Chapter 24
Stables
Longbourn
Twenty Minutes Later
Though Elizabeth was not a great rider, she did not mind the smell of horses.
It was just as well because she had fled to the stables to escape her mother's ire and sat now in the tack room in the lone chair beside the cluttered table.
Bits of leather, cleaners, awls, and metal sat heaped on the table, although what could be seen of the worn wooden surface was clean.
A lantern sat near the edge of the table, throwing out a warm yellow light.
Elizabeth shivered a little and tucked her gloved hands deeper into her muff.
She was not as warm as she would have been in her own room, but neither was she as cold as she might be.
The stables were warmed by the horses, and Elizabeth had snatched up her warmest woolen pelisse and gloves and fur muff as she stuffed her feet into her boots and hurried outside.
The chill nipping at her exposed nose was far from her mind as dismay filled her troubled soul.
It was inevitable that Lady Bennet would eventually find out about the true ownership of Emerald Island, but Elizabeth had hoped it would be, at least, after she herself had attained her majority.
It was a pity that Sir Thomas had blurted out that tidbit of information so casually, though it was also not terribly surprising.
Tact was not one of her father's preeminent virtues, and given that he was usually distracted by stars and planets and comets, it was doubtful whether he even realized that there were certain subjects on which someone might prefer him to remain quiet.
On the rare occasions that Sir Thomas spent time with his family, he did not concern himself with couching his meaning in comfortable terms more acceptable to his audience, but delivered himself of his thoughts in a plainspoken style which, as often as not, left the other conversationalists wrong-footed.
Elizabeth had become accustomed to smoothing over uncomfortable moments that her father's absentminded bluntness caused, but sometimes discretion was the better part of valor, and tonight had been just such a situation.
The news had obviously hit Lady Bennet like a thunderbolt, and the mistress of Longbourn was openly infuriated that Elizabeth was the legal owner of Emerald Island.
Elizabeth had caught Sally, the young maid, as she was beating her hasty retreat, and instructed her to quietly inform Jane as to where Elizabeth had fled.
That had been hours ago now. Elizabeth had been out of doors ever since dinner, and though she had no clock, the stars had advanced some way in their dance across the sky.
She had not been entirely without company that entire time.
Coachman Jack, the usual resident of the tack room, had willingly shared his haven with the young lady who was mistress in all but name.
He had been in and out all night, quietly bearing news to Miss Lizzy that her ladyship was in a rare taking and with no signs of the storm abating anytime soon.
Glum tidings indeed, and he had just gone out again a few minutes before to find out how the land lay while Elizabeth sat tense and worried inside.
She heard his voice outside the door and sat up. A moment later his gravelly old rumble was joined by a lighter, sweeter voice, and Elizabeth leaped to her feet eagerly.
“Jane,” she said as her elder sister entered the room.
“Lizzy,” Jane replied, pulling her into a quick embrace before stepping back. “Mamma is in her bedchamber finally.”
“I am sorry you had to deal with that,” Elizabeth said apologetically.
“I did not mind, truly, and I had the opportunity to tell her that you are far better suited to manage Emerald Island than any of the rest of us.”
“I cannot suppose she agreed,” Elizabeth said ruefully.
“She did not,” Jane said calmly, “but you know that all of your sisters support you. Now come to bed, Lizzy. Tomorrow is going to be a very busy day, and almost certainly difficult.”
***
Breakfast Parlor
Netherfield Park
The Next Day
4th December, 1811
Nine O’clock in the Morning
The dining parlor was deserted at this early hour, the air heavy and still and redolent with the tempting aromas of breakfast. Darcy picked up a clean plate from the waiting stack and perused the buffet, selecting several slices of cold roast beef, eggs, and two buttered rolls.
He poured himself a cup of coffee and carried his repast to the table.
He had just sat down when the door opened and he hastily stood again as Georgiana entered the room, with Mrs. Annesley hard on her heels and Bingley bringing up the rear behind them.
The sight of his dear sister was a boon to his spirit.
He had not realized how much he had missed her, and he was enormously grateful to Bingley for extending a cheerful invitation to Miss Darcy and her companion.
He should not, he supposed, be surprised that Bingley and Georgiana had come down so early. Bingley had adjusted to country hours some weeks ago, and Georgiana had always favored early mornings over late nights.
“Good morning, Brother!” Georgiana exclaimed upon setting eyes on him.
“Good morning, my dear,” he replied, peering at her carefully, and was well satisfied with what he saw.
No lingering strain or tension saddened her young face; her eyes sparkled with life and joy, and delicate roses already bloomed in her cheeks.
The country had always agreed with her, and the news of Wickham’s ignominious death had not noticeably impaired her serenity.
Her appetite, too, seemed to be flourishing in more salubrious surroundings, and she filled her plate before joining her brother at the table.
Mrs. Annesley came behind her, with more modest portions, and Bingley, waiting courteously for the ladies to fill their plates ahead of him, stepped up to the depleted buffet. Darcy pulled out chairs for his sister and her companion before reclaiming his own.
“I hope you slept well?” he asked, taking a sip of dark and very hot coffee.
“I did,” Georgiana said and glanced out the window at the countryside. “I always sleep better in the country. The air is fresher, and I enjoy the sounds of roosters crowing. How about you, Mrs. Annesley?”
“Oh, I slept well also, Miss Darcy,” the lady replied and then turned to their host. “Mr. Bingley, you have a very pleasant home.”
“Thank you,” Bingley said with his genial grin. “I am quite pleased with it, especially as I did not bother to consult Darcy before leasing the estate, nor did I really ask enough questions about the land and people.”
“You chose well,” Darcy said.
“Thank you. Now, Miss Darcy, might I inquire as to what you would like to do here in Hertfordshire? I know you enjoy riding, and Caroline has a gentle mare she would be pleased to lend to you.”
“I would enjoy that,” Georgiana said, “but to be entirely truthful, I would like to call on the Bennets as soon as possible.”
“Oh!” Bingley said and smiled. “Darcy has told you about them?”
“A little, anyway. It must be interesting to meet an astronomer!”
“It is,” Bingley answered, “though I warn you that Sir Thomas is not particularly garrulous. I daresay he is often thinking about stars or comets or something of the sort. But the Bennet ladies are charming, and I would certainly relish calling on them today. Does that sound reasonable?”
“If my brother thinks that it is appropriate, I would like that very much,” Georgiana replied, looking hopefully at Darcy.
The master of Pemberley could not help the sudden increase in his heart rate. A visit to Longbourn meant he would probably see Elizabeth Bennet again, and he had missed her…
He took a sip of coffee and said in his calmest voice, “Yes, I would enjoy that very much.”
***
Dining Parlor
Longbourn
Lady Bennet bustled into her dining parlor, anticipating empty platters and dregs in the coffeepot.
It would be just like her family to think that she deserved to eat only their leavings in punishment for rising late.
Not that ten o’clock was all that late, but she usually rose by nine.
To her surprise, however, plenty of breakfast awaited her, the platters still half full of ham and bacon and muffins.
Lady Bennet filled her plate, feeling both petulant and relieved.
She had passed a sadly indifferent night, grieved and outraged by her husband’s and second daughter’s conspiracy, but the unwelcome dawn had brought with it a reluctant resignation.
Unfair though Sir Thomas’s decision unarguably was, it was too late, and there was nothing his poor wife could do about it.
Even Jane, whom she had expected to be unhappy about her father’s decision, had instead stood in support of Sir Thomas’s choice.
While as for Mary, her head had been filled with the heavens from her earliest childhood, just like her father’s, and she doubtless thought the transfer of ownership to Lizzy a good one as well.
As for Elizabeth, well, she likely believed that the island was her due.
Just because Lizzy had been looking over the books for a few years and directing the steward, she seemed to think she bore a great workload and responsibility on her shoulders.
Doubtless she had considered herself the rightful mistress of the family island for years now, and the official paperwork to be a mere formality instead of a great and undeserved honor.
Lady Bennet longed to give her scheming, disloyal second daughter a piece of her mind, but pragmatism warned that such a course of action would do more harm than good.
Elizabeth had always been strong willed and without the natural reverence of a child for her parents.
Considering that she still held the estate’s purse strings due to the absentminded blessing of her father, it would not do to alienate her completely.
A welcome interruption broke the train of these gloomy thoughts as the door opened once again, and their guest walked in, his plump face solemn.
“Oh, Mr. Collins!” Lady Bennet cried out, producing a welcoming smile. “Good morning. I do … that is, I hope you slept well?”
Mr. Collins looked at the buffet, and his eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. “I did, Lady Bennet. My, what an excellent spread of food you have. I must congratulate you.”
Here was another person whom it would behoove her to stay on good terms with, and in any case, Lady Bennet always appreciated compliments on her table.
“Thank you, sir, thank you,” she said, and gestured hospitably. “Please do collect some food. Our eggs are the freshest in all of England, and our ham is truly excellent.”
Mr. Collins obeyed with alacrity, and within a few minutes, had seated himself at the table with a very full plate.
Lady Bennet collected two biscuits and a cup of tea and sat down near her guest. She generally did not eat a great deal in the morning anyway, and she still felt slightly ill from her disturbed and distressed night.
For a full ten minutes, the pair ate in silence, but when Mr. Collins had cleared his plate, he took a last sip of coffee and turned a portentous look on his hostess.
“Lady Bennet?”
“Yes, Mr. Collins?”