Chapter Thirteen
Some Secrets Revealed
In the end, it was Mama who inadvertently abetted Lizzy’s plans.
She had, overnight, concocted a plan that would both serve to impress Mr. Collins and forward Jane’s chances with Mr. Bingley, and had decided to put on a fine dinner the following evening for the party from Netherfield.
To this end, she was already bustling about the house and conferring with Mrs. Hill when Lizzy came to the vestibule to retrieve her boots and bonnet for her morning walk.
“Lizzy, there you are,” she rolled her eyes heavenwards by way of a morning greeting.
“I had expected you down earlier. I must have you take this invitation over to Netherfield at once. Hurry, now, for it would not do if they were to receive another invitation and accept it before reading ours. No, no, never mind that it is early and Miss Bingley unlikely to have risen. The servants will take it. That is what they are there for, is it not? Hurry along, young lady! Off you go!”
If she felt the desire to object to her mother’s plans, she voiced them not.
Mama would not hear of proposing some dates for the dinner in deference to the Bingleys’ preferences, nor would she consider that they might have been invited elsewhere several days before.
It was a given, in Mrs. Bennet’s mind, that everybody in the neighbourhood was always awaiting an invitation to Longbourn, and that all other engagements must necessarily take second place to her own.
Moreover, on this particular morning, Lizzy was more than pleased for an excuse to leave the house and the simpering attentions of Mr. Collins, and a walk to Netherfield seemed the perfect answer.
Even if her cousin had been present to put himself forward in her attentions, he would not manage the walk thither and back, six miles in all.
“I shall set off at once, Mama,” was therefore her response. “‘Tis a grand day, and I believe I shall walk...” She eyed her mother, waiting for the usual huff and muffled exhortation about her unladylike ways and was not disappointed.
“Really, you carry on like a common hoyden, Lizzy, walking through all that mud. Very well, there is no arguing with you. Here is the invitation. Do not give it to Mr. Bingley himself, for you will not be fit to be seen in fine company, but make certain that the maid or housekeeper knows to inform him that you brought it yourself, for it a mark of respect to deliver one’s own invitations.
And I suppose there is no point to tell you to hurry back, for you shall certainly miss breakfast. Go, take an apple and some cakes, and perhaps Mrs. Nuttall at Netherfield will be kind enough to give you some tea before you turn back.
Go, girl, hurry up already. What are you waiting for? ”
By now, Lizzy had tied her boots and secured her bonnet to her head and delayed only long enough to procure some victuals for her journey before setting off into the bright morning.
The lure of the warm autumn morning and the opportunity to escape her house were reasons enough to be pleased for the task of delivering the invitation, but there was also the possibility of meeting Mr. Darcy and relating to him what she had heard last night.
She could, she was certain, devise some way of spiriting him into the house and upstairs to the storage room, where the mysterious machine sat unattended.
She would be certain to examine it herself upon her return home, but she was equally certain that Mr. Darcy’s knowledge and experience would make the exercise that much more profitable.
She had walked about half the distance to Netherfield when she heard the thrumming of hoofs on the path ahead, and looking up, spied none other than Mr. Darcy himself riding towards her.
He sat tall upon the horse and rode with an ease that bespoke many hours at the activity.
If his shoulder still pained him, it was not evident in his demeanour, and the very thought of it made her smile.
“Miss Elizabeth!” his voice boomed across the fields. He slowed the beast, and when close enough, dismounted and offered her a bow. “I am delighted to see you this morning. I was heading over to Longbourn in the very hopes of such an encounter. I trust you slept well?”
She returned his bow with a curtsey and a wide grin.
How much recovered he looked from the previous day, when even after his sleep he had dark shadows under his eyes and the pale skin of one not entirely well.
Now he looked rested and in good health, and he—or his valet—had taken pains with his appearance.
His cheeks were smoothly shaven and his sideburns trimmed at the exact level of his cheekbones, which always made a handsome man even more so.
He wore the comfortable clothing suited to a country morning, but even now his cravat was perfectly tied and folded, and his waistcoat mirrored the dark brown of his eyes and hair.
When he smiled, it was as if the sun shone from his eyes, and Elizabeth felt her heart begin to race and blood suffuse her cheeks.
In the bright light of the morning, with the sun gilding his hair in gold and illuminating the world around him, he looked to her like some dangerous angel come to tempt her beyond her control.
What was it about this man that made her doubt her senses?
As much as she had tried to maintain her cool distance from him, she anticipated every new meeting and longed to be with him, talk to him, feel the warmth of his company.
His smile undid her, and she fought to find rational words to speak to him.
“I slept well, I thank you,” she managed. “You look very much rested and recovered from your megrim. Your arm...” she gestured to where he now held his tall hat.
“Is feeling quite the thing! I shan’t be riding in the races, but I believe I am almost recovered.
” He spoke words of commonplace sense, but his eyes did not leave hers and she felt pulled into their depths.
She had felt a glimmer of this the night before in the stairwell and in the storage room.
Now the sensation was startling in its intensity.
“I have...” she started, her mouth dry. “I have an invitation for you... that is, I have an invitation for Mr. Bingley and the residents of Netherfield. From my mother, for you all to join us for dinner tomorrow. I was walking to Netherfield to deliver it.” She swallowed. “And in hopes of meeting you.”
“My lady.” He took her hand and kissed the back of it.
The butterfly press of his lips, barely touching her skin, sent her heart racing once more.
“May I escort you to Netherfield and thence back to Longbourn once your invitation has been delivered. I must warn you,” he added in a velvet voice, “that none of the family is yet awake.”
She flushed. “I am in no state to be visiting; I meant only to leave the note with Mrs. Nuttall or one of the servants.”
“Then we shall do it together.” Was this charming smile genuine, or yet another display of the persona he used to befriend the village? At this moment, it mattered not as long as it was directed at her.
He led his mount back in the direction from which he had ridden, keeping an up easy conversation as they walked, until just before the gates to the park.
“I am flattered that you wished to meet with me today, Miss Elizabeth, but I dare not imagine that you desired only my company. Before we approach too near to the house and listening ears, how may I assist you?”
“Your company is incentive enough,” she blushed, “but you are correct. I have something to tell you, which you will want to hear!”
“I am at your service.”
With careful words, she recounted to him what she had overheard the previous evening.
The names meant nothing to him—he had heard of neither Jean-Michel, nor Etienne—and had no idea whom the agent might be.
But, as Lizzy had suspected, he was intrigued at the news that the room would lie abandoned for one or two days.
“I had hoped we might explore it together,” she whispered at last. “It is very forward of me, but we have already been there together, and I know I can trust your discretion.”
“If not my motives?” he teased. She said nothing but knew her eyes answered for her.
“There is a door from the drawing room in the tower to the garden at the side of the house. It is seldom used, and the servants never go there. I can enter the house, which will raise no one’s conjecture, and meet you there. Then we can ascend to the room with the machine. Will that suit?”
“Most certainly. Shall we complete our duties here and then set off for Longbourn?”
Elizabeth’s plans came to full fruition, and by the time the sun told of mid-morning, the invitation had been delivered, the horse returned to his stable, and she and her companion had reached the grounds of Longbourn once more.
The small garden by the drawing room was a pretty place, with some few shrubs and some stone benches that in springtime would be surrounded by wildflowers.
The whole was enclosed by a waist-high fence and entered through an ornate wrought-iron gate, which was not locked.
The door to the drawing room was flanked by two bushes, either of which would conceal a man for a few moments if one were not looking too hard to find him.
“Wait there and I shall come to you as quickly as I can.” With those words, she skirted around to the main door to the house and announced herself tired from her walk.
“I shall take some tea in my room, if you don’t mind sending some up, Mrs. Hill.
Perhaps an extra slice of cheese or two would do nicely, for I missed breakfast.”