Chapter 9 #2
Cold logic dictated that Elizabeth truly had no reason to be nervous.
No one would ever think to look for her in connection with Mr. Darcy, and her only acquaintance from Hertfordshire who was at all likely to visit unannounced was Mr. Bingley.
She had it on excellent authority that the worthy gentleman was cozily ensconced at Netherfield with his new bride in newlywed bliss, and therefore he would not be dropping casually by Darcy House.
She needed fear no others among Mr. Darcy's usual social circle, exalted beyond her own as it was.
The only vector remaining that could possibly reveal her was that of the servants, who knew everything and everyone, but her new identity would serve her there; should the servants gossip about Mrs. Gregson taking a new companion, it would do no harm for the name of Miss Wantage to trickle back to Mr. Bennet, which was not likely anyway.
Elizabeth was confident that Mr. Darcy would not have invited them to come over for dinner if there was any danger.
He had in every way acted with careful consideration and concern for her safety.
He would not grow sloppy and careless now.
Indeed, as much as Elizabeth enjoyed staying with Mrs. Gregson, she was beginning to grow restless with being largely trapped indoors.
Not that riding in a carriage to the next neighborhood was comparable to a good brisk walk along a tree-lined path, but it was at least a change of scenery and company.
She was eager to see Miss Darcy again, too.
Though she was the same age as Lydia, Elizabeth could not imagine two girls more different.
Where Lydia was loud and boisterous and selfish, Miss Darcy was quiet and sweet and almost painfully shy.
Wickham's accusation of pride was a slanderous lie, for nothing could be further from the truth.
Elizabeth, knowing of Wickham's perfidy the previous summer, thought it quite likely that his cruelty and manipulation and betrayal had played no small part in Miss Darcy's hesitancy in company.
The scoundrel! How heartless he had been to play upon the childhood fondness of an innocent, kindhearted young girl, to convince her that she was in love with him so that he could seize her dowry. It was no wonder that poor Miss Darcy was uncertain around strangers after her ordeal.
Just thinking about the wicked Wickham made Elizabeth's blood boil. Oh, how she wished he could be punished for his cruel schemes! But how, without dragging Miss Darcy’s good name into scandal?
Therein lay the rub. Yet really, something ought to be done lest he turn his wiles and considerable charm to the ensnarement of some other poor, innocent girl.
Her thoughts were interrupted as they turned into a short drive that ran up and around in a semi-circle before a very fine house.
As they came up even with the front door, the coachman pulled the horses to a halt, the ladies within the carriage swaying slightly as the conveyance ground to a stop and a footman leapt down.
Moments later, the cozy warmth of the carriage suffered an inrush of cold air, as the door was opened to them by the manservant.
Elizabeth ducked out the door, accepting the servant’s offered arm to alight and snugging her pelisse about herself against the bone-deep chill as the older lady descended after her.
“Well, my dear, here we are,” Mrs. Gregson said with a twinkle in her eye. “Shall we?”
“By all means,” Elizabeth returned, smiling back and took the older lady’s arm.
She was grateful that the broad, shallow steps up to the door were not icy but provided firm support underfoot.
Their arrival must have been noted, for the door swung wide as they reached the top step, welcoming them with a warm gust of air.
The vestibule glowed like sunshine with a candelabra set before a mirror on the table right inside, the heavy oak door swinging shut behind them against the cold outside.
Two maids stepped forward to take their pelisses and bonnets.
Elizabeth handed her outerwear over even as she admired an antique lace doily on a side table beside the candles and the China vase filled with dried pink roses.
“Aunt Gregson, Miss Wantage, good evening,” a male voice said from their left, and Elizabeth turned and smiled at Mr. Darcy, who was standing tall and handsome but a few feet away.
“Good evening,” Mrs. Gregson said. “Thank you for inviting us to dinner, Nephew.”
“It is my very great pleasure,” Darcy replied. “May I escort you to the drawing room where Georgiana and her companion are waiting?”
He held out both arms and the ladies joined him, with Mrs. Gregson on his right and Elizabeth on his left.
She found herself blushing a little at the strength in that arm.
She knew that Mr. Darcy was an excellent rider, but beyond that, she had never wondered how he maintained his truly impressive figure.
Perhaps he boxed at Jackson’s school? Or dueled with friends using buttoned rapiers?
The door to the drawing room was open, and she set aside her musings at the sight of Miss Darcy and a middle-aged woman of comfortable mien, who was quickly introduced as Mrs. Annesley, Miss Darcy’s companion.
Elizabeth waited until Mrs. Gregson had taken a seat next to her great-niece before she sat down across from the girl, who was embroidering a handkerchief with light green thread.
“What are you doing, Georgiana?” Mrs. Gregson asked, and the girl said, “I am working on a kerchief for my cousin Rachel’s upcoming marriage.”
“Matlock’s daughter is engaged?” Mrs. Gregson demanded, turning a curious look on Darcy.
“Yes, to Viscount Lanyon,” Darcy said, and then turning to Elizabeth explained, “The Earl of Matlock is my uncle on my mother’s side. He has four children, two sons and two daughters, and my Cousin Rachel is the elder of the daughters and newly engaged.”
She was aware of a sudden stab of disappointment, which was confusing for a few seconds before awareness bloomed.
He was the nephew of an earl. He was so much higher in rank than she was. As much as she esteemed him now, it was impossible that he would ever offer for her.
The conversation had moved on while she cogitated, and when she focused again, she discovered that Mrs. Gregson and Georgiana were now chatting easily about music, with Mrs. Annesley adding the occasional remark.
“Miss Wantage?”
She turned to find that Mr. Darcy was looking at her, a soft smile on his lips
“Yes?”
“I have a seascape in the corner which I think you will like. May I show it to you?”
She was a trifle puzzled but obediently rose to her feet and followed her host over to the painting in question. It was a lovely piece, with blue and green waves topped by whitecaps, with a ship sailing bravely into the distance.
“I wished to speak to you of the wedding of your sister and Mr. Bingley,” he said softly.
Ah, that was why he wanted to move away from his sister, who did not know her true name.
“Oh, please, tell me about it,” she said eagerly. “Did Jane look happy?”
He smiled broadly and nodded. “She was gloriously happy, along with looking incredibly beautiful.”
“I wish I had been able to go,” she said and gulped hard. “Maybe I should have gone.”
Darcy sighed and said, “I think it was safer for you to stay away, Miss Bennet. Your father still appeared angry, and Bingley tells me that he has informed everyone that you are ill with scarlet fever. To me, that sounds as if he still hopes to track you down and force you to marry Mr. Collins.”
Her eyes flared wide, and she said, “My father is telling everyone that…”
“That you are ill, yes, which is why you have not returned from London.”
She felt tears spring to her eyes, and she said, “How could he? I do not understand why he is being so cruel, especially when Jane is now well married!”
“I do not pretend to know your father, but I have been guilty of being prideful and stubborn on occasion. It does not excuse his ruthlessness, of course.”
“No,” she said drearily and looked back at the painting. It spoke of open spaces, of freedom, of…
“Perhaps I should go away to America,” she murmured aloud.
He turned an alarmed look at the painting and shook his head. “Miss Bennet, you cannot … that is, there is no need. I know my aunt is pleased to have you stay as her guest for as long as you like.”
“And I am incredibly grateful, but I cannot stay with her forever.”
“Nor will you need to,” Darcy said. “You will be one and twenty in May, and I am confident that the Bingleys will happily provide you a home for as long as you need.”
She stared at him, and then she nodded her head slowly. “When I am … you are correct, of course. Jane would never turn me away.”
“She would not,” he agreed. “Indeed, if you wish, I can escort you to Netherfield Hall. With the Bingleys’ protection, you might well be safe from your father.”
She frowned at this thoughtfully and then slowly shook her head. “I would not wish to put Charles and Jane in that position. They are newly married and both are rather…”
She trailed off, and Darcy said, “Kindly, gentle people, yes. I think it would be best to wait until your official majority to return home, but it is, of course, your decision.”
“I will wait,” she said. “I am very grateful to you and your family, Mr. Darcy.”
He gazed down on her, his eyes strangely dark, and said, “It is our honor and pleasure, I assure you, Miss Bennet.”