Chapter Nineteen #2
“Please accept my apology for the insult I issued you when I first arrived in Hertfordshire. I should never have said that you aren’t handsome,” Mr. Darcy said, looking down at her. “Or that you are not worthy of dancing with me. Neither point is true.”
The words should never have been spoken? Did he mean, then, to convey that his words had lacked truth or were impolite? Warmth spread through her, but Elizabeth wouldn’t permit it to culminate in a blush. “Now I am attractive? This conversation is rife with compliments.”
“And yet holds nowhere near as many as you deserve.”
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. Sometimes, like now, the way Mr. Darcy looked at her made her feel giddy.
As if she floated. Or gave her that feeling she got when she swung dangerously high on a swing and plunged back downward, uncertain until the last moment if she experienced joy or dread.
It all depended on if she kept swinging or ended up in a heap on the ground.
“You’re blocking my ducks,” Mary called.
“No, don’t move,” Miss Darcy cried. “I’m sketching you.”
Elizabeth smiled slightly. “We are given conflicting orders.”
“The ducks will move,” Mr. Darcy said quietly to Elizabeth. “That is, if you do not mind being sketched. Georgiana is quite good.”
“I’m certain she is. I have the evidence of both Mary and Miss de Bourgh looking to her for advice, and reports that your sister holds every accomplishment worthy of a paragon of womanhood.”
Instead of smiling at that, as Elizabeth had hoped, Mr. Darcy frowned. “Which brings me to a somewhat delicate matter I’d like to broach.”
“I’m agog,” Elizabeth said lightly, but meant her words. What could Mr. Darcy possibly wish to discuss with her by the duck pond, in full view of the world, that could be considered delicate?
“I’ve had Miss Bingley, Mr. Wickham and Mrs. Clegg followed.”
Elizabeth stared at him.
“Close your mouth, Lizzy,” Mary called. “I’m trying to draw you now, too.”
“Don’t say shocking things to Miss Bennet, Darcy,” Miss de Bourgh added.
On the hillside above them, Miss Darcy giggled.
Elizabeth closed her mouth, then opened it to ask, “Followed?”
Mr. Darcy nodded. “I realize you have a father and uncles, and Bingley is now your brother, but he is distracted by his recent marriage. As his friend, I thought it reasonable to do what it wouldn’t occur to him to do.”
“But why those three people?” Elizabeth would only have thought to check into Mrs. Clegg.
“Miss Bingley, to ensure the Hursts kept their word about confining her. Wickham, because I do not trust his motives for becoming engaged to your sister. Mrs. Clegg, well,” Mr. Darcy’s eyes darkened, “to ensure she is not a threat to you.”
“Oh.” Elizabeth swallowed. “I will admit, it’s…upsetting, knowing she is out there and, presumably, still angry with me. She showed that if I can inherit because of someone’s mistaken belief, I can also be attacked because of a mistaken belief.”
“And the rock in that sack made it a weapon, which means her attack was planned,” Mr. Darcy said, voice harsh with anger.
Elizabeth shook her head. “I’ve given that considerable thought.” Sometimes, she’d found it difficult to think of anything else. “I agree that Mrs. Clegg planned to use the rock as a weapon, but not that she planned for it to be used against me.”
“Why do you say that?”
“She was a woman traveling alone. She probably carried money on her person, but she must have been concerned about her safety. The bag was partly a distraction, something for robbers to steal which wouldn’t inconvenience her greatly. Also, the rock was clean.”
“The rock was with her food.”
“Yes, but she hadn’t just picked it up, so she already had the rock as a plan for defense. But if she’d planned to attack me, she wouldn’t have had her lunch in with the rock.”
Much of the anger left his face as he considered her words. “That makes sense.”
Elizabeth drew in a breath, unsure she wanted to know, but unable not to ask, “And what did you find?”
“We found where she was living, but she isn’t there anymore. The woman from whom she’d rented said Mrs. Clegg was hired as a lady’s companion, but that she’d no idea by whom and no forwarding address was left. I’m afraid that’s all I’ve learned.”
Elizabeth grimaced, recalling the string of invectives Mrs. Clegg had used, some of which weren’t even familiar. “I cannot picture her as a lady’s companion.”
“Nor I, after the scene she made and her attack on you, but from the reports I received, she can pass for a gentleman’s daughter and is a widow.”
Watching her breath plume before her, Elizabeth said, “Well, hopefully she is settled and happy. Productive, satisfying occupation is quite likely the best solution for her anger.”
“Hopeful,” Mr. Darcy said without much conviction.
Not wanting to dwell on where her attacker might be, or on Mrs. Clegg’s mental state, Elizabeth said, “If you’ve had Mr. Wickham followed, you must know that he’s left Hertfordshire.”
“Yes, I do. Your sisters wrote you?”
Elizabeth nodded. “He told Lydia he’s seeking his fortune so they can marry. She writes him weekly. Mr. Carter also left, so he and Kitty are corresponding.”
“Mr. Carter?” Mr. Darcy asked, putting emphasis on the honorific.
“He resigned his commission and returned to Somerset, where he owns property. He’s getting his home ready for Kitty.
Mr. Gardiner arranged for someone to check on the property for my father.
” Elizabeth briefly frowned at that, because she knew that the reason to check on Kitty’s betrothed was not because her father didn’t trust Mr. Carter, but to warn Mr. Wickham that he couldn’t pretend.
It all seemed convoluted, but once Mr. Gardiner’s man confirmed the suitability of Mr. Carter’s home, which everyone knew he would, their father would allow the banns to be read for Kitty and Mr. Carter.
Kitty’s letter had expressed annoyance about the need for someone to go see Mr. Carter’s property, though Elizabeth suspected the inspection wouldn’t take long and that Kitty’s banns would first be read inside of a week.
Elizabeth hoped, and suspected, that Mr. Carter understood the situation.
But Mr. Darcy did not, and stood frowning slightly, so she explained it to him.
When she finished, Mr. Darcy said, “I like your father. He’s found a way to outmaneuver Mr. Wickham.
I didn’t realize it until a few years ago, but Mr. Wickham likes being the victim.
He always has people feeling sorrow on his behalf.
Now your father has arranged it so that he is being treated exactly like someone else and it is a reasonable thing to do.
Any complaints would have to be from both of them. ”
“And Mr. Carter doesn’t mind.”
“How do you know?” Mr. Darcy asked.
Elizabeth smiled, recalling the enthusiasm in Kitty’s letters.
“He writes Kitty the most boring descriptions of every moment of his day, all the details of how he’s improving their home, and she absolutely cherishes them.
It’s all she, in turn, can write me about.
Generally, her letters are terribly boring, but she did tell me that he wrote that he would offer the man Mr. Gardiner sent a room in his house and that he highly approves of Papa looking after Kitty. ”
“I’m happy for her. It sounds like she’s marrying a good man.”
“You do not sound happy.”
“Because I’m weighed down by considering whether or not to ask you to seek Wickham’s address from Miss Lydia.” Mr. Darcy met Elizabeth’s gaze. “Would that be a betrayal?”
To Elizabeth’s right, a flurry of quacks erupted as the children tossed the last of their bread into the water. Elizabeth watched several ducks lunge for the same piece. One spread its wings and flapped. Two others squawked loudly in return. They reminded Elizabeth of her sisters squabbling.
She turned back to Mr. Darcy. “I can ask, but I will tell her why I want to know. You cannot locate him, either? That seems odd.”
“It becomes odder. The last anyone saw of him, he called on Miss Bingley.”
“Mr. Wickham called on Miss Bingley?” Elizabeth definitely found that odder.
“But he must know she’s been cut from society.
Even if he doesn’t read every page of every letter Lydia writes, she’s certain to have gone on about Miss Bingley’s public shaming before the church at some length. Was Miss Bingley permitted to see him?”
“She was not.”
That reassured Elizabeth somewhat. “So, whatever he wanted, he didn’t get.”
Mr. Darcy looked down at the snow.
“Fitz, raise your chin,” Miss Darcy called.
“What is it?” Elizabeth asked as he looked back up.
“Miss Bingley wasn’t permitted to receive his call because the Hursts kept true to their word.”
“Which is good.”
“But,” Mr. Darcy said with a grimace, “one of the servants admitted to taking coin to deliver a message from him, which Miss Bingley subsequently burned and refuses to speak of.”
“Oh dear.” Elizabeth began to feel a touch dizzy again, this time with the strong expectation of ending up a heap on the ground.
“Miss Bingley recently reached her majority,” Mr. Darcy continued. “By the terms of her father’s will, she was given the right to her income. From what I gather, she appeared so chastened, she didn’t attempt to withdraw any of the funds.”
“But you believe Mr. Wickham contacted her in an attempt to secure money?”
“I do,” Mr. Darcy replied. “But I doubt he succeeded. Regardless, I will continue my investigations. On Bingley’s behalf.”
Much as she wished to shrug off the strangeness of Mr. Wickham contacting Miss Bingley and bask in Mr. Darcy’s protectiveness, worry gnawed at Elizabeth.
“I don’t understand why Mr. Wickham would believe he could secure funds from her.
Do you think he believes he could charm Miss Bingley into stooping to marry him?
With her dowry, she could do much better, even with her forgery in her past. Like as not, she will spend a quiet season or two and then pass her actions against me off as a prank gone wrong. ”
“I agree. She can still aspire much higher than Wickham.” Mr. Darcy studied Elizabeth’s face. “Would you truly permit her to pass her actions off as a misguided prank?”
Elizabeth nodded. “I would, but only for Jane. I know Miss Bingley had no way of knowing how Mrs. Clegg would react, especially not that she would attack me, but she didn’t care.
Miss Bingley hurt a stranger so she could hurt me, which makes her actions all the more reprehensible because the stranger was likely hurt more than I was. ”
“That’s a generous way of looking at it,” Mr. Darcy said.
Elizabeth shrugged, rubbing her hand, although the bruise had faded. “A bruised hand is little compared to thinking that a cousin you’ve never met would burn your mother’s likeness simply to keep it away from you.”
“Yes, Mrs. Clegg has suffered emotional harm at Miss Bingley’s hands, but I argue that you have as well, meaning you have been harmed both in spirit and body.”
Tears threatened at his compassionate tone, but Elizabeth mustered a smile, aware of three pairs of eyes looking down the hill, fixed on them. “Both heal with time.”
“I suspect they would heal faster if Mrs. Clegg knew you didn’t write that letter, which is unlikely to happen if you don’t know where she is.
Elizabeth nodded. “I agree.”
“I won’t give up looking for her,” Mr. Darcy said. “And soon you will head to Rosings. Few places are safer. Being a widow with a daughter and a great fortune, Lady Catherine keeps a veritable army on hand.”
“She does?” That was certainly reassuring.
Mr. Darcy nodded. “For all she may be abrasive, my aunt seems to like you and Miss Mary. She will not let any ill befall you. So long as you reside in Rosings, you will be perfectly safe.”
“And will we see you there?” Elizabeth couldn’t help but ask. Somehow, Mr. Darcy’s strong, sure presence made her feel safer than a hundred footmen could.
Mr. Darcy’s answering smile lacked any sign of strain. “You will. I’ve been invited, along with Richard.”
“Richard is Colonel Fitzwilliam?”
“He is. You will like him.” Mr. Darcy added a touch glumly, “Everyone does.”
It was on her tongue to reassure him that she couldn’t possibly like his cousin more than she liked him, but Elizabeth realized that would be very forward and instead said, “Then I look forward to meeting him.”
“Lizzy, Mr. Darcy, come see Miss Darcy’s sketch,” Mary called from the top of the hill.
“It’s amazing,” Miss de Bourgh added.
Mr. Darcy offered his arm. Elizabeth took it and walked back up the hill with him. They all clustered around Miss Darcy, who held out her sketchbook. Pink stained her cheeks, but her chin was high, and she smiled.
“It’s exquisite,” Elizabeth said, stunned.
Miss Darcy had perfectly captured the two, standing against the backdrop of the duck pond.
She hadn’t rendered the woman and her children, or the walking couple, but she had sketched in several waterfowl.
What had Elizabeth working not to blush, however, was the way Miss Darcy had rendered her and Mr. Darcy’s faces.
Even in profile, it was easy to read their mutual admiration.
“You two look perfect,” Miss de Bourgh said in a bland tone.
Mary cast her a quick look and giggled, and Elizabeth wondered what the three had spoken of while she and Mr. Darcy talked below.
“May I have it, Georgie?” Mr. Darcy asked quietly.
“Yes. I drew it for you, Fitz,” his sister replied with a smile.
Recalling those words and the drawing that evening while lying in bed, Elizabeth wondered if, and hoped, that the reason Mr. Darcy preferred her music to Mary’s was that he enjoyed watching her play.