Chapter 5
FIVE
The next day, the Gardiners and Elizabeth were once again in their carriage, only this time Mr Darcy rode one of the Cross Key’s more robust horses just ahead.
After their conversation on the church path, the party had returned to the inn where Mr Darcy had written his note, entrusting it to a particularly determined errand-boy who braved the soggy fields on a pony, with the promise of several coins upon his return.
A reply came much later that day, one that was to Mr Darcy’s evident satisfaction, as he requested a meeting with Mr Gardiner upon its receipt.
The precise details of this conversation were unknown to Elizabeth, but with the reassurance of decent food and a comfortable bed, she understood that her uncle had readily conceded to Mr Darcy’s proposition.
All of the next morning had been spent packing up their belongings.
There was much to be organised, and although he was clearly still in some discomfort, Mr Darcy busied himself with the arrangements.
Elizabeth scarcely saw him: he was too occupied speaking to the coachman or ostlers about their onward travel or ensuring all their cases were safely stowed away.
From her bedroom window, Elizabeth watched him in the stable yard below, instructing those around him with quiet authority.
The sight of him put her mind in a whirl.
I cannot believe that Mr Darcy would be so amenable to my family.
He has every reason to escape my presence, and yet he goes to such lengths to ensure our comfort.
The night before, she had asked her aunt about what was to happen next.
Mrs Gardiner had shared all that she was able to divulge, which in truth was very little.
They were to journey only a short distance away and stay with Mr and Mrs Langford, the latter being some previous associate of Mr Darcy, and whose hospitality could be steadfastly relied upon.
In the scarce moments where Elizabeth had been in his presence, she had pressed Mr Darcy for more details, but he did not elaborate.
Indeed, Elizabeth sensed a strange reticence within him, as though there were more to this acquaintance than he was prepared to reveal.
Yet, I trust him, she realised, and it was with no small amount of anticipation did she embark upon the unexpected stage of her adventure.
Their carriage trundled slowly on the solitary road that led from King’s Newton in the direction of Castle Donington, before turning down a narrow lane encompassed by farmland.
Sheltered by trees, the route was rutted with mud, but this was not a passage taken by many travellers and was therefore not as churned up as the principal highways.
Mr Darcy insisted that they go slowly, explaining that although their detour was not of a long duration, he would far rather they all arrived safely.
Elizabeth watched him ride from her seat in the carriage.
His broad shoulders and powerful back were held very straight, and she hoped his injuries were not hurting him.
Mrs Gardiner peered over Elizabeth’s shoulder. “Mr Darcy is clearly a skilled horseman, but I am glad that he left his horse at the inn to be looked after by the ostler. The poor creature needed to recover, and I would not wish for Mr Darcy to be thrown again.”
“I agree. Hopefully Lysander will be fit to ride again soon.”
“Lysander?”
The hem of Elizabeth’s sleeve suddenly became very interesting. “Yesterday, Mr Darcy told me his sister named the horse after her favourite Shakespearean character.”
“How illuminating,” Mrs Gardiner mused. “I had no idea you were on such amiable terms. I was always under the impression that you did not much like him.”
Warmth flooded Elizabeth’s cheeks. “Mr Darcy visited his aunt in Kent at the same time I visited Charlotte—you recall my friend who married Mr Collins.” She struggled to meet her aunt’s inquisitive eye.
“We spent a great deal of time in one another’s company.
” The recollection of his impassioned declaration of love threatened to assail her, and valiantly she pushed that uncomfortable memory away. “He is not the man I thought he was.”
“No, indeed. There has been no sign of his much-lauded rudeness or disdain. His behaviour towards your uncle and myself has been nothing but agreeable. He is a little reserved, perhaps, but that is nothing a lively wife might not remedy.”
Her face now flaming hot, Elizabeth whipped up her head to meet her aunt’s gaze. “Whatever makes you say that?”
Mrs Gardiner’s eyes softened. “Nothing, my dear. It was merely an observation.”
After labouring through the sodden road for about fifteen minutes, Mr Darcy indicated that they should turn down a country track. He led the way atop his horse, clearly familiar with the route. Beyond the hedgerows lay wide fields of grazing sheep and cows.
Curiosity stoked, Elizabeth craned her neck from the window. “I wonder what Mr and Mrs Langford are like.”
Mr Gardiner shrugged. “I know very little except for Mr Darcy’s reassurances that they are kindly and respectable.” His eyes twinkled. “However, I am convinced Mr Darcy would not arrange for you to stay anywhere that was unpleasant, Elizabeth.”
The track bent round a cluster of trees, and a modest stone house came into view.
On its doorstep was a short, stout woman, whose ruddy cheeks, greying curls, and affectionate smile Elizabeth liked immediately.
Mr Darcy arrived first and dismounted. The older woman rushed towards him, her plump arms outstretched.
To Elizabeth’s astonishment, Mr Darcy allowed himself to be crushed into a maternal embrace.
She watched in wonder as the woman jabbed a finger towards the grazes on Mr Darcy’s temple; she did not need to overhear what was being said to know that he was clearly being scolded.
Beside Elizabeth, Mrs Gardiner began to chuckle. “This must be Mrs Langford. What connexion can she have to Mr Darcy? She cannot be a relation of his, or he would have told us.”
The carriage turned into the yard, scaring away all the brown and white chickens that were scratching the ground.
Somewhat rumpled after his encounter with Mrs Langford, Mr Darcy came to assist Elizabeth from the carriage.
Her hand slipped into his, she felt the firm pressure of his clasp and smiled gratefully.
Mr Darcy’s face lit up, and gently he guided her towards their new hostess.
“May I introduce Mrs Langford to you, Miss Bennet,” he said awkwardly. “She was my nursemaid for many years.”
Elizabeth could not contain her surprise. “What a pleasure! We are grateful to you for allowing us to stay in your home.”
Mrs Langford battered away Elizabeth’s compliment with a careless flutter of her hand. “It is nothing, I am sure, to all the finery that you are used to, but I could not rest when Master Fitzwilliam told me of the dire conditions you had found yourselves in.”
Elizabeth concealed a smile at Mrs Langford’s informal manner of referring to Mr Darcy. She risked a glance in his direction, only to discover his cheeks were a magnificent scarlet. He did not meet her eye, instead bowing low and hurrying back to the carriage to assist the Gardiners.
Eager to be on friendly terms with Mrs Langford, Elizabeth observed, “Your house is excessively charming. Why, you have the same colour roses climbing your walls as we do in Hertfordshire—it is as though I am back at home.” The older woman beamed at her remark, and once the others had joined them, beckoned for them all to enter, whilst apologising for her husband’s absence, as he had been called away to a tenant.
They followed her through the doorway and down a small passageway into the welcoming dining room.
Awaiting them on the table was an assortment of fresh bread rolls, sliced meat and cheeses nestled between dishes of butter, jam and a delicious-smelling cake.
Beside her, Elizabeth heard her uncle’s moan of delight.
“Come, come, sit down and help yourself.” Mrs Langford fussed around them, moving all the plates around, making a tremendous clatter.
“You must be hungry. I am sorry there is no one to serve you, but our maid is in the kitchen, helping the cook prepare tonight’s meal.
” She glanced up at Mr Darcy, who was standing awkwardly to one side, and said, with a hint of mischief.
“Perhaps Master Fitzwilliam will attend to you.”
Mr Darcy came alive at her remark and went to pull out a chair for Elizabeth. “Do not trouble yourself with me,” Elizabeth protested. “You are the one whose ribs are injured.”
Mrs Langford dropped the spoon she was holding. “Injured ribs?” She glared at Mr Darcy through narrow eyes. “You mentioned nothing of this to me in your note.”
Elizabeth did not think it possible for a man to look more embarrassed.
Mr Darcy shifted his weight from foot to foot.
“It was nothing of importance,” he prevaricated, “and it is certainly nothing worth interrupting this lovely meal for.” He pointed hastily at the cake.
“I see you have prepared my favourite sponge, Mrs Langford. I knew you could be relied upon to lay a generous table. Now tell me of your family—how are your sons faring at sea?” He assisted Elizabeth to her seat and shared a look with her—one that was a clear warning not to dwell any longer on the subject of his accident, and she hid another grin.