Chapter 13
“They are both lovely,” Elizabeth said truthfully, her eyes on the mare and her daughter who were standing in a shady part of the pasture north of the stables.
“Yes, they are,” Darcy agreed, looking around carefully.
The gentleman and lady were seated on a wooden bench within easy sight of several gardeners who were working on trimming some shrubbery.
There was no one in earshot, but plenty of witnesses to testify that nothing indecent was happening between the master of Pemberley and one of his female guests.
Elizabeth turned to look directly into her companion’s face and said, “Before we begin discussing specifics, Mr. Darcy, I wish to assure you that I will not share so much as a word of what Miss Darcy confided to me to anyone, not even my sister Jane, without your permission.”
Darcy stared back to her, his eyes boring into hers. Miss Bennet’s expression was grave and her dark eyes shone with sincerity.
He relaxed still more and said, “Thank you, Miss Bennet. I confess that I am concerned, and yes, uncomfortable that Georgiana chose to share such private details about her life.”
“In retrospect, I likely should have stopped her from confiding in me,” Elizabeth said contritely, “though I cannot, for personal reasons, regret the information. I know that I am entirely reliable and will not give away any of Miss Darcy’s secrets, and now I know the truth about Mr. Wickham.”
Darcy swallowed hard. “Georgiana told me that you are personally acquainted with him, though she did not provide details. How do you know the gentleman?”
“Well, he is hardly a gentleman, is he, Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth asked, fixing her gaze on the mare, who was now nuzzling her filly’s fuzzy head.
Her own hands clenched in outrage, and she continued, “I met him last November when a militia regiment was stationed in our nearby village of Meryton. He took a commission as a lieutenant, and along with his fellows enjoyed the favor of our rather restricted society of families, and thus we met many times at assemblies and gatherings. I am ashamed to admit that I liked him very much and accepted his description of his previous life without question, including the claim that you deprived him of a church living. I am disgusted with myself, sir. I ought never to have believed such a thing without any sort of proof, and the man was extremely discourteous to slander you to me.”
“Did he say anything about my sister?” Darcy demanded harshly.
Elizabeth turned her beautiful eyes on him and shook her head, “Nothing in particular, no. He did say she was proud and arrogant, but he said the same about you. He did not so much as hint of his attempt to convince Miss Darcy to elope with him, but of course he would not – I would have despised him if he had confessed to such a thing.”
“Would you have?” Darcy asked grimly. “Does it not speak more to the disgraceful character and upbringing of my sister that she would agree, at the tender age of fifteen, to run away to Gretna Greene with a steward’s son?”
Elizabeth’s brows lowered into a reproving glower.
“Mr. Darcy, I must speak honestly. Mr. Wickham is exceedingly handsome, his manners are captivating, and his speech enchanting. Your sister knew him as a child, and at that time, he appeared to be an honorable friend. You sent her to Ramsgate with Mrs. Younge, who was in league with Mr. Wickham, and together they convinced her to elope. I would argue that you, sir, are far more at fault than your sister. Wickham is capable of turning the heads of many women; I am ashamed to say that I was attracted to him myself, though I knew he was too poor to be a proper husband to me. Nor, given my current knowledge of his character, was I of any interest to him except as a source of flirtation, since my dowry is small. No, it is not Miss Darcy’s fault.
She is an unusual young woman who speaks truth and expects others to speak truth in return. ”
Darcy bit his lip and turned his gaze toward the pasture. “You are correct,” he admitted. “I am entirely at fault, and my sister is extraordinary.”
“You worry about her,” Elizabeth said gently.
“I do,” Darcy agreed heavily. “I love her with all my heart, but she does not look on the world as most women do. I fear for her entrance into society and her marrying well. She has such a tender heart…”
He trailed off and turned in some surprise toward Miss Bennet, who was regarding him compassionately.
“I suppose I cannot reprove Georgiana for confiding in you, Miss Bennet,” he said. “You are a very sympathetic listener.”
“Well, I am one of five daughters, and I assure you that I grew up both talking and listening a great deal!” Elizabeth said, rising to her feet and taking a couple of steps toward the fence.
“I see Miss Bingley walking here briskly so we have but little time to speak further. I hope you will continue to allow me the honor of being Miss Darcy’s friend? ”
“You wish to be?” Darcy asked quietly, keeping a wary eye on Miss Bingley, who was now close enough that he could see her smiling face, which was at odds with the jealous look in her eyes.
“Very much. Miss Darcy is a marvelous young lady. Miss Bingley, good morning! I hope you are well?”
“I am very well, Miss Bennet. Mr. Darcy, good morning!”
“Good morning, Miss Bingley,” Darcy said, rising to his feet and bowing slightly.
“It is such a surprise to see you both here this morning, together!” Caroline continued brightly.
“I find horses beautiful,” Elizabeth said truthfully. “Are they not lovely, Miss Bingley?”
Caroline cast a quick glance toward the mare and her filly and nodded.
“Yes, they are charming. Mr. Darcy, Louisa and I were speaking only last night about your folly behind the copse of trees to the north of the lake. I expect Charles will wish to build something similar; please, do tell me, how long has it stood on Pemberley grounds? Is the architect still living, perhaps?”
Darcy tightened his lips but managed to say courteously, “It was built by my grandfather, Miss Bingley, so no, I fear the architect has long passed on.”
“What a pity,” Caroline said, her eyes limpid pools of regret. “Perhaps you know of a present day architect in London?”
“Mr. Darcy, Caroline, I fear I must return to the house,” Elizabeth interposed. “Please excuse me.”
“Good day, Miss Bennet.”
“We will see you at dinner, Elizabeth,” Caroline said in a satisfied tone, taking Darcy’s arm and turning toward the pool, which currently showed fractured reflections of the blue skies and puffy clouds as the wind rippled the surface of the waters.
“Now, I do hope you will be willing to advise Charles regarding a folly like your own.”
Darcy suppressed a huff and glanced at Elizabeth, who bestowed a mischievous look on him before striding rapidly toward the mansion.
The folly in question was designed to look like a small, derelict Roman temple, and he despised it for the pretentious waste of space that it was.
The only reason he had not had it pulled down was that his father, George Darcy, had altered the landscaping considerably during his lifetime such that the folly was no longer visible from the main house.
From his current position, he was able to observe the structure in all its extravagant glory.
It was a ridiculous thing, a true folly, for it had no purpose.
Nonetheless, it was considered a valuable addition to any gentleman’s property to have such a building.
He supposed that was another reason to allow it to stand.
“If Bingley is interested, I can certainly suggest a reliable architect for such a purpose,” he told his companion stiffly, glancing toward the house as Miss Bennet disappeared through the side door. She was such a vigorous, energetic woman, and a very fast walker.
“Wonderful!” Caroline said eagerly. “I suppose it must wait until my brother decides whether to stay in Hertfordshire or not. I do hope that you and I can convince him to move northward, Mr. Darcy. The air here in Derbyshire is far more salubrious than that of the southern counties, not to mention that the landscape is far more interesting.”
Darcy grunted in what could be construed as agreement, or disagreement, depending on one’s point of view, but Miss Bingley, naturally enough, assumed her host was in complete accord with her own wishes.
She continued to prattle on as the twosome made their way along the verge toward the small lake, from there to the main steps, and finally to the front door where Darcy was able to bid his guest a courteous farewell before striding hastily to his office on the score of having business letters to write.
Early this morning, he had walked from the stables with Charles Bingley and found the experience pleasurable.
The short walk with Miss Bingley had felt three times longer and very annoying.
He relished and honored Bingley, but his friend’s younger sister was entirely tedious.
/
“We should go on a picnic,” Georgiana Darcy said suddenly.
Elizabeth was watching Neptune, who had lifted his fan of vibrant, waving feathers and was displaying them for the benefit of a nearby peahen.
The female in question seemed quite disinterested in the display and pecked away at something in the dirt.
An insect, perhaps? A bit of corn? Perhaps a pebble?
Much as Elizabeth admired the peafowl, she did not think them especially intelligent birds.
“I apologize, Miss Darcy, what did you say?” she asked.
“We should go on a picnic,” the girl repeated.
“There is a hunting lodge some three miles from here on Pemberley land, and a well maintained road leads to it. The cottage stands adjacent to a charming lake, which boasts a small waterfall from another pond slightly higher up. The view is remarkable and I have seen kites flying overhead a few times.”