Chapter 13
Elizabeth
Elizabeth Bennet saw hope in the eyes of both Darcys. There was more, there, too—admiration and gratitude. And in Mr. Darcy’s eyes, something so intense she dared not maintain eye contact.
Was Georgiana correct? Did Mr. Darcy like her…in a man-liking-a-woman sort of way?
But she firmly pushed the question away.
She did not like the fact that her young friend was being threatened with malicious gossip, and she did not like for anyone to be the victim of a would-be blackmailer.
She had to focus on safeguarding the Darcys, and to do that, she had to explain her ideas of how to defeat Miss Bingley’s stratagem.
She said, “I think that Miss Bingley’s information is so scant, and has not been repeated since the one overheard conversation, so I think that we should attempt to confuse her memories of the few names she heard.
If either of you have ever been to Margate or Ramsbury, I urge you to talk about those places.
I have also heard of South Gate, Bath Gate, and I believe Ramsbottom?
Over the course of a week, if you bring up these towns—especially a seaside town such as Margate—I think it will begin to erode her memory of the mention of Ramsgate, and I believe she may become less certain of her ‘facts.’”
Elizabeth saw that Mr. Darcy looked surprised and then thoughtful. He nodded once, narrowing his eyes as if deep in thought, and then he said, “There is no drawback to such a tactic, and I suppose such a thing is easily implemented.”
“I think the same strategy could be used to confuse Miss Bingley about Wickham’s name.
There are many similar names in England; consider all your acquaintances, and perhaps invent some.
I personally know of a Mr. Wickley, who owns a bookstore in Hatfield, and I read once of a Mr. Windham, in the newspaper, but I cannot recall who he was or where he was located.
I do not think it would be too far-fetched to invent a Mr. Wickall and a Mr. Wicken. ”
“Excellent thinking, Miss Elizabeth,” Mr. Darcy said. “I think both suggestions of your twofold plan are quite promising.”
“Oh, the attempt to confuse Miss Bingley’s memory of the names Ramsgate and Wickham is just one ‘fold,’ Mr. Darcy. The other suggestion I want to make is a little more underhanded.”
Georgiana laughed. “I cannot imagine you doing something underhanded, Elizabeth. And certainly not my brother! He is a paragon of virtue!”
“Oh, Georgie!” Mr. Darcy protested, blushing more vividly than Elizabeth had seen before. “I am certainly not a perfect exemplar of anything. Miss Elizabeth revealed a recent sample of my poor behaviour just a few minutes ago.”
Laughing alongside Georgiana, Elizabeth said, “Mr. Darcy, we are none of us perfect, but I think that your sister has pointed out a major problem with this second part of my twofold plan: I assume from my own experience and your reputation that disguise of every sort is abhorrent to your principles. However, when dealing with one who acts unscrupulously, I believe it is better to tell half truths or even outright lies if doing so protects the innocent; and if telling the absolute bald truth would cause harm to victims and bystanders.”
“Absolutely!” Mr. Darcy agreed.
“But—” Elizabeth suggested, “that does not mean that lying feels good, and it is certain that some people are better at play-acting than others.” She grinned at the two Darcys, saying, “You two…. I imagine that lying is not your forte.”
“So what is this second ‘fold’ of your two-part plan, Miss Elizabeth? The part in which my sister and I are doomed to failure, apparently.”
“I thought it would be a good idea to take advantage of Miss Bingley’s…
let us say her enjoyment of eavesdropping.
We could make sure she hears someone’s request for a private interview, a private discussion—and where and when it would be.
Then, we make sure that the information exchanged in this oh-so-important private discussion is false—and is something that can be easily verified as being false.
If she chooses to spread the so-called information, we will present the truth and the crystal clear evidence that proves the truth.
Miss Bingley will get the reputation of being unreliable and a gossip. ”
“Oh, that would be splendid!” Georgiana said. “Because it means that we would not be deliberately ruining her reputation—she would do it to herself!”
“That is the plan,” Elizabeth said. She gave Georgiana a warm smile and said, “See, by play acting, we could possibly teach her better manners. It would be a good thing, a highly moral thing…to lie.”
They all chuckled, but suddenly Darcy held up his hand. “There is someone coming on horseback,” he said. They all heard hoofbeats now, and faced the sound.
Of course it was Miss Caroline Bingley, the subject of their planning.
“What in the world are you doing way out here with her?” Miss Bingley said in a shrill, carrying voice. She was still some twenty feet away.
Elizabeth did not know if Miss Bingley was talking to Mr. Darcy or Georgiana, but she knew without the smallest doubt that she herself was the one referred to in the most scathing tones with the word her.
In case the Darcys were tongue-tied around the blackmailer, Elizabeth spoke up immediately.
“My apologies to the household for keeping Miss Darcy out so long that it became worrisome, but I am afraid that I exhausted her as we walked to visit all the tenants with medicinal supplies at the request of the steward. Thank goodness Mr. Darcy became so worried about his sister, he launched a rescue effort, and he finally found us.”
At that point, Miss Bingley was close enough that Elizabeth could see her narrowed eyes and downturned lips. She practically snarled, “Miss Eliza, you must understand that a gently bred lady cannot be stomping all over the fields like a country miss!”
Both Darcys surged into speech. Mr. Darcy stopped when he realised his sister was speaking, as well.
She said, “Miss Bingley, I am a country miss, just like Miss Elizabeth. The fact that I am not as good a walker is the fault of Pemberley’s amazing stables; I have so many wonderful horses who need exercise, I rarely walk far.
But ’tis not Miss Elizabeth’s fault in any way, and I enjoyed helping the tenants here, as I do at Pemberley. ”
Elizabeth felt so proud of Georgiana, and she could see by Mr. Darcy’s eyes that he was, too. He said, “I wanted to add that Miss Elizabeth Bennet is the daughter of a gentleman. She therefore is, in fact, gently born and bred.”
Mr. Darcy helped his sister to mount his horse; she looked a bit precarious sitting side-saddle on a man’s saddle.
He kept the reins in his hand, offered his other arm to Elizabeth, and strode off towards the manor house.
Miss Bingley huffed and puffed but had no option other than to turn her own mount and catch up with him.
Elizabeth found it easy to keep up with Mr. Darcy’s long strides because she had always walked quickly. He checked with warm looks, with questions—“Are you comfortable with this pace?”—and comments—“Do let me know if you wish to slow down or rest.”
She chuckled at his fourth check-in. “Mr. Darcy, I appreciate your concern, excessive though it may be. But as you know, I am a country miss, and I would add a hardy lass, a sturdy colleen, a robust maiden.”
He laughed, a looser sort of chuckle than she had ever heard from him, but he answered with the same sorts of words he had been using, “Certainly I know all of that, but do let me know if—”
“If I promise to you that I will let you know—if I make a most sacred vow that I shall, in fact, tell you if I am nearing collapse—will you trust me to remember to do so?”
“I will trust you to continue to use your superb and wide-ranging vocabulary as you admonish, chastise, even castigate me.”
They were both laughing, now, and Miss Bingley tapped her little whip, spurring her horse to increase his pace.
Once Miss Bingley was far away again, Elizabeth said, “Oh, dear, I fear we may need to immediately throw our plans into action. And perhaps keep from flaunting our superb and wide-ranging vocabularies with one another, at least in her hearing.”
“You are likely correct, Miss Elizabeth. I apologise for flirting with you. I assure you, I was not deliberately baiting her; I just…. I find it hard to…be as rational….” As Mr. Darcy floundered with his words, he blushed.
Elizabeth lowered her eyes in an effort to make him feel more comfortable, and he finished his apology with the words, “What I mean to say is, I will try to behave with more forbearance.”
Elizabeth wondered if she was falling for the man who claimed he was flirting with her but faltered endearingly as he tried to express himself.
When Elizabeth and the Darcys reached the manor house, after seeing Mr. Darcy’s horse to the stables, they finally saw Mr. Bingley for the first time that day.
He trotted over to Mr. Darcy and pumped his hand as he thanked him heartily, “I hear I owe you so much, my friend. The tales I have heard today about your heroism with the buckets and knocking down burning timbers! And I also thank you for going into Meryton to alert Mr. Philips of our little problem, and for providing breakfast for all of us!”
“You are most welcome, Bingley. I found my sister,” he said quite unnecessarily, because Georgiana was walking by his side.
Elizabeth asked Mr. Bingley, “Did Mr. Hill come with some luncheon from Longbourn?”
He turned his eager smile in her direction and said, “He certainly did, Miss Elizabeth, and I was going to thank you next for such a generous gesture!”
Mr. Darcy said, “Miss Elizabeth has also done a great deal more than that. She set up hot drinks for the staff in the morning, then she went to great lengths to help Mr. Tomkins make a comprehensive list of damaged and destroyed items, and finally she and my sister travelled to every one of your tenants to tend to their fire-caused injuries.”
Mr. Bingley swung his head from Mr. Darcy to Elizabeth, and then back and forth again. His eyes were wide, his eyebrows elevated, and his skin flushed in a splotchy way. “Goodness!” he said. “I had not the smallest idea—I thank you, Miss Elizabeth, again and again. And I thank you, Miss Darcy!”
Shaking himself like a collie shaking off water, he said, “The luncheon supplies are in the blue drawing room. Please help yourself.”
Elizabeth said, “I must visit my sister first. I have spent little time with her today. Excuse me.”
A few minutes later, Elizabeth saw that Jane was asleep, although Susan assured her that she had been awake most of the morning. “She is doing so much better, miss, it is as if the cold nighttime helped her to get better rather than made her worse, as I feared.”
Because her sister was sleeping, and because Elizabeth was hungry, she went down to the drawing room to get a plate of food. She went back upstairs with her food and dismissed Susan with many heartfelt thanks for her excellent care.
Elizabeth gladly began to read about Alexander von Humboldt’s excursion to Ecuador.
She loved to read while she ate; it was a special treat that she was rarely allowed in her busy home.
Here in Jane’s sick room, she sat in a wide chair, tucked her feet up under her skirts, and nibbled at her roll, cheese, and meat from the plate she had placed on the nearby table.
She felt breathless as she read about Humboldt and his team climbing up a volcano called Chimborazo—and learning about how hard it was for the explorers to breathe as they ascended to such heights.
When Jane awoke, Elizabeth saw to her every comfort.
Of course she checked her sister’s temperature and listened to her lungs—and all was well in those regards—and she helped Jane refresh herself and then settle back into bed.
She made sure that she had eaten as she urged her to drink some water. “Should I ring for tea now?” she asked.
Jane demurred and asked her sister to read the novel.
“I will in a moment,” Elizabeth said. “First, let me smooth the bed linens.”
Jane’s eyebrows went up with Elizabeth’s words, since she had just smoothed the bed linens. But because Elizabeth immediately moved to another table and began writing on a sheet of blank paper, Jane did not say anything.
Elizabeth brought the written message to her sister. It said, “We have an eavesdropper. We are not free to say everything we might wish to here.”
Jane’s eyes widened, but all she said was, “Oh dear, I believe that I have made a lump in the bedding just now. Could you help me?”
Elizabeth nodded her approval and burned the scrap of paper in the fireplace, then wrote another note: “We must stay here a few more days to help Mr. and Miss Darcy. A young girl’s reputation is in danger.
” Elizabeth did not want to even consider the idea that she might be putting off returning home so that she could see more of Mr. Darcy.
She showed this second note to Jane, and she was proud that her sister picked right up on what must be done, saying, “Thank you, Lizzy, the bedding is perfect now. I wish my head was, though. I feel decidedly worse than I did this morning.”
“Oh, no, Jane. Do you think you are worse off because of last night’s necessity of sitting out in the cold?”
“That may be the reason. I just wish I could get well enough to go home, but Mr. Jones said not to travel if I was feeling poorly, and right now I feel quite, quite poorly.”
Elizabeth burned that paper, as well, making sure the flames fully consumed both messages, and then she picked up the novel and began to read to her sister about the trials and tribulations of the Earl of Glenthorne.