his exuberance.
Richard turned immediately to Mr. Lewis. “And here is James, our other playfellow. Come, Lewis, you must greet our childhood friend. It has been five years or longer.”
Lewis hesitated. He looked first at Richard, then at Darcy, both of whom gave him urgent, pleading glances.
At last, he stepped forward, caught Miss Ashbrook by the shoulders, and declared in a loud, hearty tone, “Christiana, how good it is to see you again after all these years! I had thought you meant to remain in Scotland with your relations.”
Before she could recover from this unexpected warmth, Richard seized Elizabeth gently by the elbow.
“Christiana, allow me to present Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy,” he said with an exaggerated air of delight. “She has been most eager to make your acquaintance.”
Elizabeth’s eyes flashed a warning at him, but Richard merely winked. At last, understanding his intent, she stood on tiptoe and flung her arms lightly about Miss Ashbrook’s shoulders.
“Miss Ashbrook! I have heard so much of you,” she said sweetly, “and have been in quite a flutter hoping we might meet at last.”
Christiana, visibly taken aback by so much demonstrative attention, managed a stiff smile.
Richard cleared his throat. “And now, Christiana, allow me to introduce the rest of our party, Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, Mr. Bingley, Miss Bennet, and Miss Mary Bennet, both sisters of Mrs. Darcy.”
Darcy, regaining his composure, bowed curtly. “Miss Ashbrook, you will excuse us. Our party is large, and we must not delay our return to Pemberley. Good day to you.”
She curtsied, speechless.
Darcy took Elizabeth’s hand firmly and tucked it within his arm. “Come, my dear. We must not keep our guests waiting for their meal.”
He led her to the carriage, where Richard joined them with Georgiana in tow.
Miss Ashbrook watched the large party cross the church courtyard and make their way to the waiting carriages.
Her eyes narrowed. He had married. A young thing, what could she be, seventeen, eighteen at most?
How could this be? He had been utterly besotted with her once.
She remembered the look on his face when he had found them; no man who had loved so deeply could have given his heart to another.
She had counted on that, on him. It had been part of her original plan, formed those many years ago, to let the scandal fade, then return, ensnare him anew, and restore her respectability as his wife.
But matters had not unfolded as she intended, and now she was reduced to schemes and subterfuge.
So, he had married another. Her lips tightened as the Darcy carriage rolled away, and she caught sight of him looking down at his wife, speaking to her with quiet intensity.
As the coach pulled away, Richard began to laugh.
“Darcy, that was not so bad! I daresay Christiana will think twice before throwing herself at a gentleman in full view of the rector again. She has ever been heedless of propriety.”
Darcy groaned. “By George, I cannot believe she embraced me in church, before the entire parish! The woman has no sense of decorum.”
“You must pay her a call,” Richard said lightly, “to welcome her back into the neighborhood.”
Darcy gave him a dark look. “Must I? I think not. Her past conduct has rendered her unfit for good society. I cannot comprehend why her father has permitted her return. He should have left her with her relations in Edinburgh.”
Richard shrugged. “It does not appear that the rector knows anything of her fall.”
“I am certain he does not,” Darcy replied grimly. “But he soon will, if she continues such exhibitions.”
He turned to his wife. “Elizabeth, I am sorry you were obliged to witness such an impropriety and to feign warmth you did not feel.”
Elizabeth’s cheeks flamed scarlet. Richard, seeing her expression, smothered a laugh and turned toward the window.
Darcy regarded her carefully. She was angry as a wasp. “My dear, I did warn you what Christiana could be.”
Elizabeth huffed. “You did not warn me she would fling herself upon your neck like a tavern wench in the middle of church services! It was indecent. How would she like it if I greeted her husband in such a manner?”
Darcy bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. “Very true, my darling. I believe she would not like it in the least.”
“Do not mock me, sir,” she snapped, though her lips trembled with a sudden need to giggle. “I must admit, it seems rather comical now that I see you both laughing. I suppose I need not consider it so grievous as I have done.”
He reached for her hand and pressed it gently. “Thank you, Elizabeth, for doing what was needful. You have helped to spare us a new round of gossip, at least for the moment.”
She met his gaze, still indignant. “Fitzwilliam, how shall we prevent a repetition of this, of this wanton behavior?”
Darcy sighed. “I must speak with her father. I shall inform him, firmly but civilly, that his daughter’s past conduct renders her unwelcome in this neighborhood. It would be best if he returned her to her relations in Scotland.”
Elizabeth’s brow furrowed. “You will not go there yourself, will you? I cannot bear the thought of her pressing her body or her attentions upon you again.”
Richard interjected. “No need for that. Darcy can send a note and invite her father here instead. We will both speak with him. Between the three of us, and perhaps Lewis too, the matter can be managed.”
Elizabeth exhaled slowly. “Do you think the rumors will spread again?” She looked at him, her brow furrowed with worry. “Sir, will she tarnish your name?”
Darcy shook his head. “No, my love. Everyone knows the truth of her past and with whom her indiscretion lay. My name will remain safe, provided we do not spend time together. Such an association would be interpreted in the worst possible manner.”
Elizabeth relaxed slightly. “Very well. But promise me, Fitzwilliam, you will not see her again.”
He met her eyes gravely. “You have my word, Elizabeth. I shall not visit her father’s estate. Tomorrow I will send the letter of invitation. He will come, we will speak, and with luck, she will soon return to her relations before she disgraces herself again.”
Elizabeth leaned back against the squabs, still uneasy. “God grant it so,” she murmured.
“Lizzy, will you walk out with me to the rose garden?” It was early the following morning, and Jane’s expression was troubled.
Elizabeth looked up with raised brows. “Of course. Let me fetch my bonnet.”
The two women walked out into the fine weather. Elizabeth turned to her sister. “What is it, Jane?”
“Charles is all that is amiable, but I worry about his resolve.”
Elizabeth regarded her sister with concern.
“I have been watching the two of you. You utterly transfix him, and you have seemed perfectly contented. The two of you are forever to be found sitting together or walking in the garden, talking with such earnestness. I have had no cause for concern over your courtship or the steady growth of your affection. What has made you question his resolve now, after so many weeks of harmony and happiness?”
“Caroline wrote to Charles. She wishes to visit us this winter after we have moved back to London. He agreed to let her.”
“Will her husband also be making a visit?”
“No. That is why she wishes to come. Her husband must remain behind to supervise construction. Evidently, it is quite an undertaking. Caroline does not wish to be buried in the countryside during the London season.”
Elizabeth placed an arm around Jane’s waist. “Has he already granted her permission, or is there still time to reconsider?”
The sisters were deep in conversation when Elizabeth heard the thud of hooves and looked up.
Her husband was riding in on Rowan, the magnificent black stallion he had purchased from a Scottish breeder.
She turned to see who accompanied him and beheld the lovely Miss Ashbrook, splendid in her forest-green riding habit, a smart hat tipped to one side, and a small whip in her hand.
She brought her chestnut mare to an abrupt halt beside Rowan, and with laughing eyes looked up at Mr. Darcy. “My dear friend, that was a lovely gallop. We must do it again soon.” She reached over and placed a hand upon his arm.
Elizabeth felt herself bristle. When she rose, Darcy glanced toward the garden and smiled. She saw him relax, and the thought flickered that perhaps he had not enjoyed his romp with his old flame. Nevertheless, the sight pierced her to the heart. He had promised never to be in that woman’s company.
She walked toward the pair but stopped a safe distance from the horses.
Darcy dismounted, threw his reins to the ground, and walked toward her.
Elizabeth saw Miss Ashbrook’s sugary smile shift into a look of malice.
That woman had designs upon her husband, wicked designs.
Did she hope to become his mistress? Something inside her shifted.
She would never have him, except over her dead body.
“Fitzwilliam, you are returned early from your ride,” Elizabeth said. She looked down at the little watch pinned to her gown. “Why, you have been out only half an hour, sir.” Her eyes turned to Miss Ashbrook. “But perhaps you found the company uninspiring.”
Then she rose on tiptoe, slipped her arms around his neck, and kissed Mr. Darcy on the mouth. She had not expected his response. He returned the kiss, gently at first, then more firmly as his arms encircled her waist and drew her close.
She pulled back, breathless. “Excuse me, sir. I forgot myself. A gentlewoman should never permit such attentions in public and before company. What would my papa say to such goings-on?” She looked past his shoulder at the intruder.
“Why, Miss Ashbrook, I forgot myself, and I beg your pardon. It is much too early for morning callers, madam. It is only half past eight. You will excuse us, I trust?”
She took Darcy’s arm and wove her own firmly through it. “Sir, my sister and I have need of your counsel. Will you join us in the garden?”
Darcy walked as one led by an invisible cord, docile and obedient. Rowan followed behind, reins dragging upon the ground as he nipped at the grass.
Miss Ashbrook remained seated upon her horse.
Never had she been so dismissed, and by this young, unremarkable woman.
She had inquired about Elizabeth Bennet Darcy and learned that her father owned a small estate entailed to a distant cousin, and that she had never been to finishing school, nor traveled, nor done anything of note.
Yet she had captured Fitzwilliam Darcy, and now he could never belong to her as he once had.
She had held his affections cheaply in those days, for there had been many suitors to choose from.
He had been reticent and dull, though her father had favored the match.
She would have lived close to her dear Papa.
But that was all gone now, and by the look of things, he was entirely under this woman’s influence.
He had gone with her as if led by the nose.
Never had she imagined that any other woman could hold such power over him.
She turned her gaze upon him and studied him from the thick dark hair that curled at his collar, down over his broad shoulders, his narrow waist, and strong, well-formed thighs to the polished boots that completed his figure.
He was beautiful to behold. He had become a man, and his very presence stirred her with longing.
His jaw was finely sculpted, his side whiskers neatly trimmed, enhancing the noble lines of his cheekbones.
What a man, more like a Greek god than mortal flesh.
The realization of her loss struck her keenly, and grief welled up within her for what might have been.
At last, she turned her mount and rode away, defeated.