Chapter 17 Winter Storms
by D. C. Williams
Gracechurch Street, Cheapside, London
Elizabeth Bennet awoke to the grey light of morning. She dressed, struggling to cast aside disturbing dreams and near memories that only added to the turmoil of her emotions.
As the household stirred, she opened her journal and collected her thoughts.
Gracechurch Street, London
I last wrote of my mother’s startling directive that I should remove to my uncle’s home in London to “find my future life” after the Netherfield party decamped for Town, and I refused the addresses of Mr Collins, Father’s heir. She swore she would never speak to me again.
Elizabeth tapped the quill on the blotter, recalling how many days it had been since she had the opportunity to record the unexpected events.
At the ball, I had a brief conversation with Mr Darcy regarding the character of one Lieutenant Wickham—I was such a fool! I attempted to tell Father, but he would not listen, so I left the news in the capable hands of Mrs Hill, who will share it with my mother. Gossip, thy name is Frances Bennet!
The carriage arrived early, and it was a good thing, for a winter storm caught us on the road.
Uncle’s coachman even remarked that he did not remember having snow so early in years past. We made it to Gracechurch Street while it was still possible to see the house numbers.
The bricks at my feet had long since gone cold, as the snow kept the pace slower than usual.
Shivering, I considered that this storm seemed calm after recent events at Longbourn!
Aunt and Uncle welcomed me home. My aunt rushed me to the fire and wrapped a warm blanket around me.
We had often discussed a future in which I would live with them but had not expected it to be so precipitous! We decided to defer making plans until after Twelfth Night. Until then, Aunt and I will address the shortfalls in my wardrobe and prepare the house and children for Christmastide.
It is well that there are no serious concerns, for I remain conflicted about a certain gentleman from Derbyshire…
and I have in my possession a letter of import to his sister.
I will not believe that Mr Darcy would allow his very young sister to be courted by Mr Bingley—no matter what Caroline Bingley had written to Jane!
The Gardiner residence provided a comfortable routine, and Elizabeth resumed her habit of walking out, alternating Hyde Park and the Royal Gardens at Kew with Green Park.
Where she walked was due largely to the weather and the availability of the Gardiner carriage; her uncle frowned upon her use of hackney cabs.
As the Gardiner family would forego travelling to Longbourn for Christmas this year, Elizabeth anticipated the bustle of the capital. The crisp, clear air fairly called her to take her exercise in Hyde Park before the crowds overtook the pathways.
Elizabeth thought she looked particularly well in a new dark green bonnet with rich brown trim that complemented her light brown wool redingote and fur-lined wool muff. The winter-bare trees and shrubs through which they strolled stood out starkly against the patches of snow.
Her aunt had sent her out with a maid and a footman.
They had walked a full circuit of the park, and Elizabeth’s toes and nose felt the chill.
She stepped off the path under the branches of an immense yew tree to tighten the strap on her boot when she heard the unmistakable whine of Caroline Bingley.
She gestured to her escorts to be silent and they stepped off the path into the bushes.
“Hurry, Louisa! They will be coming past at any moment. We do not want to miss them!”
Mrs Hurst’s indistinct grumble followed.
“Why in the world would you expect Mr and Miss Darcy to be out at this ungodly hour, Caroline. Decent people are still abed… Where I should be without your scheming.”
Elizabeth saw fashionable boots peeking under the hems of woollen coats, just yards away at the intersecting path, out of sight from anyone approaching unaware.
She eased slowly to her full height, attempting to keep from the notice of the two women.
The low rumble of a man’s voice, interspersed with the occasional giggle of a young lady, preceded the appearance of the very prey Miss Bingley stalked.
Stepping closer to the ornamental shrubbery, Elizabeth held her breath, one hand firmly on her mouth to hold in her mirth at the scene.
“Now, Louisa, hold my arm and look surprised,” murmured Miss Bingley before the two turned onto the path, looking at each other as though absorbed in conversation.
Elizabeth knew the instant Mr Darcy realised he had been ensnared. Then Elizabeth recognised her own dilemma of discovery. Oh, that she had rushed away as soon as she heard Caroline Bingley!
Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst stopped abruptly, facing Mr Darcy and a warmly dressed young lady in a lovely blue bonnet, and barely three yards from Elizabeth. Caroline exclaimed as if in surprise, “Why, it is Mr Darcy! Dear Georgiana!” in a breathless, overly sweet tone.
Elizabeth looked on in fearful fascination as Mr and Miss Darcy greeted the ladies. She prayed her clothes blended into the sparse foliage, aware that if she could see Mr Darcy over Miss Bingley’s shoulder, he could most likely see her.
Miss Bingley’s nonsensical words diverted Elizabeth, as the lady gushed over Miss Darcy, all the while casting sidelong glances at Mr Darcy as if to be certain he appreciated her efforts.
Poor girl. Miss Darcy was pink with embarrassment, her eyes darting back and forth as she twisted her gloved hands.
“Mr Darcy,” said Miss Bingley. “One of my acquaintances mentioned meeting a Miss Bennet at the museum this past week. Do you suppose it is Miss Bennet from Hertfordshire? I could learn nothing more as Charles joined me, and I was compelled to excuse us for, of course, I could not risk Charles’s sensibilities.
To think that that brazen woman would have the temerity to follow us to Town!
” Miss Bingley’s tone sharpened. “Have you heard anything, Mr Darcy?”
Elizabeth resisted a surge of anger as she noticed Mrs Hurst take Miss Darcy’s arm, drawing her away from her brother, speaking animatedly about the winter foliage.
Mr Darcy’s reply sounded snappish. “I have not the pleasure of understanding you, madam.”
Miss Bingley’s colour rising, she persisted in a cloying manner, “You take such prodigious care of our poor besotted brother. I am sure you understand that it would not be in his interest to encounter Miss Bennet at this time. He remains much under her power.”
The gentleman stared coldly at Miss Bingley. Elizabeth could almost see storm clouds forming about him.
Miss Bingley stepped a bit closer, now reaching a hand towards Mr Darcy. “Surely, I—we—can count on you, sir, to help keep Charles from a disastrous mis-step! You were so helpful in persuading him to leave Miss Bennet in the wilds of Hertfordshire, where she belongs…”
Mr Darcy abruptly stepped aside to avoid her touch.
“You have mistaken me entirely, Miss Bingley. I do not ‘persuade’ my friends. You coerced Bingley to your bidding. You, madam, have never hidden your desire for your brother to wed to advance your ambitions.” Mr Darcy looked to his sister with Mrs Hurst, and Elizabeth saw Miss Bingley’s face redden further.
“My friend asked if I believed Miss Bennet felt any regard for him. I spoke with all honesty that I did not know the lady’s heart and merely advised him to examine his feelings before proceeding.”
Miss Bingley burst forth, “That does not negate the facts, sir. You would not inform my brother that Miss Bennet has chased him to Town?”
“Has Miss Bennet written to you, sent her card, or called upon you in the time she has been in Town?”
Miss Bingley looked away, avoiding his eyes.
Elizabeth could see the disdain in her expression.
“Then how can you possibly accuse a gentlewoman of impeccable character of vulgarly chasing your brother?”
Though Mr Darcy had not raised his voice, Elizabeth could see that the lady’s persistence vexed the man.
Mrs Hurst must have realised that the tête-à-tête was unravelling her sister’s aspirations and returned Miss Darcy to her brother.
“Dear Caroline. My apologies, Mr Darcy, but we have completely lost track of the time. Sister, if we do not depart immediately, we shall be late for our appointment at the dressmaker. You know how fastidious Madame is about her schedule.”
Elizabeth waited as Mrs Hurst nudged Miss Bingley, who curtseyed reluctantly and hurried away, their voices fading with distance. As she turned, she looked directly into the startled eyes of Mr Darcy!
Mr Darcy blinked…and blinked again.
Caught. From the shadow of the tall yew, she was nearly imperceptible against the winter foliage—except to Mr Darcy. Elizabeth shook her head, embarrassed to be caught eavesdropping, one gloved finger to her lips.
His eyes widened. Thankfully, his expression gave no indication of offence, and Mr Darcy asked his sister, “Are you well, dearest? Please forgive me for leaving you to the tender mercies of Mrs Hurst. I regret the intrusion of her and her sister upon our time together. But might I persuade you to endure the cold a bit longer? I would like to introduce you to an acquaintance of mine.” He looked over her shoulder at Elizabeth.
“If you like,” Miss Darcy said hesitantly.
“It would please me very much. She is a kind young lady with sisters near your age.” He tucked her hand in his arm and led her the few steps to Elizabeth.
Elizabeth stood completely still, struck by the inevitable introduction.
Mr Darcy wanted his sister, his young, impressionable sister, to meet Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn!
Then she grinned wryly. I suppose, as Miss Darcy is acquainted with Mr Bingley’s sisters, Mr Darcy is far from exclusive!