Chapter 4
Keeping her normal schedule of morning exercise, Elizabeth left the parsonage not long after first light on Saturday morning. She followed the path she always did, crossing Rosings Park’s drive and then entering the grove closest to the parsonage.
She had not walked more than one hundred yards in the grove when she was met with a most unwelcome sight.
Mr Darcy was standing just ahead of her, but unfortunately, he was looking at her so the option to slip away before he saw her was no longer hers.
Unless he gave her reason to be, she would not be openly rude to the man, no matter how hateful and dishonourable he was.
Until that point she had felt as happy to be in nature as she ever did.
Seeing that man in her way took away some of nature’s lustre for her.
Did he not understand her when she had let him know where she walked so he may avoid her?
“Good morning, Miss Bennet,” Darcy managed as he bowed. There were times he had difficulty expressing himself, but never more than when in Miss Elizabeth’s company.
“It is, Sir. If you will excuse me, I will be on my way,” Elizabeth said after a curtsy.
She knew that her return greeting was perfunctory at best, but it was far more than she desired to say to the infuriating man.
Why was he just standing there staring at her to find fault?
“Do I have dirt on my face?” Elizabeth asked impertinently.
Darcy was impressed that she had not assumed he wanted to walk with her. But he could not fathom why she asked about a blemish on her face. He had to force himself to speak. “Miss Bennet, may I accompany you on your walk?” he requested.
It was all Elizabeth could do to stop her mouth falling open in shock.
She could not grasp why the insufferable man would want to walk with one he had judged not handsome enough to tempt him to dance when they first saw one another.
Why was Mr Darcy punishing her with his company when he disliked her as much as she did him?
She wanted to refuse him, but Elizabeth’s good manners asserted themselves.
“You may, sir,” she responded curtly. It was an even greater shock when he offered her his arm.
She placed her hand on his forearm as lightly as was possible.
For a while, they walked in silence towards the clearing where the paths converged.
Remembering the dance at Netherfield Park and that she had decided to initiate conversation rather than allow the man to be taciturn as he usually was, Elizabeth decided that she would force some talk between them. Perhaps that would make him go away.
“Do you think Mr Bingley will return to Netherfield Park?” Elizabeth enquired.
He had not been prepared for a question about Bingley.
Knowing that he had been less than truthful with his friend made Darcy’s conscience prick him.
‘It is just because her sister was not able to secure Bingley and his five thousand per annum,’ Darcy told himself silently ignoring the voice in his head screaming that he knew that was a lie.
Neither of the older Bennet sisters had ever shown themselves to be mercenary.
He realised that his walking partner was waiting for a reply.
“I have no knowledge that Mr Bingley will return.”
“Then he had better terminate his lease so the neighbourhood will not be left in a state of uncertainty. I suppose the way his sisters left the estate is to be understood as they were not raised on an estate and did not know how to properly close a house.”
He did not like Miss Bingley, or even Mrs Hurst, but Darcy bristled at the implied criticism to his friend and by extension himself. “To what do you refer?”
Elizabeth was pleased that she had already discomposed the arrogant man.
She was sure he would take his leave soon.
“Just this, Mr Darcy. Mr Bingley’s sisters left the estate without a word to the Nichols or any of the servants.
They did not order the house closed in an orderly fashion, pay off the servants, or give the non-permanent servants characters to find work.
Had they been gently raised, the proper way to take their leave would have been known to them. ”
Nothing Miss Elizabeth was saying was wrong.
However, Darcy knew that Bingley had left household money to cover the wages for the next two quarters of all those employed at Netherfield Park.
Did Miss Bingley not know this, or did she pilfer the funds to buy herself more unneeded furbelows?
In his mind, Darcy knew that the latter was more than likely the case.
“I was not aware that Miss Bingley left in that manner.”
“But Mr Darcy, were you not with them? That is what Miss Bingley claimed in her letter to my older sister.” Elizabeth very much wanted to reveal the rest of the contents of that epistle; however, this was not the time nor the place.
“Miss Bingley erred, I left some hours before she and the Hursts vacated the estate. I understood she intended to close the house in an orderly fashion.”
“As she did not and left so many in the lurch, my sister Jane and I convinced our father to cover the costs for the servants. We could ill afford it, but we could not allow them to suffer thanks to Miss Bingley’s missteps.”
Darcy was horrified. This was not acceptable.
He would pay the amount the Bennets laid out and claim it was from Bingley.
It seemed disguise was not as abhorrent to him as he had once claimed.
“If you inform me how much your father expended for those employed at Netherfield Park, I will ensure that Bingley sends him the amount in full.”
That was not what Elizabeth expected. But then she supposed his improper pride would not allow anything else.
She mentioned the amount. Mr Darcy repeated it would be sent to her father as soon as he made Mr Bingley aware.
As the insufferable man had not left her, Elizabeth decided to continue.
“Did you see my older sister in London?”
“I have not been in her company.” That was not a lie. He had seen Miss Bennet departing Hurst House, but he had not spoken with her.
“My older sister has learnt a very hard lesson. She has discovered that they who claim a friendship are not always sincere, and can be, in fact, quite the opposite. I suppose in some families their word of honour does not mean as much as it does in mine.” Elizabeth wondered if Mr Darcy understood that she was not only referring to the supercilious Bingley sisters.
“I must return to Rosings Park,” Darcy said as he bowed. He had wanted to have a pleasant time walking with Miss Elizabeth, not speak of Bingley. He was worried he would say something impolitic as the guilt over what he had done gnawed at him from within.
‘At long last, he is gone,’ Elizabeth rejoiced triumphantly. She had not been rude—not exactly—so in her mind her behaviour had been proper. She walked on trying to excise thoughts of Mr Darcy from her mind.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
One of the things Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam prided himself on was his ability to read a battlefield.
He could see the hidden pitfalls, places rife for an ambush, and where it would be good to hide men so the enemy was not aware of the size of the force facing it.
He now employed those self-same skills to discover what his aunt was hiding from them.
He was relatively certain that it had to do with Anne’s health. Hence, knowing that his aunt did not bestir herself from her chambers before midday, Richard made his way to the part of the family wing where Anne’s suite was located. As he approached, a footman moved into the hall to bar his way.
“I be sorry, Colonel, but Mistress say no one visit Miss Anne wifout ‘er say so,” the man said apologetically.
“Your name is Windon, is it not?” Fitzwilliam verified.
He saw the footman confirm it with a nod of his head.
“Windon, my father is the executor of the late Sir Lewis’s Last Will and Testament.
If it is as I suspect, my aunt is trying to defraud the rightful heir after Miss de Bourgh.
You do not want to swing for fraud, do you? ”
A horrified Windon shook his head emphatically and stood aside.
Fitzwilliam nodded his approval to the man and walked to the door leading to his cousin’s chambers.
He knocked once, and the door was opened tentatively by Mrs Jenkinson, his cousin’s companion.
At least that was how she had begun her employment, but over the years she had become more of a nurse than a companion.
“Lady Catherine forbade…” Mrs Jenkinson began to say. She closed her mouth; she could recognise the determination in Colonel Fitzwilliam’s look. She knew that the mistress’s orders were wrong, so she stood aside and allowed Miss Anne’s cousin to enter the suite.
On entering his cousin’s rooms, the last thing on his mind was the impropriety of a single man entering the bedchamber of a woman who was not his wife.
The room was only lit by the roaring fire in the grate which produced an oppressive heat.
All the curtains were drawn against the light.
Fitzwilliam’s need to see what was going on in the chamber caused him to open the curtains on both sets of windows.
What he saw shocked him. Anne had never been robust since her bout with scarlet fever as a child, but she had not been the emaciated creature he saw in the bed, one who, if he was right, could barely lift her head. “Has my aunt been starving her daughter?” he demanded.