Chapter 10
Despite the late hour at which she found her bed, Elizabeth had tossed and turned for some time before sleep claimed her.
At length, she had hit upon a plan she thought might be agreeable to all: to simply return Lord Saye’s money to him and urge him to find somewhere else to stay.
Indeed, Mr Hartham had mentioned only last night that a house on the north side of the town had been unexpectedly vacated; she hoped it might do.
Mr Gardiner agreed to accompany her to speak to his lordship, and they set out after breakfast, both of them still unaccustomed to the cacophonous chatter of seagulls at all hours.
Her eyes were grainy and her body felt heavy and clumsy from the want of sleep, but the sea air was invigorating. “I do love the seaside,” she told her uncle. “I know we have not been here long, but there truly is nothing equal to it.”
“Perhaps you will wish to live here, once renovations are complete. You will have the means to hire a companion.” He chuckled as he added, “And I do not doubt you would have a sister or two to stay with you, whether you wanted one or not.”
“Something does tell me that being in possession of a fine home by the sea will subject me to a great deal of company,” Elizabeth replied agreeably.
Her cheer evaporated in the next moment as her mind strayed to the company presently occupying said fine home.
“I fear it will be more difficult to extract Lord Saye’s party than to refuse my sisters.
Nothing seems to deter him, not even the ceilings caving in! ”
The image of Mr Darcy—of all people—standing beneath the hole in her ceiling, drenched through, with bits of plaster in his hair, tormented her.
And yet still as handsome as ever. She scolded herself for thinking such a thing.
He must be unutterably furious and more convinced than ever that anything associated with the Bennets is barbaric and inelegant!
Mr Gardiner clucked and shook his head. “What I still fail to comprehend is how his lordship thought it sound to simply arrive at a place.”
“I believe Lord Saye, like most wealthy and titled men, is accustomed to having his way of things. My hope is that for however unceremoniously they appeared, I might persuade him and his guests to decamp with equal alacrity.”
They arrived at the house, and Elizabeth paused to look at it. No matter the problems it brought her, she still felt a little thrill each time she beheld it. Her house! Who could ever have imagined such a thing?
And who could ever have imagined that one of my first guests would be the man whose marriage offer I spurned!
Once at the door, she was presented with another problem.
Was it appropriate that she and Mr Gardiner should simply enter?
She had done so the night before, but that was when she believed it to be unoccupied; it felt entirely wrong to do so now.
But if they knocked, who was there to answer—had Lord Saye brought servants with him?
It was the arrival of Mr Tucker that solved the dilemma; he had no reluctance whatsoever to opening the door for them and gesturing them through.
“I have a woman coming today to take up the position of housekeeper—a Mrs Wiggins,” he told them as they entered.
“Her references suggest she is excellent. Perhaps, Miss Bennet, you would like to make her acquaintance? If you like her, she might well become your housekeeper once his lordship and his friends have quit the place.”
Elizabeth nodded. “Thank you, yes.”
“You should know, Mr Tucker, that my niece hopes to persuade Lord Saye to seek alternative lodgings,” said Mr Gardiner.
Mr Tucker chuckled. “Miss Bennet must be of infinitely more persuasive character than I if she is able to effect that.”
“I had hoped, rather, that the ceiling raining down in chunks on his lordship’s family might do the trick,” Elizabeth replied. “It is one thing to imagine sleeping rough, but being amid the reality of it can be far different.”
“I could not agree more.”
Mr Darcy’s words announced his arrival in the vestibule.
Elizabeth, whose back had been to him, jumped a little.
She turned, feeling all the awkwardness of their horribly recent nocturnal encounter, and forced herself to meet his gaze.
“Ah…you are already awake. I hope it is not our arrival that has disturbed you?” Again, she thought, instantly regretting her choice of words.
“I tend not to sleep well when I fear the ceiling may collapse on me at any moment,” he said coldly, all the civility that he had shown when they met on the Promenade the previous afternoon now gone. “Or that I might find strangers creeping about outside my bedchamber.”
While he ostensibly spoke to all, it was clear his words were directed at her, and they made her flush uncomfortably.
She glanced at her uncle but he, already engaged in a conversation with Mr Tucker about shipping contacts and building materials, only said an amiable “Good day” and wandered with the foreman into the next room.
Elizabeth privately congratulated him for such a want of deference towards the man who had so emphatically scorned his condition in life but a few short months ago.
It gave her the strength to set aside her embarrassment as she addressed Mr Darcy.
“Your party arrived early,” she said defiantly. “Lord Saye’s lease has not yet commenced, and thus I had every right to be here at any hour. The house is mine, after all.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I heard nothing in Hertfordshire of you owning property.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “There is a great deal about me you do not know, sir.”
There was a little sound, and Elizabeth saw, over Mr Darcy’s shoulder, another piece of plaster decoration giving way and falling to the floor in a pouf of dust. She pretended not to notice.
“Yes, apparently that is true,” he said coldly. A creeping flush had arisen on his countenance. “The man from last night, is it?”
“Mr Hartham?”
“Is that his name?” Mr Darcy sneered. “I did not care to listen to the introductions.”
“Mr Hartham’s aunt, the Dowager Countess of Preston, lives next door. He is staying with her.”
“How exceedingly convenient.”
Elizabeth hesitated, feeling there was a hidden meaning in his words that she did not comprehend. “I beg your pardon?”
“I could not have imagined—” He cut himself off and silently shook his head.
“Of what do you accuse me, sir? You seem to have ascribed some manner of misdemeanour to me, but I fear I do not at all understand you.”
Mr Darcy took a step closer to her and, in a lower voice, said, “This is his doing, is it not?” He gestured about him. “He is settling you here.”
At once, she understood him perfectly and her jaw dropped.
Rage swelled in her breast, and for a brief moment, she feared she might slap him.
With cool dignity, she said, “You are grievously mistaken in both your assumption and your understanding of my character. This house was left to me by my aunt. Not that it is any of your business.”
“Your aunt?”
She could almost hear his incredulity, the disdainful curl of his lips all but shouting, ‘Mrs Philips?’ or ‘Your aunt in Cheapside? I think not!’ She gave a tight nod. “Mrs Agatha Bennet. Widow to my father’s elder brother.”
“I was not aware your father had an elder brother.”
“Why should you be?”
“Well then, why did you not tell me this was your house when we met yesterday?” he demanded.
“I did not know then that my house was where you were staying! Why should I think it had anything to do with you?”
“Because Saye is my cousin!”
“And I was meant to know that? Other than Miss de Bourgh and the colonel, and some mention of a younger sister, I know next to nothing about your family circle.”
“He never mentioned that he was a Fitzwilliam?” Mr Darcy crossed his arms over his chest, mirroring her pose. “Not once?”
She raised one shoulder and allowed it to fall, hoping it communicated her disdain. “Perhaps familial pride is less important to him than it is to some others. In any case, might I ask that you summon him for me? I came here to speak with him, not to have my character defamed.”
She turned her back on him, and began to slowly move about the vestibule, pretending to examine things here and there but in truth, attempting to overcome her anger.
He did not leave. She heard no footsteps, and in fact could clearly hear his respirations, quick and a little ragged, behind her.
“I owe you an apology,” he said finally.
“No matter,” she said airily. “It is what you and I do, is it not? Misunderstand, judge, and then hurl insults at one another.” She came to a stop in front of a window casement and turned to regard him.
“I confess, I had believed you did your worst at Hunsford, but I congratulate you for having pained me even more.”
He ran a hand through his hair and sighed heavily. “That was not my intention.”
“Allow me to offer you some counsel in your doings with the fairer sex. Think long and hard before accusing a woman of being kept.”
Mr Darcy permitted his shoulders to slump, and he sighed heavily again.
He walked slowly to the window on the opposite side of the front door from the one she was pretending to examine.
After a short hesitation, he leant his forehead against the glass and closed his eyes before softly saying, “Jealousy is the green-eyed monster, which doth mock the meat it feeds on.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Shakespeare.”
“Yes, I know that,” she said. “But your context eludes me.”
He raised his head and offered her a half smile. “I am jealous.”
She tilted her head. “Of Mr Hartham?”
“Of any man who has your friendship,” he replied ruefully. “But since last night, specifically Mr Hartham. I fear such musings, along with the lack of sleep, have rendered me even more ungentlemanly than before.”
Jealous? The word, and the humility in his aspect, softened her. “I am not the sort of woman who—”
“I know. Truly, I do. It was a most absurd thing to say, and I regret it heartily. Only you were with him in the middle of the night, unchaperoned. And then you came in here just now so fresh-faced and more beautiful than ever, and I decided at once that you must be in love with him.”
Wholly discomfited by his frankness, Elizabeth hardly knew what to say or do. He had never told her he thought she was beautiful, not even when he proposed. Rather pitifully, she mumbled, “It is the sea air, I daresay, that makes me…fresh. Not love.”
There was a short silence between them.
“I have tended to your reproofs,” he said earnestly. “Or at least I have tried to. Clearly there is ground to be gained, but I—”
The sound of footsteps descending the stairs interrupted him. Lord Saye appeared a second later on the landing. “What sort of savages are awake and talking at such an hour? And what are the damned birds about all the time? I never heard such a racket!”