Chapter 27 Regard
Comfortable before the warm fire, in the drawing room, Elizabeth caught her aunt searching Mr. Gardiner’s face, and he answered with a brief inclination of his head. Then Aunt Maddie’s gaze fell upon Elizabeth, and she knew herself the object of their conjecture.
Georgiana settled beside her and Elizabeth regarded the girl with affection. “I love your henge, Georgiana. I have been quite absorbed in reading about it, but now that I have seen it, walked upon the banks, and touched the stones, I am even more enthralled by its mystery.”
“Lizzy, I suppose I have not valued it as I should. Seeing it through your eyes has opened mine. Shall I get to see your books, the ones you have been studying?”
“If you like. I cannot imagine they contain much to engage a young girl such as yourself.”
“If they interest you, Lizzy, then I am certain I shall value them.”
Mr. Radcliff said, “Miss Georgiana, you always play for me when you and your brother visit. Will you favor us today?”
Georgiana rose. “It is my pleasure, sir.”
She crossed to the pianoforte, took her place at the instrument, and played Beethoven’s Sonata Quasi Una Fantasia.
The haunting melody held them all, and when she had finished, Elizabeth asked hopefully, “Would you play Passacaille?”
The girl asked, “Do you mean Handel's Passacaille in G minor?”
“I believe that is the one I mean. I heard it once at a musical entertainment at the Theatre Royal, but I was only ten at the time. I remember it being played on a harpsichord.” She looked to her aunt. “Do you remember, Aunt Maddie?”
Mrs. Gardiner laughed. “I am sorry, Lizzy. I remember taking you, but I have no recollection of what we heard.”
Georgiana said, “Handel’s original was written for the harpsichord. I will play it for you, and you will tell me if it is the piece you are remembering.”
The passacaglia was beautifully executed, and applause and compliments followed. Georgiana resumed her place beside Elizabeth as Mrs. Gardiner said, “Elena, Lizzy sings. You shall have a songbird among you for the next several months.”
Mr. Radcliff said, “I have missed my little songbird ever since she married and left us. I have often complained that Mrs. Radcliff married her off far too young.”
Mrs. Radcliff said, “Had I known what a void her leaving us would create in the family circle, I would have made Sir James wait another two years for her. But what is done is done.”
“And she is very happy, is she not?” Mrs. Gardiner said. Then, looking to Elizabeth, she asked, “Lizzy, dear, will you sing Lady Isabel and the Elf Knight?”
Elizabeth rose. “Yes, Aunt. If you are determined upon melancholy, I shall oblige you.”
She crossed to the instrument and took her place upon the bench, letting her fingertips brush lightly over the ivory keys. A Broadwood grand. Never had she expected to play upon so fine an instrument.
She placed her hands upon the keys, closed her eyes, and began to play. Then her voice rose in song. The music soon carried her away, and when the final notes faded, applause filled the room.
Mr. Radcliff offered his compliments, but Elizabeth listened for only one voice.
“Exquisite.”
One word from Mr. Darcy, but it said everything. She lifted her head and met his eyes. For a moment, they might have been the only two people in the room, and she felt as though she had known him all her life.
Georgiana broke the spell. “Lizzy, play us another.”
“Let us hear Fair Annie, my girl,” Mr. Gardiner added. “It is my favorite.”
“Uncle, you wish to bring us all down this morning. We shall have to end with something to raise our spirits. Perhaps an Irish air.”
Elizabeth began the ballad. The music, even more than the words, conveyed abandonment, humiliation, grief, and betrayal.
Elizabeth sang the lyrics that recounted how fair Annie had borne her lord seven sons and carried his eighth child, only to learn that he meant to bring home another woman as his bride, whom Annie must prepare for and welcome.
The final words hung in the air as Elizabeth ended the ballad. “Fair Annie took out her virginals, and, sadly did she play.”
When Elizabeth had finished, her gaze fell upon her young friend, who held a handkerchief to her eyes.
Georgiana had been especially touched by the song.
Elizabeth did not wait for the applause to subside before beginning The Lass of Richmond Hill, singing the bright, affectionate English love song with all the spirit she could summon.
She followed it with The Blue Bells of Scotland, and by the time she finished, the young girl had recovered herself.
Elizabeth rose and extended an inviting hand. “Come, Georgiana. Shall I show you my books?”
Georgiana sprang to her feet and took her friend’s arm. They crossed to the far end of the parlor and settled into adjacent chairs. Elizabeth offered her the books one by one, opening each to the illustrations that most delighted her.
“See here. This illustration is most like the henge. Whenever I look upon it, I shall be standing atop that limestone again, looking out over that grand monument.”
Mr. Darcy joined them but did not take a chair. He stood behind them, looking over their shoulders and listening to Elizabeth’s enthusiasm. From time to time, she raised her eyes to include him and found his expression earnest.
She fell deeper into his thrall. There could be no going back.
Whatever happened between them, she knew her feelings for him had deepened beyond mere attraction, even if nothing could ever come of their acquaintance.
She would never again be the girl who had traveled to Derbyshire.
She would be a woman haunted by those dark eyes, those beautiful brows, and the affection she believed she had glimpsed within them.
* * *
Before long, Mr. Darcy took the third chair. Elizabeth’s notebook lay open upon the table, and he read the entries on the page. There were only three.
The first briefly recounted the disappearance of a farmer upon the moor on December 21, 1710. His belongings had later been found within the stone circle at Arbor Low. The book and page were entered in the last column.
Darcy raised a brow. He had never encountered this account. Might he one day discover human bones in the woods or upon the open moor surrounding Arbor Low? After a hundred years, they might lie buried beneath the earth, but surely they would not have entirely decayed.
He read the second account. Another disappearance. What was it about tales of missing persons that so engaged this lovely young scholar? This one, dated December 21, 1722, concerned a drunken farmer who had vanished.
Darcy raised his brow again. More bones?
The last account concerned a grieving woman who disappeared on December 21, 1740. No book appeared in the references column. Instead, Mrs. Gardiner’s name was listed. The entry came from an oral account related by the daughter of one of Dr. Wynn’s patients.
His eyes drifted to where Mrs. Gardiner sat with her sister.
She was a sensible woman, but his father had never spoken of a woman’s remains being discovered near Arbor Low.
Surely, if a body had been found during his grandfather’s lifetime, the account would have passed through the family. His curiosity stirred.
His gaze returned to the beauty seated across the table from him.
Everything about her was entrancing, from her lovely face and pleasing figure to her resonant soprano and quick mind.
And still she was concerned with disappearances.
Was she so absorbed in the mysteries of the past that she had begun to believe in the darker tales of this world?
When there was a pause in the conversation, Darcy asked about the disappearances.
Color rose in Miss Elizabeth’s face, and her eyes shuttered. She glanced away, plainly disconcerted. Was she hiding something from him?
She raised her eyes to meet his and began to explain. He was taken with her lovely mouth, her full lips and finely shaped jaw. His gaze traveled upward. This woman had the finest eyes he had ever beheld, framed by dark, curling lashes. She bewitched him, body and soul.
Her color deepened, and Darcy shifted. He had been staring, and now she appeared more unsettled than before. He looked away, and his gaze fell again upon her notes. Her hand was precise, elegant. He touched the quill, then raised his eyes as she spoke.
* * *
Elizabeth drew a breath and glanced at her young friend, who waited to hear what she would say. She could hardly confess that she hoped to find a way back to an earlier time, when her world had been orderly, her sisters safe at home, and her parents alive and well.
When had everything changed? In May, when Lydia marched into the house carrying hawthorn branches laden with blossoms.
Elizabeth gathered her thoughts and answered him. “Sir, my Papa began my education when I was ten years old. Our most recent studies concerned the works of the antiquarians. I found these accounts especially interesting, so I devoted a page in my notebook to them.”
She reached over and picked up the notebook. “I have made notations of all the areas of interest.”
She leafed through the book until she located two pages filled with notes. “I have listed all five and twenty ancient monuments found here in Derbyshire.” She read several aloud. “Nine Stone Close, Doll Tor Stone Circle, the Bull Ring, Nine Ladies Stone Circle, Arbor Low Stone Circle and Henge.”
She indicated a star beside Arbor Low. “This monument especially caught our interest, and I determined that I must visit it. I meant to seek a position as a governess, if possible, so I might come here on my day of leisure, but Aunt Maddie decided instead to ask Mrs. Radcliff to invite me as a guest. And here I am.”
Mr. Darcy’s expression was grave. His brow furrowed, and his mouth tightened. “Hire yourself out, ma’am?”
“Yes, sir. I am an orphan and have no dowry to speak of. I have only my father’s collection of books, including some first editions, but I doubt I could ever bring myself to sell them unless necessity compelled me. I would rather seek a position as a governess and earn my keep.”
His expression softened. “You might also marry, ma’am.”
Heat rose in her cheeks, but she made no answer.
He pursued the subject. “Is marriage so appalling?”
“Sir, I am a penniless orphan. I am hardly likely to attract a man whom I could respect or with whom I might have anything in common. If one is to live in holy matrimony with another for the rest of one’s life, surely, they ought to share some common interest upon which they may converse.
Otherwise, Mr. Darcy, marriage would prove a bleak prospect for both. ”
His expression warmed. “Yes. I understand you. Though I doubt any man would find you a bleak prospect, Miss Elizabeth, perhaps you might find some difficulty in meeting a man of substance who could converse well enough to keep an engaging woman interested. We are a sad lot, ma’am, more interested in horseflesh and crops than in refined pursuits. ”
Elizabeth laughed. “You are clever, sir, but I take your meaning. Let us change the subject, for I find it exceedingly taxing. My Papa always used to say, ‘Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.’”
Mr. Darcy rose, and the two women followed suit. “Miss Elizabeth, the morning has been extremely agreeable, but we have trespassed upon your hospitality long enough.”
Georgiana took Elizabeth’s hand. “Lizzy, may I come and study with you?”
“You wish to study with me?”
“Yes. I promise I will keep silent and spend my time reading. I will not interfere with your studies.”
Elizabeth laughed. “You may come, then, since you promise to be an earnest little scholar.” She addressed Mr. Darcy and, from his expression, suspected he too wished to be included. “Sir, may your sister study with me tomorrow?”
Georgiana placed a hand upon his arm. “Fitzwilliam, I promise I will comport myself as befits a gentlewoman.”
“Yes, of course. We can ride over together, and I will return for you at the appointed time.”
Mr. Gardiner had drawn near and now extended an invitation of his own. “We are going fishing tomorrow. Perhaps you would care to join us? I cannot promise company equal to what you have enjoyed this morning, but there is the trout.”
Mr. Darcy grinned. “You mean to fish Mill Brook?”
“Yes. We hope to catch some trout for our dinner.”
Darcy accepted, and they agreed to meet at half past ten the following day.
“The trout should be rising by then. It will be too chilly much earlier.”
“I look forward to it, Sir. I shall come a little earlier to leave Georgiana.” Darcy addressed Elizabeth. “Unless nine o’clock is too early for you, ma’am?”
“No, sir. I am an early riser. I shall have been at my books for an hour by then.”