Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Someone’s high-handed manner sent her to Woodcote, and now someone else’s high-handed manner was removing her from it.
Though she was indisputably happier having come here, for it united her with Darcy, there was nothing about this escapade that pleased her.
Darcy had announced their engagement, announced they were leaving in the morning, and she had not even read the letter from her father.
There was no point in reading it now, for at any moment her peace would be destroyed.
Besides, Darcy had decreed she would leave with him in the morning regardless of her inclination or her father’s.
She may little like it, but she had best start packing before she was interrupted.
She had only lifted her trunk lid when her door was thrown open without so much as a knock.
“You absolute whore,” cried Julia, slamming the door behind her. She looked hot and disconcerted, her face reddened with anger.
Elizabeth bit back an epithet of her own to throw at Julia. “That is a vile thing to say to a fellow woman.”
“What sort of vulgar arts did you perform to get Mr Darcy to propose to you?”
“Is that not what you intended to do?” she asked mildly, turning her back to resume her packing.
“I would have gained his attentions if I had the chance! And I would have performed them better than you.”
“You have formed very high and presumptuous ideas of your own powers over Mr Darcy,” said Elizabeth with a disdainful smile, “but my knowledge and experience prove more useful than your theories.”
“And now he flies to you, worships you, will marry you?” Julia sneered.
“When the gratification of whatever you did to him has worn off, he will renege. He will remember what he owes to his rank, and throw you off. And I will be there waiting, and with better than whatever you offered him behind that door.”
As irritated as she was with Darcy’s arrogance in announcing their engagement after she had asked him not to, she was confident in his affections. “I promise you, us being behind that door had nothing at all to do with Darcy wanting to marry me.”
“Of course you would say that. Only by a clandestine manner could you secure a man like him.”
“He told me that was what you attempted,” she said, spinning round. “You offered to give him anything he wanted for an evening. But you failed to kindle any flame in his heart.”
“You stupid whore!” Julia cried. “You cannot think he is over head and ears in love with you because you unbuttoned his—”
“All your advantages of fortune and birth are nothing,” she interrupted, going back to her packing.
“Whatever Darcy thinks of me, he will not marry you. Your existence is nothing to him. And you do not even have any affection for him. You don’t want to listen to him, to learn of him, to love him. He is just a means to an end for you.”
Julia screeched, and Elizabeth lifted her eyes. Not even Lydia or Kitty would be so ill-tempered in the face of disappointment.
“I could still have him,” she cried. “He is by no means irreparably bound to you until you leave the church door.”
Elizabeth spun round to fire back, but her retort fell from her lips.
One could not tell by looking if Julia was pregnant, for she was a tall and full-figured woman.
The possibility of it pulled on her sympathy.
Whoever the father was would bear no blame, but Julia’s life would be over if she had a child but no husband.
“Miss Metcalfe, why is it urgent you marry Mr Darcy, and marry him now? It cannot be because you have pretty, younger sisters about to come out.”
She smiled in scorn. “You could not understand. Well, you did spend an afternoon in a locked space with a man, so perhaps you can.”
It was not proof, but her suspicions were further raised. Before she could ask, her door opened again and Lady Metcalfe entered. What was the point of having a door if everyone entered whenever they pleased?
“So, you have induced a weak man into matrimony,” she said in an icy voice. “Lady Catherine will be incensed.”
“A weak man?” she repeated. It burned how neither woman appreciated Darcy yet were dying for Julia to have him. “That shows how little you know him.”
“You only know whatever your solicitations won you today,” said Lady Metcalfe. Her spitefulness rivalled her daughter’s. “How fortunate for you that he offered to marry you for it.”
“I consider myself fortunate not because I will have his name and his protection, his money, or his house. I am bestowing myself upon one who is in every respect worthy of my warmest admiration, esteem, and affection,” she cried, turning to Julia.
The idea that she had been with Mr Travers hours after trying to seduce Darcy baffled her.
“Why not resolve on Mr Travers? You know him just as well as you know Mr Darcy.”
“Absolutely not,” muttered Lady Metcalfe. Julia only made a disgusted face.
Elizabeth gave up. She was sick of the lot of them and returned to her packing. She had wanted to act with kind-hearted civility toward them both, but it was no longer possible.
“Do not turn your back on me, Miss Bennet,” demanded Lady Metcalfe. “I did not bring you here to find you a husband at the expense of my daughter’s future happiness.”
“I did not disappoint her on purpose,” she cried, “and Mr Darcy is not your possession to dispose of how you see fit. Miss Metcalfe knows that he has a mind of his own. She could not sway him.”
“I would have,” Julia interjected, “if I had such an opportunity as you had today!”
Elizabeth was furious enough to ask, “Did you have anything to do with that opportunity? Did you want me out of the way to work on Darcy? Flirt with him at the races? Spend all evening by his side in the drawing room making him forget me? As though he would not inquire after me the entire day, not demand everyone look for me when I was not in my room. Did you think pretending I was in bed resting would be enough to convince him to spend the night with you, too? How long would you have left me there? And how unlucky for you that he was on the stairs when you blocked the door.”
Julia did not deny it, and rage on her face made Elizabeth wonder if she would raise a hand to her. Instead, she let out another screech and stormed off, with her mother close on her heels. Elizabeth fell onto the bed, weary of everything, sore from yesterday and from sitting on the floor today.
As much as she had not wanted to leave under a cloud of gossip, or have Darcy announce their engagement and expose her further to Julia’s fury, she would be glad to get away from Woodcote Park.
Darcy glared at Mr Travers as he arranged the billiard table.
The man must have helped his lover trap him and Elizabeth.
Had he made Elizabeth fall from the carriage because Julia asked him?
Nothing made sense, and he could not accuse anyone without proof.
Unless he was secure, had no doubt at all, he had to continue to be courteous—and it galled him.
“May you and your bride live many years to enjoy that genuine felicity attendant on the conjugal state,” Henry said prettily. Darcy inclined his head in thanks, eager for this all to be over so he could make certain Elizabeth would actually leave with him in the morning.
“That felicity happens when marriage is entered upon from proper motives,” added Sir John as he raised his glass. “It must have been a charming afternoon, but is Miss Bennet’s company enough to stake your future life on?”
Darcy ground his teeth. Some good-natured teasing from other men was to be expected in these cases, but hearing Elizabeth spoken of in such terms made him more eager to leave Woodcote. “I would have married her months ago,” he said. “Being trapped together did not influence or hasten me.”
Sir John made a disbelieving sound. “What happened against that staircase? Or, judging by the dust on Miss Bennet, perhaps against the wall?”
Henry looked aghast and Mr Travers said nothing, and Darcy wondered if Elizabeth would be any angrier with him if she heard he struck Sir John in the face. “Sir, do you have any proper feelings of delicacy and propriety? Have a due regard for the character and reputation of my future wife.”
He raised his hands in mock surrender. “The bridegroom has spoken, men.” To Henry, he said, “Do not rush to marry, and be sure to sow your wild oats before you do.”
“Have you not done enough of that this week with every prostitute down from London?” Darcy asked.
“There is still tomorrow,” he said, grinning. “And, not to worry, I enjoy them in armour, so, Tessier, take note and be equally cautious.”
Henry looked like he wished for the floor to open up and consume him, but he nodded and took his shot, missing wide.
“Not that I object to the institution,” Sir John went on.
“I must resign myself and marry, and find a fortune in the bargain. I am now thirty, and that seems a good age to settle into domestic life, so Tessier has some time yet.” He took his shot and prattled on.
“Now, Mr Travers, I do not comprehend why you are single. Forty has come and gone, so why remain a bachelor?”
Mr Travers shrugged as Sir John missed, and he stepped to the table to take his turn. He seldom spoke if the subject was not horses, and never upon occasions where a reply was expected.
“Come now, Travers,” pressed Sir John, “I know your father holds the purse strings, but you must have enough to marry on. Or you could find a rich woman to have you.”
Darcy wondered why Mr Travers did not marry Julia. He enjoyed what she offered, and she must be pressuring every man she waylaid to propose if she was pregnant and needed to marry before it was too late. “Have you ever considered marrying?” Darcy pressed him.
Mr Travers sucked in a breath and aimed. “Once. My father did not approve of my choice when I was about Mr Henry Tessier’s age.” He made his shot, and walked round the table to shoot again whilst the rest of them shared a look of surprise.