Chapter Darcy Coach
Darcy Coach
“Jane, I love that nickname. Say you will use it forever. I never had a nickname before.”
“Of course, Annie. Lizzy sometimes calls me Janie.”
The friends seemed reunited as if nothing had happened, though quite a lot had.
Mr Darcy’s assertion that Anne de Bourgh—despite titled relations, an enormous estate, and fabulous wealth—possessed not a single real friend save her two male lunkheaded cousins, was the saddest thing Jane had ever heard.
She was not na?ve enough to believe it was really the saddest thing in the world, but she considered it her right and privilege to grieve for anything she chose; and Anne’s lack of friends was important.
Jane’s honest reaction to the woman who was, in fact, her own first true friend, summoned the spirit of Grandmother Gardiner, standing right behind Anne, smiling in approval.
When someone feels low, it matters not if they are ‘entitled’ to their feelings…
not truly. Remember this, my girl. Feelings are Facts.
What people feel drives what they do, and it can be as real to them as pain.
If someone is feeling poorly, and you can comfort them at little cost to yourself, then it is your right and privilege to do so.
She remembered the conversation from a day she came in grumbling that Annabelle Golding was whining and crying over some trifling thing Marybeth Long said.
Jane hardly noticed the offence but definitely noticed the reaction.
She felt it had ruined their afternoon of play, and she complained bitterly to her grandmother.
Grandmother Gardiner gave her a lesson in life, but mostly in the manner of its delivery, and Jane never quite forgot it. She did not always live up to her ideal of behaviour, but she always tried.
As her grandmother nodded in satisfaction, her friend Anne smiled brightly enough to dim the sun.
Her cousin Darcy, feeling bold, impertinent, or both, raised a fist and gave her the lightest tap on the forehead—more a caress than an assault. “May I call you Annie as well?”
Still basking in the happiness of Jane's ready acceptance, she nodded and replied mischievously, “Of course, Lunkhead.”
Once again, the ladies were treated to the sound of Fitzwilliam Darcy laughing his head off.
“I always thought you were beautiful, Annie, but today you look extraordinary. Now, if you plan to maintain that smile, I will gather Mr Chamberlain and put out the fire you are about to start in yon woods.”
The group laughed at that, everyone feeling much less tense.
Ellen asked, “How did you appear like that, Miss—”
She faltered, realising she addressed someone of real consequence that she had not even been introduced to, but Darcy pitched in.
“Courage, Miss Taylor. Annie here is your friend too; she is merely not aware of it yet. I can assure you that the only person in this group to be rapped on the forehead is me.”
He stepped to a spot exactly halfway between the two women. “Miss Anne de Bourgh, may I have the great pleasure of introducing my friend, Miss Ellen Taylor.”
The entire operation astounded Anne. Miss Taylor wore Darcy’s greatcoat, but she was obviously a maid; yet Anne had seen her cousin Darcy treat peers with less consideration.
She followed his lead and offered the maid of all work a better curtsy than she gave her mother’s closest acquaintances; Miss Taylor, having no idea what to do, offered the best she had.
The woman was nervous, and Anne belatedly noticed a bandage on her wrist that had bled through. She would not bleed to death, but common sense suggested a better place for their meeting.
Anne laughed, approached the young maid, and took her arm.
“Miss Taylor, have you ever considered travelling to India to take up snake charming? I understand it is quite profitable, and you obviously have a talent for it.”
Darcy laughed with everyone else and even emitted an adequate hiss.
“As to your question, Miss Taylor, Anne learned to appear and disappear quietly when we were children. Let us just say she has a mother who makes such a technique essential. I have never once in fifteen years caught her when she did not wish to be caught.”
Anne laughed. “I will teach you if you like, Miss Taylor— may I call you Ellen?”
“To be honest, I’ve been confused this whole time. Mr Darcy calls me ‘Miss Taylor,’ but I am only a maid of all work. Everyone uses given names with downstairs maids and just surnames upstairs.”
Anne looked at Darcy and arched an eyebrow.
“I have not the slightest objection to enlightening you. You show something my cousin, an Army Colonel, calls ‘spunk.’ It is a sort of reckless courage. You have from the beginning treated me as an equal… or at least you do until you are frightened, and even that does not last long. I like it very much, so I call you Miss Taylor out of respect. I shall continue to do so until you change it to Mrs.”
The three women shook their heads in confusion, but concluded Darcy could follow whatever conventions he pleased.
“I thank you for that,” Ellen said. “I appreciate the honour. But for Miss de Bourgh and Miss Bennet, I prefer ‘Ellen,’ though I could never use your Christian names.”
“Shall we continue this in the coach?” Anne asked. “I can explain how I sneak up on people, but in this case, your discussion was so intense I could have been delivered by Napoleon’s seventh army. It was not one of my best efforts. I simply stood behind that bush until you were distracted.”
“How long have you been listening?” Darcy asked.
Anne held out her hand. “Give me that disgusting handkerchief. I can at least rinse it while I anxiously await your answers.”
Darcy laughed, while Anne whispered, “Do not worry. You will get your Lizzy’s handkerchief back.”
“She is not my—” Darcy grumbled, but fell silent under Anne's stare, as she pointed some hundred yards down the road.
“By some strange twist of fate, your coachman halted there for a problem with the carriage, and I did not notice your little meeting until I got out to stretch my legs. I believe he has repaired it, so if you would signal him, we can continue our discussion in greater comfort. It has four horses, so perhaps you can tell us about the Four Horsewomen.”
“Miss Bennet? Are you willing to appear in Meryton in my coach?”
“Oh, leave off, Fitzwilliam,” Anne replied. “While I applaud your working on your manners, and perfectly well comprehend Jane’s problem with appearances, you are practising on the wrong Bennet sister.”
Jane gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.
Anne said, “Oops!”
Darcy said, “Never mind. I shall answer Miss Bennet’s questions anyway, so let us at least get moving.”
Jane found the Darcy coach the finest she had ever entered, and Ellen Taylor was certain of it.
As much as Anne would have liked to sit beside her friend, that would put poor Miss Taylor in an awkward position, so she took the seat beside her cousin.
Darcy noticed the care given to the arrangement and whispered to her, “Are you certain you are not adopted?”
Anne laughed gaily, and Darcy rapped the roof of the carriage to depart, and spent a few minutes settling.
Anne took charge. “William, by my count you are about halfway through any number of topics and finished with none.”
She started ticking them off on her fingers. “There is the future Mrs Ellen; the Four Horsewomen, which I imagine will be some type of apocalyptic discussion; and then of course the almighty third point: Janie’s three questions.”
“You are confused regarding the horsewomen,” Darcy replied. “The horsemen signal the Apocalypse. I hope the horsewomen signal redemption and renewal.”
All three ladies looked at him in confusion, and Ellen bravely asked, “Will you eventually begin to make sense?”
Darcy laughed, and the tension eased.
Pleased with Anne's new nickname for her, Jane smiled in approval. “Do not forget ‘Oops!’”
Darcy tried his best to look scholarly. “Well, that question is but another form of your third query: What in the world have you done with my sister?”
Jane looked at him with dawning realisation, her face growing more surprised, before she almost shouted, “You are in love with her!”
Darcy bowed from the waist with the best show of respect he could manage in a carriage, trying not to fall into her lap, which would have ruined the effect.
“Yes, I am, but there is much more to tell, none of which paints me in a favourable light; or even a less than terrible one.”
Disregarding propriety, Jane slid forward in her seat until her knees were less than an inch from Darcy’s, boldly took his hands, and searched his face for a long moment. He accepted the examination as her just due and simply let the lady make her own assessment.
Eventually, Jane released his hands, slid back into the seat, and asked, “Did you anger or frighten her?”
Darcy sighed resignedly. “Both! Confused her as well.”
He could not meet her gaze.
Jane’s expression hardened. “Did you dishonour or compromise her?”
Darcy’s face paled. “No!” he cried with a finality that brooked no argument.
Jane studied him closely for a moment while Anne and Ellen looked on, then sighed. “I need a few minutes to ponder. Perhaps you can return to Ellen or the horsewomen.”
“Miss Taylor, do you believe in fate?”
"’Course I do. Life'd be a sad and scattered affair if we couldna believe in something beyond ourselves. I'll not be rattling on about it all day, but some things are meant to be."
“Let me tell you a about my friend Robert Breton. As I said, he is one of the few men I trust implicitly. I can tell you there has been only one true calamity in my family, and it occurred when he was absent. To this day, I believe he would have prevented the misfortune had he been present.”
“Are you to be a matchmaker, sir?”
“Certainly not! If you allow it, I am to be an introduction maker. You are almost certainly one of my horsewomen, so I feel a sort of familial responsibility for you—something like an older cousin or uncle. If you like Breton, all will be well, but understand this: if you do not, you need not accept him. I will introduce you to others until you are satisfied.”
The ladies gasped and stared at him, but only Anne had the foresight to ask, “Why, Cousin? I understand your attachment to Breton. I would snatch him up myself if I could, but why Ellen? Much as I like her, you have less than an hour’s acquaintance.”
Darcy saw everyone staring at him. “Have you ever felt that something has a certain rightness to it? A quality so inherently right that to fail to do it would be wrong? Not merely negligent, or a lost opportunity, but a wrong—practically a crime? To give it less than your fullest effort would be cowardly and vile?”
The ladies nodded with some understanding, at least hypothetically, since none had experienced anything remotely similar.
“Well, ladies, this feels right, and what is the point of being a powerful man if you cannot occasionally increase the right in the world? I cannot balance all the scales, but I can put my bit on the side of right. I have two friends who may or may not suit. It is not my place to encourage or discourage—but I can help them decide for themselves.”
Anne studied him carefully. “Are you certain you were not adopted—in the last hour?”
Darcy laughed and tapped his forehead. Anne obliged by rapping it a few times, and the others joined in.
He returned to Ellen. “I spoke of fate. Breton will not allow me to increase his wage beyond what he deems right and proper. I have made his quarters both in London and Derbyshire as good as I can, but I need to be sneaky about it. He is the most straight-line man I know. When we were seventeen, he told me the sum he wanted to accumulate before he married—to the pound—and he started saving for that day.”
Ellen said, “That is to his credit.”
“I agree, and here fate comes into play. This very morning, I spoke with him as he saddled my horse. He casually mentioned that he had reached the figure. I asked if he had anyone he fancied, and he asked me for a favour. Bear in mind, this is a man who never asks for anything if he can help it. He does not know anyone suitable, so asked if I might keep my eyes open.”
Ellen regarded him with a bit of fire. “So, you just grabbed the first maid you happened to meet? Do you think so little of him?”
Alarmed, Darcy sat bolt upright. “No! I do not think so little of him… I think so much of you!”
“That is impossible. We have talked for a dozen minutes at best.”
Darcy leaned towards Ellen but turned abruptly. “Anne, is your memory still prodigious?”
“Of course.”
“I fail to convey my meaning to Miss Taylor. Pray, repeat what you said about me on the stairs when we were last at Rosings regarding language.”
Anne thought a moment and laughed happily. “Ellen, my cousin wants me to repeat something I said to him after he told an amusing anecdote: ‘Truly, William, I wonder if you understand the King's English. No wonder you scared poor Miss Bennet away!’”
Everyone gasped, and Darcy said, “Thank you, Anne—though you might have saved that last part for a few minutes. However, Miss Taylor, I am easy to misunderstand—or I must assume so as it happens regularly—so let me be clear. You are important to me. Breton is important to me. I think you might suit, hate the very sight of each other, or be entirely indifferent. If you wish to meet him, I will introduce you. If you do not, I will demur. It is up to you. There is no need to decide right now or even soon. You have my card. Write to me if you wish to meet him, or anyone else I might know, and I shall arrange it.”
Jane laughed. “My aunt will be vexed with you… again.”
Darcy chuckled. “That will put her in good company. All the finest women I know are vexed with me.”
Jane laughed softly, wondering what Lizzy would think of this Mr Darcy.
“It is time to proceed to the horsewomen, then,” he said.
“That may be best,” Anne replied.
“I should very much like to meet your Mr Breton,” Miss Taylor added.
He smiled broadly. “I shall enjoy the privilege while I can, Miss Taylor. Soon, I suspect, he will be your Mr Breton.”
Ellen coloured deeply, though it could not hide her radiant smile.