Chapter 19 Bartlet’s Folly
Darcy and Longman entered the bookstore to see Mr Bartlet guiding two carters carrying boxes of books towards the back. They waited patiently for him to finish, and once the men set the boxes down and left, Bartlet turned to them with a bow.
“Mr Darcy, welcome back. I have been expecting you.”
“Good day, Mr Bartlet.”
Longman and Bartlet just nodded to each other.
Bartlet walked over and turned the sign around, then locked the door. “Tea?”
They walked to the back of the shop, where a tea set was already prepared, as a young clerk brought out hot water. It took a few minutes to set out the tea, and the men chatted about goings on in the town until the assistant left.
Bartlet finally said, “I suppose you are looking for information about your wife?”
Darcy felt the need to tread carefully. Here he had one of the few men who had been kind to his wife with nothing to gain. Mrs Darcy’s pin money could not possibly have made any difference to Bartlet, who only still worked because he loved the customers, even if she spent every farthing on books.
He carefully said, “I, of course, would never dream of asking you to break a confidence, but anything you could tell me would be greatly appreciated.”
Bartlet nodded. “She never asked me to keep anything in confidence. In most ways, she was one of the most open and engaging young women I have ever known. She was a voracious reader, and an intelligent one. Did you know that?”
Darcy felt uncomfortable but knew he needed to get accustomed to the feeling. “She spent four days in a house where I was a guest. She liked to engage in discussions, and I found that if you came to the arena with a weak argument, you did so at your peril.”
Longman and Bartlet chuckled, and Bartlet quipped, “That, I believe.”
Bartlet said, “I should preface what I will tell you by saying I have no idea where your wife went. She did not say where she was going, and I did not ask. I cannot even give you a clue. She never, to my knowledge, really discussed anything about her life with anyone, at least in this shop. It was all about the books.”
Darcy thought that did indeed sound unlikely.
He remembered Elizabeth as being quite a social creature when he was stalking her in Meryton, but who knew what she would be in Derbyshire?
If she were trying to succeed in her marriage, she certainly would not spend her time gossiping about it, but he assumed she needed some social contact outside of Pemberley like she needed air.
No matter how one regarded it, every single person surrounding the estate might depend on her goodwill sooner or later, so everyone would have to be careful around her.
It made perfect sense that she would try to break out of her shell.
Darcy brought his attention back and whispered, “Anything you can tell me would be appreciated.”
Bartlet took out a tinderbox, laboriously sparked a flame and lit his pipe, finally saying, “I suppose she will not mind me telling you that I did not meet her as Mrs Darcy. I first met her as Miss Bennet.”
Darcy started and abruptly sat upright in his chair. Bartlet was well known as a homebody who only occasionally went to London to buy and sell books but otherwise preferred to stick to the comforts of home. His chances of meeting her in London were slim.
“Where did you meet her, if you do not mind my asking?”
“Right in this shop. She sat in that chair you occupy right now, and I gave her a cup of tea. She apologised that she could not afford to buy anything, and I opined that she was quite welcome anyway. She warmed up a bit, purchased paper, borrowed a pen, and wrote a letter.”
He looked at Darcy pensively. “She asked me as a great favour to hold it for three days, then post it, which I did.”
Darcy’s head was spinning violently enough to make him feel almost as bad as his typhus days, so he asked in panic, “When was this? Did you notice the direction? What was her condition? Where was she going?” all while his heart started racing and his head started pounding.
Bartlet reached out a steadying hand and gripped Darcy’s arm. “Calm yourself, young man. All will be revealed. Take a deep breath and eat a slice of this bread, or I can bring you some brandy.”
As tempting as the brandy sounded, Darcy followed the bookseller’s advice regarding the bread and tea and got himself back under regulation.
Bartlet judged the man ready to listen again—just barely.
“It was on the fifth of December, two hours short of closing. She was very polite, our Miss Bennet. It would have been a breach of privacy to look at the direction, so I laid it face down for three days as she asked, then posted it. Before that, I walked her back to the coaching inn and bid her adieu. That was the last I saw of her, until she came in to introduce herself as Mrs Darcy a few weeks later. I would ask that the first meeting be between the three of us. Nobody in Derbyshire but her maid knows about it, or maybe the innkeeper.”
Darcy thought that sounded like a good clue. “Molly Hatcher?”
“Yes. She was raised a few miles south of Lambton. Her father passed some years ago, and her mother just in November. She has four brothers, but they all left to join the army or navy some years ago.”
“Have you any idea what she was doing in Lambton, of all places?”
Bartlet looked at the man for some time, and Darcy finally ducked his head in shame.
“She was running?”
“Yes, I believe so—apparently unsuccessfully.”
Darcy once again felt pains in his chest, but a deep breath cleansed the sensations.
“I had no idea she found the whole idea so distasteful.”
“Did you ask her?” Bartlet said, not quite able to keep a hard edge out of his voice, which his companions noticed, but neither remarked on.
“Much to my shame, I did not.”
Bartlet sat back for quite some time, looking at Darcy.
They had known each other for many years, but distantly.
Darcy bought books and talked about what was available, but for both men, much like Mrs Darcy, it was all about the books.
There was no need for idle chatter, or discussions of this or that, when the whole world of the written word was laid out for their entertainment.
At some length, Bartlet asked, “What will you do if you find Mrs Darcy?”
Everyone knew it was not an idle question, and the answer would determine how much the ageing bookseller happened to recall.
“I will do my best to earn her respect and her trust, maybe even her love someday.”
Bartlet could not help snuffling a bit. “A tall order, young man.”
Darcy momentarily lost his temper, and snapped, “What should I do? Give up? Move on? Find another? Force her acquiescence?”
Breathing hard again, he did not notice he was balling his fists, but his companions did.
Longman said, “I suspect Bartlet is going to tell you your passion for the task is admirable, but you may need to work on your—”
He could not think of the right word, but Bartlet helpfully provided, “Subtlety?”
Longman laughed. “Yes, that one. That is why I keep you around, Bartlet, so I do not have to learn so many hard words.”
The two men chuckled, which had the intended effect of calming Darcy.
Darcy said, “I would beg on my knees if I thought it would help.”
“Hurt, more likely. I do not think your wife has much affection for weakness.”
“Understood, but you get my meaning.”
Bartlet paused a moment and forced Darcy to endure an agonising further two minutes while he got his pipe going again. “You will respect her if you ever find her? Treat her kindly? Let her make her own choices?”
“Of course!” Darcy exclaimed, but then looked abashed when Bartlet stared him down, and finally said sheepishly, “I suppose with my past behaviour to her, there is no ‘of course’ about anything. I give you my word, and I will give her my word, that I will be the consummate gentleman, and if she finds me lacking, I will release her—somehow.”
Longman asked, “How can that be done?”
“I have no idea, but I am a wealthy man. I have resources, and I will dedicate whatever it costs to make up for my mistakes.”
Bartlet said, “Be careful not to overdo it. A marriage is a partnership. You must approach her with the proper amount of humility, which is somewhere between crawling on hands and knees and asserting your lawful rights. You will need to find the right spot on the continuum, though if I were you, I would err on the side of hands and knees.”
“It will all be academic if I cannot find her.”
Bartlet nodded. “Well then, there are two things you should know.”
“Go on.”
“Based on the coaching schedules, I believe she was headed to Manchester in December. Perhaps beyond, but that town has all the mills and more trade than you can shake a stick at. A woman of some sense could do well there, assuming she is ready to forego the privileges of her station.”
“She obviously considered that an improvement over marrying me, so I will assume that was her plan, unless she had some relatives or friends to help her.”
“All are possible. I cannot say more. She never mentioned anyone close enough to do that. She has an uncle in town who is apparently a very successful tradesman. I always thought she might go to him if she got desperate, but I suspect she would worry about his reputation, as he routinely does business with the upper gentry. Of course, that is all supposition. She only mentioned him in passing once or twice. Of course, there is her family, but she never mentioned them, even in passing, even once.”
“Do you know the uncle’s name?”
“No, I assume you would have to get it from her father or hire someone in London to track him down.”
Darcy grimaced, but there had never been any doubt he would have to meet the Bennets again, and that meeting was bound to be even worse than the last one.
“I thank you. It seems likely that, since she was here on the fifth, but returned to marry on the twenty-third, she either had a change of heart, or she was brought back by force.”