14. Chapter 14 A Startling Confrontation
Saturday, 4 July
Mr. Baxter’s House, Bedford
Elizabeth
A fter dinner, I went to my room to ready myself for the concert. I feigned indecision with Mr. Baxter’s maid, Rachel, and compelled her to change my gown to the one I had intended to wear all along: a stylish dress of pale pink taffeta. Papa and Mr. Baxter accepted my apology for the delay with grace, and my manoeuvre ensured we arrived after most of the others in attendance had taken their seats.
Upon our entrance to the public building, Mr. Baxter called out to a couple walking ahead of us. After introducing the pair—Mr. Plowman, the local magistrate, and his wife—to my father and me, Mr. Baxter proceeded to congratulate the bald gentleman for his celebrated arrest of two highwaymen.
While the gregarious Mrs. Plowman pressed my father for details of our estate, the magistrate bade me walk with him to the host, so I complied. We obtained programmes for the evening’s performance, and he directed me to a painting on the wall depicting the Great Ouse, a substantial river in Bedford that spanned several counties.
This landscape paled in comparison to Mr. Miles’s work, but I refrained from voicing that thought. “It is lovely.”
“I have met an acquaintance of yours by the name of Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy.” His aside drew my gaze from the painting.
“Oh?” My voice cracked. How could this have come to pass? If Mr. Darcy knew I was in the area, he had to have observed me earlier today outside the inn. But why would he have mentioned me to Mr. Plowman?
“The gentleman is quite eager to speak with you.” His eyes narrowed. “You…um… do know him, do you not?”
“Yes, we are…he is a friend.”
“Well, he has an important message to impart, and he indicated his intention of coming here tonight.”
“Thank you, I appreciate the information.” I should have little choice but to speak to him. Perspiration cemented the smooth, silk cloth of my gown to my back. Well, I should be collected and treat him as I should any other friend.
The host advised us the performance would begin soon, so we proceeded into the concert room. With most of the seats already taken, the five of us settled in the back row. Minutes later, the orchestra began playing a familiar tune from Le nozze di Figaro .
I itched to query Mr. Plowman. Among other questions, I wanted to ask when he had met Mr. Darcy, how the topic of me had come up, and what had brought Mr. Darcy to Bedford. But I could not mention Mr. Darcy with my father present lest I provoke an argument.
From my vantage ground, I could peruse the audience at my leisure. According to the programme, the concert would last over an hour. I soon spotted Mr. Darcy, whose head rose above most in the room. When the tall lady seated to his right turned and spoke to him— the same lady from the inn —I shrank down in my seat. Each time she drew near him to make another comment, the pressure in my chest increased. Nevertheless, the pair absorbed me, and I did not spare a vestige of notice for the efforts of the musicians, however worthy they may have been.
At the concert’s conclusion, Mr. and Mrs. Plowman engaged Papa and Mr. Baxter in conversation.
With the intent of providing Mr. Darcy an opportunity to approach me in relative privacy, I touched my father’s arm. “I shall take a turn at the back of the room to read the notices.”
He gave me a nod.
I moved to the back wall and examined the placards and play-bills announcing past and forthcoming events. As the minutes ticked by, my earlier bit of courage abandoned me. Could I avoid this meeting entirely? Maybe if I remained here until Papa and Mr. Baxter wanted to depart, Mr. Darcy would not notice me. But a brisk set of footfalls caused me to huff out my breath.
“Miss Bennet, it is a pleasure to see you.”
At the familiar baritone— his voice—I closed my eyes and willed myself to remain calm. I turned towards him, donning what I hoped to be a show of composure. “Mr. Darcy, it is a surprise to find you here.” I focused upon him and swallowed. Why must he be so handsome? Why are you in Bedford, and who is that lady with you? But I should refrain from posing questions when the answers would be apt to overthrow me.
“This is neither the ideal time nor the place, but I need to speak with you.”
The urge to reach out and touch him almost overwhelmed me. Dear Lord , how should I endure this conversation? Maybe I ought to make an excuse and leave now.
“Will you meet me tomorrow morning? There is a woodland area across from—”
“How dare you?” Papa bolted at Mr. Darcy and pushed him, driving him into a backwards step. “You will stay away from her!” My father’s words, though low in volume, had a venomous sound. Had he gone mad? Why would he put his hands on Mr. Darcy like that?
Mr. Darcy raised his palms. “Mr. Bennet, I assure you—”
“Save your breath. Nothing you could say would make any difference to me.”
I stirred from my frozen state and found my voice. “Papa, I do not understand this. We were talking—nothing more. For goodness’ sake, he is a friend!” My sight flitted between them. Although Mr. Darcy had every right to be furious at my father’s assault, he displayed no trace of ire. Still, I gave him an apologetic look.
The tall lady who had been seated beside Mr. Darcy emerged from the dispersing crowd and strode towards him.
My father grabbed my wrist, his fingers digging into my flesh. “We are leaving, Lizzy— now .” Before I could protest, he tugged me away, forcing me from the room. When we neared the carriage. Mr. Baxter drew alongside us.
“What has happened, Bennet?”
“All is well now, but I must take Lizzy back to the house.”
“As you wish.”
I bided my time until we entered the carriage, and the two men sat opposite me. I glared at Papa, whose face had darkened to carmine. “What possessed you to attack Mr. Darcy for no reason?”
My father’s stony visage softened, and the fiery blaze in his eyes diminished. “Perhaps I did not handle the situation as I should have done. I did not intend to frighten or embarrass you.” My father glanced at Mr. Baxter, who raised his eyebrows. “I should not have lost my temper, my friend. I am sorry for my conduct.”
Mr. Baxter shifted towards Papa. “This sort of aggression is not like you, Bennet. What do you have against the gentleman?”
“Back in May, Lizzy accepted his marriage proposal. I believed she had made a mistake, so I insisted they wait before they entered an engagement. To my relief, they dissolved their agreement.” My father shot me a quick look. “Lizzy suffered from low spirits when she first arrived home, but she has improved. The last thing she needs is to be exposed to that man now. He is certain to make her miserable again.”
My lips squeezed flat. Must Papa disclose my personal history this way? Well, at least I trusted in Mr. Baxter’s discretion.
“Despite the man’s wealth, I knew Lizzy would not be happy with him.” Papa removed his spectacles and cleaned the glass with his handkerchief. “He may not be dishonourable, but he is a prominent member of the ton , and I observed him to be arrogant and imperious. Over time, he would have crushed her spirit, and I could not bear to see that happen.”
“You do not know Mr. Darcy as I do. He did not want to alter me. In fact, he appreciated my liveliness—I believe this trait is what first drew him to me.”
“As clever as you are, you can be naive at times.” My father replaced his spectacles. “He had every reason to appear compliant in order to obtain your agreement. But mark my words, had you become his wife, he would have exerted control over you—that is the way of powerful men.”
“I disagree. Nevertheless, the point is irrelevant, since we are not engaged, and I have reason to believe he is enamoured of another lady.”
Papa fidgeted in his seat. “Then why did he wish to speak to you?”
“You interrupted before he could say anything of substance. For us to encounter him here is an extraordinary coincidence, but it is natural for him to approach me. After all, he has a close association with my brother-in-law. It is inevitable we shall cross paths in the future.”
“Yes, well…” My father averted his gaze for a moment. “I expect he will seek you out tomorrow. For the remainder of your stay in Bedford, I want you to forego your morning walks.”
“No, Papa—this is ridiculous!”
“I do not want you speaking to him while you remain in a vulnerable state. He may employ a pretty speech to bend you to his will.”
“Would you attempt to make me a prisoner when I am mere weeks away from reaching my majority?” I angled towards him, my palms on my thighs. “You raised me to be a critical thinker, so please do not treat me like a simpleton. I am well capable of making my own decisions.”
“Lizzy…” He threw his hands up. “Oh, for pity’s sake! I suppose it is futile to attempt to sway you when your mind is made up.” He raised his index finger. “Allow me to make one final point. I am proud of what you have already accomplished with your novel, and it is obvious you love the activity. I encourage you to complete the manuscript and publish your work. But keep in mind—if you became Mr. Darcy’s wife, you would have to give up writing.”
A twinge spasmed deep within me. As much as I wanted to deny his statement, I could not. “Yes, I realise that.” But he did not want to marry me, so the issue did not bear consideration.
Sunday, 5 July
Bedford
Elizabeth
Rachel drew my attention to a narrow perpendicular path ahead of us. “If you’d like to walk towards the river, we should turn left there.”
“Yes, let us go that way.” I took in the beauty of the surrounding grassland intermixed with shrubs as we entered the wooded area. In all likelihood, Mr. Darcy had referred to this location before Papa interrupted him last night. In time, I glimpsed a horse and rider cantering in the distance through a break in the trees, and my forward motion ceased. I narrowed my eyes for a clearer picture of the male figure on the black steed— Mr. Darcy .
He must have come here to find me, and I had hoped to be ready to face him. But I could no more engage him with equanimity now than I could have done last night. Dash my wayward heart—I loved, wanted, needed him as much as ever. Every fibre of me cried out for him. Maybe after a few months I should find a way to control my emotions, but not now, not today. The news he wished to convey could be related through my correspondence with Miss Darcy. I clutched Rachel’s arm. “Come this way.” I steered her behind the sizeable trunk of a nearby oak.
“What is wrong, miss?”
I placed my forefinger before my lips to silence her. “A gentleman is riding through the woods.” I maintained a whisper. “And I do not want him to see me.”
“Is he a bad sort?” She replied in a like manner, her features compressed.
“No, not at all. The circumstances are…complicated.”
With a nod, Rachel fell silent.
A blond creature bounded around the tree and straight to me, burying his nose in my skirt. Hunter! Beside me, Rachel covered her mouth, muffling her gasp.
I knelt, burying my hands in the silky fur along the dog’s neck and back and indulged in an embrace of the cocker. I rested my temple against his pendulous ear. “It is good to see you, boy. I have missed you.” When I released him, he sneaked a wet kiss upon my nose. I gently pushed him backwards. “You must return to your master. Go on now, go.” I fluttered my hand, urging him away. Would he obey me? With a final long look, Hunter scampered off in the direction he had come. Thank goodness .
After several minutes elapsed, I relaxed. At the pace Mr. Darcy had been moving, he ought to have ridden far away from us by now.
I touched Rachel’s arm. “We have waited long enough.” I emerged from behind the tree—right into the path of Mr. Darcy! His quick motion, taking hold of my upper arms, prevented our collision. Two small knots formed between his brows.
While my respiration faltered, I focused upon the tingling areas of my arms held by him. Then his hands fell to his sides, depriving me of his touch and leaving a chill in their wake.
We could not continue staring at each other in silence. I gulped. “Good morning, Mr. Darcy. I am sorry for my father’s unpardonable conduct last night. He is regretful. If he was here, I am certain he would apologise to you himself.”
“It is of no moment.” His dark irises burned into me. “I thought I had glimpsed you here. Then Hunter ran this way and confirmed my suspicion. You…you hid from me.”
“No, I…um…I was just…” What could I say to appear less of a goose? I searched the area in vain for inspiration. Hunter—the traitor—stood nearby wagging his tail.
“Forgive me, I never meant to impose upon you. Good day, Miss Bennet.” With a solemn nod, he turned and strode away.
No, wait! But rather than call out, I stood immobile, staring helplessly after him. My throat seemed to close in on itself. I could not allow him to leave like this. He had sought me out to share his tidings, and I had concealed myself like a child. I could at least attempt to be happy for him. I raised my hand to Rachel. “Please wait here for me.”
“Yes, miss.”
I hastened after him, breaking into a run. When I came within ten yards of him, I slowed to a fast walk. “Mr. Darcy, please wait.”
He halted and spun round. “Yes?”
“Forgive me, I have no rational excuse for my behaviour.” I took a moment to catch my breath. “Please, tell me what you came to say.” He closed the distance between us, stopping within my reach. My fingers twitched—the desire to touch him almost overwhelmed me. I wrapped my shawl tighter around my shoulders, locking my arms in place to fortify my self-restraint.
“You may have no wish to hear this, but this time I shall leave no room for misunderstanding.” A soft glimmer stirred within his eyes. “I love you and want nothing more than to make you my wife.”
He loves me! A surge of energy shot through my body.
“However, if you believe we are better off apart, then I shall respect your decision. Either way, I wish with all my heart I could erase that terrible day at your uncle’s house—I came to you then under a misconception.”
But if he had desired me all along, how could he have let me go with no attempt to stop me or change my mind? “When you offered to release me, I believed you wanted to be free of our understanding. I could not conceive of any other reason for you to broach the topic.”
His head dipped before he met my gaze again. “At the time, it had not occurred to me that you might have doubted my intentions or the strength of my love for you.”
“I had received a letter from Charlotte, whom I had never confided in about us. She described your manner with Miss Finch and concluded you were in love with the lady. I believed my friend to be mistaken—until you offered to release me.”
“For the love of…” He brushed his knuckles along his mouth. “Mrs. Collins has an active imagination. Miss Finch had suffered a traumatic event that left her timid and mistrustful of men. Lady Matlock asked me to befriend her and demonstrate that not all men are dangerous, and I agreed.”
“Ah, that was…kind of you.” But what about the tall, brown-haired woman? “There is also the lady you escorted to the concert. I passed by the inn yesterday and observed you with her in the lobby. She…she kissed you.”
“You were there? I had no idea.” His jaw twitched. “Miss Nicholson’s impulsive act took me by surprise. Did you not see my response? I stepped back from her.”
He did? What a relief! “No, I turned away at once.”
“Miss Nicholson apologised for the impulsive deed moments later. She meant to express gratitude for my assistance to herself and her father.”
“What service had you provided?”
“The other day, I encountered them on the road after they had been robbed. I took them to Bedford and assisted in the arrest of the highwaymen.”
“Oh! One of the shopkeepers mentioned the bandits’ capture.” I worried my lower lip as the picture of a fiend holding a fire-arm flashed in my mind. “That must have been dangerous. You are well, are you not?”
“Yes, perfectly so. One of the highwaymen injured Mr. Nicholson and his driver during the robbery, but they are both recovering.”
“I see.”
“When Mr. Nicholson asked me to take his daughter to the concert as a favour to him, it would have been ill-mannered to refuse. Of course, my primary object in attending the event had been to see you.”
“But how did you know I was in Bedford?”
“I went to Longbourn on Thursday hoping to speak with you, but your father had instructed the butler to take me to the study. He refused to allow me to see you. He…um…made it clear I had caused you pain.”
He had sought me out at Longbourn on Thursday. If only I had known!
“After the bungle I had made of everything, I could not blame him for denying me, but I remained determined to try to earn your forgiveness. On Friday morning, I returned and searched the surrounding roads and footpaths for you. When I failed to find you, I spied Miss Catherine in the garden and spoke to her. She told me where you had gone. I left for Bedford that day.”
Fitzwilliam had travelled to Bedford for me. “Papa never breathed a word you had been there. As a matter of fact…his suggestion that we visit his friend Mr. Baxter came as a great surprise. He must have devised this trip as a way of keeping us apart.”
“Yes, I believe he did. Despite the temptation to blame your father, the responsibility for our separation is mine. I am so sorry, Elizabeth.” His voice grew hoarse. “Will you ever forgive me for putting us through this ordeal?”
I reached for his hand and interlocked our fingers. “I like to think of myself as a merciful sort. Nevertheless, I should appreciate an explanation—why did you offer to release me from our agreement and then accept my suggestion without a word of protest?”
His mouth drew flat. “At the time, I believed you to be in love with Miles.”
My breath rushed out. “What? How could you have thought that?”
“Circumstances converged to make the conclusion seem undeniable—in particular, Mrs. Annesley witnessed Miles in an amorous embrace with Miss Hawkins and mistook her for you.”
“Oh dear. But Mr. Miles—he must have told you the truth.”
“He left town before I arrived at the house, so I did not have an opportunity to speak to him until he returned.”
Images inundated me of Fitzwilliam from that dreadful conversation we had at my uncle’s home, and a chill rippled down my back. “So when we last spoke at Gracechurch Street, you believed I had betrayed you. You must have…hated me.”
“ No , I could never hate you or Miles. I did not believe either of you had sought to hurt me. After all, my aunt had contrived to put the two of you in company. Furthermore, I understood why you might have preferred him. He has all my positive attributes and none of my faults. And even though I surpass him in wealth and standing, neither of those advantages impress you.”
I swayed closer to him and licked my lips. “Mr. Miles has many admirable traits, but you are the only man for me.”
“Truly?” The trace of a smile softened his aspect, yet a subtle clump between his eyebrows persisted.
Did he crave my reassurance? His expression impelled me to assuage any lingering doubts he may have. “Yes. There is a quality unique to you, a particular magnetism that attracts me. Your presence is enough to sustain my senses, and I have never experienced this phenomenon with anyone else.”
His palm cradled my cheek, and his thumb traced my chin. “ You have entranced me since the early days of our acquaintance.”
“Another point became clear to me upon my return to Longbourn. I have often felt apart from everyone else—almost as though I did not fit in with my family or my friends. But when I am with you, I belong. I am…whole.”
“Elizabeth.” He pronounced my name as though uttering a sacred word. He placed delicate kisses on and around my lips and face. His ethereal touch seared my skin, inflaming me to my core and extremities. Then his arms enclosed me, pulling me to him. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too.” I clung to him, inhaling his beloved scent. A wondrous feeling of bliss warmed me from head to toe. How I had missed him!
“My dearest love, you will marry me, will you not?” His warm breath tantalised my earlobe and nape. “As soon as may be?”
“Yes, I will marry you, dearest Fitzwilliam.”
“My beautiful Elizabeth.” His arms tightened around me, and his fingers stroked wondrous circles along my back.
By and by, though, my father’s declaration from last night intruded into our glorious paradise and taunted me, presenting a mild yet assiduous blight upon my felicity. Would Fitzwilliam insist I give up writing? Of course, I should marry him either way, but I should miss the activity very much. In order to prepare myself, I should seek his opinion. I stirred to peek up at him. “Of late, I have been engaged in a particular enterprise, one I had never attempted before.”
He inched back and cocked his head. “What is this new project?”
“I have been composing a manuscript, a romantic novel.”
“Oh, I see.” In contrast to his words, he rubbed his temple as though perplexed. “I did not know you had an interest in the pastime.”
“Neither did I. But after what happened between us, I felt unsettled. I needed a way to express my emotions, and creating a novel proved to be the best method.”
He shook his head. “It pains me to have caused you such distress. I am glad you found the activity to be helpful. Perhaps you also sought the security a source of income could bring. Now, though, you may rest easy—you will be my wife, and I shall ensure you will never want for anything.”
My smile grew forced. His cursory dismissal of my craft as a temporary coping exercise ought not to have disappointed me; what other response should I have expected? No wealthy and prominent gentleman would choose to be married to an authoress. Still, I should correct his misinterpretation of the situation. “The possibility of earning money is irrelevant—I enjoy writing and editing. The creative process is singularly gratifying. However, I understand the realities of our society—it would not be…fitting for me to continue after we are married.”
He held my palm against his pulsating heart. “My love, if you wish to carry on writing, then you ought to continue.”
“You…are you certain?”
“By all means.”
His winsome smile weakened my knees. I had not dared to hope he would ever approve of this! Egad, I had so much to tell him! “I read part of my story to Mr. Baxter, who is a published author and a former instructor at Oxford.” Having blurted out the sentence, I paused to regulate my cadence. “He thinks my novel is worthy of publication and has given me helpful advice to improve my manuscript.”
“I am not surprised in the least—I expect you would excel at anything you set out to do.”
“Thank you.” A sliver of doubt lingered within me for Fitzwilliam’s magnanimous decision to tolerate my writing. Had he considered the ramifications? “Your friends and acquaintances may disapprove of me becoming a published authoress.”
He shrugged. “So be it. My destiny is to be surrounded by talented creators, which is to my benefit. Already, Miles has painted a captivating portrait of you that I shall treasure, and I hope to be one of the first to receive a signed copy of your book.”
“Oh, Fitzwilliam, I…” Mere words could not express my sentiment. I raised up on my toes and pressed my lips to his. He groaned and tightened his hold on me until I moulded against him. Every inch of me came alive with striking clarity. How I had missed him—his touch—his kisses . I fell into a bewitching reverie where nothing existed but us two and the torrent of exquisite sensations he wrought, from the tingles prickling my skin to the mild contractions in my belly. Still, like a famished person being given a bite of food, I yearned for more. And since he did not deepen the kiss, I took the initiative, and my tongue found its way into his mouth. He responded in kind, drawing me deeper into an intoxicative state. Then, with a sound akin to a growl, he withdrew, ending the spell and leaving me in that fulfilled yet bereft state.
“Although I very much want to continue, I think it is…unwise.” He straightened his coat. “The truth is, I am struggling to act as a gentleman.”
“Very well.” I repressed a sigh.
Fitzwilliam took an object from his waistcoat pocket and removed my glove. The twinkling emerald gem of my beloved ring glittered in the morning sunshine as he slipped the band onto my finger. “At last, this is where it belongs.”
“Thank you. I am delighted to have it back.” I extended my hand to admire the shimmering stone. “The band fits perfectly now. How did you manage this?”
“I made a fortunate guess and instructed the local jeweller to reduce it by one size.” He took me in his arms again and held me in a sober gaze. “Do you expect your father to present an obstacle for us?”
“No, he will see reason. Last night, Papa wanted to restrict me to the house because he assumed you would meet me on my morning walk. But when I objected and reminded him that he raised me to make my own decisions, he relented.”
“Do you know why he was so determined to separate us?”
“I suspect at least part of the reason is he missed me whilst I was away, and he does not want to lose me.”
“That cannot be helped, but perhaps access to the books in my libraries will soften the blow. Your father is welcome to stay with us at any time. In between visits, I shall instruct my messenger to carry books back and forth as he desires.”
“That noteworthy advantage ought to encourage his sympathy for your cause.”
He pressed his forehead to mine. “I shall attempt to convince your father that my primary object as your husband will be to ensure your safety and happiness.”
I inched back to meet his gaze. “Shall I tell you how to make me happy now?”
“By all means.”
“Before we return to Mr. Baxter’s house, may we try your fortitude once again?”
His dark eyes flared, and his mouth found mine in an instant—without a hint of restraint. I became lost to the delightful ministrations of his lips and tongue. When my legs buckled, he held me in a secure grip. Thus, I remained upright, exhilarated, and engulfed in ecstasy.
Although mutual misunderstandings had combined to separate us, Fitzwilliam went to great lengths to find me again. Who could have foreseen that my trip with Papa to visit a friend would precipitate such a heavenly reunion and restore my fractured heart?
THE END