Chapter 11
Eleven
The three carriages, including one for luggage and servants, travelled close to one another, with armed guards again leading, following, and flanking the carriages.
Darcy rode Orion while still on his own land and during the first five miles south of the estate; he kept a sharp eye on the surroundings.
He did not like to change travel plans as rapidly as they had that day, and the duke’s possible actions remained unknowable; so remaining alert to anything was the best plan.
Of course, Darcy was well known in all of Derbyshire, especially in the area close to Pemberley; and his carriages had the easily identifiable Darcy crest. He was used to having people make way for his carriages and demonstrate respect as he passed, but he had never before seen so much regard demonstrated as he did that day.
Every person ceased work, doffed their hat, and lowered their head—even those working in fields far from the road.
Was this unusual level of respect something to do with whatever had caused the duke to complain about “Saint Darcy”?
Darcy tipped his hat and smiled in response to each and every person he saw.
If his recent actions truly were inspiring wider or deeper regard for himself, even among strangers, it would be thanks to Elizabeth, because certainly the simulacrum he had watched before she had resurrected him could not have caused such devotion!
He wondered, if he was better known and regarded now, would there be a way of channeling those positive feelings in order to help northern Derbyshire generally? Could he use his newfound popularity to garner support for the founding of the companies and school that he had considered?
When there was a change of horses, Darcy joined Elizabeth and the Gardiners in their carriage, and the first words out of Elizabeth’s mouth were, “I was very impressed with how far your influence reaches, sir. I have never witnessed a royal procession, but I cannot imagine anyone other than the prince gaining as much notice as I have seen today.”
“It has never been that way before now. Perhaps word has spread that I am engaged, and people want to catch sight of you?”
“And so they bow their heads and look down?” She laughed at his suggestion.
As often happened, her pleasing laugh called forth his own chuckle. He shook his head ruefully. “I do not know what else could have caused this. I have thought about ways I might help the people in the area, but I have barely begun to take action on my plans.”
Mrs Gardiner suggested, “Perhaps it is news of your intentions that has spread? Or news that the duke views you as an enemy? Perhaps your investigators’ newest reports will include rumours that have explanatory power.”
At the next change of horses, Darcy joined Georgiana and Mrs Annesley.
His sister did not comment on the display of respect until they were less than a mile from Melbourne; then nobody could miss the unique situation.
People must have come in from the fields or out from their houses, since men, women, and children lined both sides of the road leading to the Crown, the inn to which Darcy had sent an express rider in order to engage enough rooms to put up the entire party.
Georgiana’s eyes could not have been wider as she witnessed the men bow and remove their hats as they passed, and the women curtsey. “Do they have our carriage confused with someone grander, Brother?” she asked.
“I imagine not; however, I am wondering why our sudden change of plans has been anticipated!”
“It feels both positive and also worrisome, to be honest,” Mrs Annesley opined.
“I doubt that there is any reason for anxiety, madam. I hope you can rest assured that you are safe.”
“Thank you, sir.”
The bustle of unloading occupied the servants, and the other travellers were shown to their rooms; however, Darcy asked for any messages that had arrived.
There were two. The first was a very reassuring note that informed him that the Duke of Lymebourne had left Pemberley lands promptly—with no needed intervention—and that he had made directly for Lymeston Hall.
The second was a message from Lodge, by way of Morris.
It outlined the gossip that had spread about the duke, Darcy, and Elizabeth.
The gossip sounded like a story from a novel, with a foolish but evil antagonist and two brave and clever heroes.
Those characterisations were overly simplified and exaggerated, but the plot points stuck to what he knew to be true: the duke’s attempt to destroy a village for his own petty reasons, and the hero’s attempts to safeguard the lives of the victims of the duke’s scheming; the duke’s threat of kidnapping the heroine, and his minion’s actual kidnapping of someone in the hero’s employ; the duke’s determination to meddle with the heroine, and her successful battle against him with both actions and words.
Apparently news spread quickly. According to Lodge, most folks in Lambton already knew that the soon-to-be mistress of Pemberley had managed to free herself from the duke—and had given him a verbal set down to boot!
Darcy felt a great deal of pride in his intended—as always!—but worry shivered his spine. What would the duke do now?
In the next few days, Darcy’s and Gardiner’s carriages reached areas farther away from Pemberley, and people no longer took notice of them.
Travelling through Nottinghamshire and Leicestershire was marred by summer showers, but the rain was never heavy, and the roads dried quickly.
Next came Northamptonshire and Bedfordshire; the travellers became progressively warmer with the sun beaming down all day long, not a cloud in sight.
Finally, they arrived in Hertfordshire, and they turned off the main road for Meryton and Longbourn.
Darcy still hoped to see Bingley either at Longbourn or Netherfield Park; and indeed, as they pulled into Longbourn’s gravel drive, Darcy saw Bingley’s familiar dark green carriage.
Whether or not Bingley had forgiven him, he did not know; whether or not he and Georgiana would be welcome to sleep at Bingley’s estate, he had no idea, but he hoped that his mistaken advice to Bingley was on its way to being rectified.
Elizabeth’s sisters had apparently heard the carriages, and they began to pour outside even before the conveyances stopped, followed by Bingley and Mr and Mrs Bennet.
Elizabeth herself was as eager to greet them and did not wait for the step to be lowered.
Before long Miss Bennet and Elizabeth were hugging; Bingley was pumping Darcy’s hand and telling him that he and Miss Bennet were engaged; and Miss Mary was hugging both the Gardiners at once.
The Misses Kitty and Lydia were like whirlwinds attempting to hug and speak with everyone in rapid succession.
Mr and Mrs Bennet remained near the door, placidly waiting their turn to greet their daughter and relations.
Last out the front door were four children he suspected were Gardiners; the children proved him right by calling out to their papa and mama as they flung themselves at their parents.
Elizabeth informally introduced Georgiana and before long herded everyone inside so that proper greetings and introductions could be made.
Darcy felt that the stares directed to him were questioning more than welcoming, but he knew that Elizabeth had not informed any of them of his disastrous proposal at Hunsford, and Gardiner’s express informing them of the date of their return had only mentioned the Darcys’ plans to come to the area, without a word of explanation as to the reason.
By previous arrangement, once Elizabeth had ensured that Georgiana was ensconced between Miss Bennet and Miss Mary, she asked her father for a few minutes of private conversation and then beckoned for her uncle to attend as well.
They came back to the group quickly, as expected, and indicated to Darcy that he should meet with Mr Bennet as planned—but the expression on Elizabeth’s face was a surprise.
Rather than looking pleased or confident, she seemed anxious.
Darcy hesitated, wanting to confer with her, but she just whispered, “Go speak with my father.”
Darcy’s stomach flipped once—would Elizabeth’s father withhold his permission?
—and he realised that he had not yet eradicated all of his undue pride, because he felt frankly astonished at the idea of any father in England denying his request for his daughter’s hand!
But he squared his shoulders and told himself, No matter what, now that Elizabeth will have me, nobody and nothing shall stand in my way.
After entering, he closed the door of Mr Bennet’s study; he looked around the relatively small, cluttered room.
The books exceeded the shelf space, and there were stacks of books on several tables and even, in one corner, on the floor.
He turned to Elizabeth’s father with a bow and tentatively said, “It is a pleasure to see you again, sir.”
“Mr Darcy.” Mr Bennet remained seated at his desk, which was piled with books, two ledgers, and untidy stacks of letters. He nodded and said, “Please, take a seat.”
“Sir, I would like to ask for your permission and blessing for Miss Elizabeth’s hand in marriage. I have long loved her, and I can well provide for her.”
Darcy considered speaking further, but he noticed Mr Bennet’s uncomfortable shift in his chair.
Darcy hesitated, and Elizabeth’s father began to speak—and his words could not have been more unexpected: “I have had a letter from none other than the Duke of Lymebourne, and he writes that I might wish to prevent my daughter from aligning herself with you, given the fact that you may soon find yourself in disfavour with the Prince himself!”
Darcy’s eyes widened. “I gather that Miss Elizabeth and Mr Gardiner did not relate to you our dealings with the duke? They would not have had time….”