Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

T he ride from Derbyshire down the Great North Road was as ever, informative for a man who often travelled it and was a close observer of the route. Near Grantham, young rabbits were a common sight once again. By Stilton, the trees were budding and wildflowers blooming earlier than a year prior. In Meryton, a few miles west of the busy road, Darcy could only imagine events, but he was certain one young lady was enjoying the nascent signs of spring. Elizabeth Bennet would be relishing the smell of fresh earth, of mulberry trees with their velvet buds, crocuses peeking out of the still chilly ground. She would be walking, rambling about, alone or in company with one of her sisters. No, she said none enjoyed walking as she does. With Miss Lucas, perhaps.

It comforted him to think she had a friend in Meryton with whom to exchange confidences; the few times he had been in company with Miss Lucas, he had found no fault with her conversation or comportment and saw a sensible young lady who would support her friends and family even if she herself did not garner the attention of young men.

Elizabeth garners attention. Darcy smiled when he recalled Miss Lucas's brother had been enthralled by her, albeit when neither was of age to pursue a connexion. Goulding had proposed when both he and Elizabeth still had their milk teeth. Now he was to marry another young lady; Mr Lucas had gone off to town and likely he too was married. Neither had retained their ‘love' for Elizabeth.

Once acquainted with Elizabeth Bennet, how could a man ever look twice at another lady? Darcy rubbed his eyes. I have not. But I must.

He had not forgot the way he had been drawn to her nor how he had struggled with her proximity while she stayed at Netherfield with her sister. How often had he stood near her to catch her words and expressions? Quite often—when he was not feeling overly vulnerable to her and fleeing a room. Foremost in his memory were those few hours they had spent in close company in the boat-house, conversing and laughing in shared harmony, and the frightening urge he had felt to hold her in his arms. How difficult it had been to turn his back to her and stand outside, forcibly disengaging himself before the arrival of their rescuers from Longbourn. How cold it had felt!

Sighing, Darcy shifted to a more comfortable position on the padded seat. He wondered how Bingley was faring. He knew of his engagement to Miss Jane Bennet, of course, but the lines announcing the happy news were nearly the only ones legible in the two letters he had received from his friend. ‘I am to be married to Miss Jane Bennet and hope you will come to support me in May.'

Of course he would, no matter that Bingley's wedding was only the second impetus for going. Thoughts of seeing Elizabeth again would certainly help him get through his Easter visit to Rosings.

London was as it ever was. He kept himself to familiar haunts—White's and Brooks's for company and conversation, and D'Angelo's to expend energy. It was there he spent an afternoon, putting his tutelage to the test in a series of matches with his cousin. Darcy had the longer reach but Richard, with his career in the military, was the more expert fencer and he made sure to remind Darcy of it. Much as he enjoyed swordplay, he faulted himself for his lack of practise.

That evening, he was reunited with the victorious colonel for dinner. He rubbed his arm as they rode in his carriage.

"Do we expect rain or does my excellent swordplay still affect you?"

It was dry as dust but Darcy was unwilling to admit to having a muscle that ached.

"I am sorry you are in pain already for it can only worsen with the headaches Lady Catherine will cause you." Richard snorted. "Are you prepared for three weeks of terrible dinners and long afternoons spent persuading Rosings's neighbours not to sue her and her tenants not to flee for the hills? "

Darcy chuckled. "I survived four days in December at Rosings without your company. I am prepared for whatever may happen."

"And without my protection, you managed to leave without an engagement to Anne. Truly impressive."

"I shall always leave Rosings without an engagement to Anne. The only question is whether I will be able to persuade Lady Catherine of that truth."

"Get yourself a wife and she may believe you. Or not," Richard laughed.

Darcy managed a nod, and directed his attention to the sights outside his window. His cousin was excessively talkative, as usual, and stayed to his topic.

"You say that Bingley is engaged to his angel? Was it his idea or her father's?"

"It is a love match, and I am pleased for him. Her father is a gentleman, which lifts Bingley in society." Darcy stretched out his legs. "You would understand his attraction to Miss Bennet. She is kind-hearted, serves as calm to his chaos, and is even prettier than he."

"Bennet, eh? She is sister to the infamous Miss Elizabeth Bennet? You have described that lady's intrepidness but said nary a word on her appearance. Is she that unlike her sister, with only her wit to recommend her?"

Darcy was at a loss to describe her in a manner that would not reveal his strong partiality. He sighed as a vision of Elizabeth in Netherfield's library, slowly turning the pages of her book, the low candlelight casting soft shadows on her face, sprang unbidden from his memory. He ached to know more news of her, to see her. The few words he could make out in Bingley's latest letter were paeans to ‘his angel', ‘Jane', or ‘a fine roast' .

The days he would spend in Meryton for Bingley's wedding would put paid to these unsettled feelings he had towards Elizabeth—perhaps seeing her and speaking to her could help close the door on the lack of farewell in November.

"Oh dear. Is she that bad?"

"No, no, no. She is quite lovely."

"I see."

He looked up. Richard was grinning at him. "‘Quite lovely?' Mark the date. The unconquerable Fitzwilliam Darcy has complimented a lady's beauty—after first being struck dumb."

"Does it surprise you I am not made of stone? I can admire a woman's looks or disparage a man's horse or his character, as you well know."

Richard gave him a sceptical look but said no more.

Thank goodness . He could not have Richard suspecting him of feelings he would not acknowledge for a lady he might meet again only at Bingley's wedding—particularly when at Rosings, where Richard's cursed idleness made him curious about Darcy's innermost thoughts and Lady Catherine retained ears and eyes within the house and grounds. His visit there in December was brief—he managed the business with the flooded neighbours—and painful, for while Lady Catherine was not on her deathbed, he had seen the toll that asperity and limited company had taken. He had seen as much despair as displeasure when he left to spend Yuletide with Georgiana at Pemberley, and thus, his guilt had fuelled his promise to spend a full three weeks at Easter. Three weeks? He groaned. They had not yet left town for Rosings and already he was anticipating their departure from there.

That restiveness he had felt for months rose in him as the carriage came to a stop in front of White's. He felt it here in town, he had felt it at Pemberley. It made little sense—Pemberley was his home, the place where he was most content. And yet the disquiet had followed him there; Georgiana had noticed and worried that she was the cause—again. Bless Mrs Annesley; she could speak to and calm his sister as no one else had managed. Else, he would not be able to leave her for this dreaded sojourn to Kent.

Perhaps I need someone who can calm my worries, too.

In the few days he had in town, Darcy had turned away most invitations but could not decline attendance at a dinner party at the Bradfords'. Sir Walter and his wife were neighbours—just four houses away from him in Grosvenor Street—and it was incumbent on him to support the couple, who had lost their youngest daughter to fever only a year ago. The girl had been only a few years older than Georgiana and had always been kind to her, even giving her one of her dolls when eight-year-old Georgiana had lost her own.

I can enjoy their company and please my aunt and uncle by appearing in society.

After such an enjoyable evening, Darcy thought to spend a leisurely morning; he had no appointments until the afternoon, when he planned to go to the bookstalls and find himself the most engrossing books possible for the weeks he would be at Rosings, as well as a novel or two for Anne. His cousin would be pleased, and he was determined to pick out titles that would shock her mother, should Anne be foolish enough to read them outside of her chambers.

He breakfasted late and was dawdling over the newspaper when his butler entered the room. "Sir, Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst are in the front hall. Shall I show them to the drawing room?"

He cursed. One evening out in company, and somehow, word has leaked to them that I am in town. He did not wish to meet with either lady, but good manners and a little alarm about news they might have on Bingley's upcoming wedding prompted him to rise from the table.

Darcy greeted the sisters and alerted them that he had only a few minutes to spare before a meeting. He ignored Miss Bingley's feeble explanation that they had hoped to visit with Georgiana and congratulated them on gaining a fine sister in Jane Bennet.

"Dear Jane is so sweet, but her sisters! Especially that conniving Eliza. You made a fortunate escape after your heroics, Mr Darcy, when she led her cousin into the woods during a storm and was indecently exposed."

"She was not exposed," he replied sharply. "As is well known, Mr Collins was injured, and Mr Goulding and I were in their company during the storm. I trust no one has spread half-truths about the events of those hours."

Mrs Hurst spoke before her sister. "Of course not. Your good name and reputation are untainted. The other gentlemen are well-settled with wives."

A moment's panic seized his throat. "Mr Collins has married?"

"Miss Charlotte Lucas, who was sat upon the highest shelf until she threw herself at him." Miss Bingley laughed meanly.

He breathed out. While it was no doubt distressing to Elizabeth to lose her friend, at least she was in no more danger from her loathsome cousin.

"She managed to make herself tolerate him," Mrs Hurst tittered. "But she is out of Lucas Lodge, a fortunate escape at her age, and shall someday be mistress of Longbourn. That is something."

If Mrs Hurst meant her sister to read between the lines, she failed in her mission. Miss Bingley only shrugged. "More cunning than the Bennets, who will lose their home." She spent a moment smoothing her gloves before settling a worried look on Darcy. "You think Miss Eliza clever but truly, she has vicious propensities."

He sighed. Here he was presented with his first news of Elizabeth Bennet in months, and his sources were determined to malign her. He could be civil, for the sake of learning more, until replying to their insults.

"Vicious propensities, such as gossiping and slandering?"

Mrs Hurst understood his jab but her sister was too carried away to take warning.

"Capriciousness! After spurning Mr Collins, Eliza dallied with Mr Hurst's poor cousin, flirting and cooing only to break his heart as well when she refused his proposal! A decent man of fortune and education! "

Whatever ease he still felt evaporated. The poor girl was besieged by half-witted admirers and spiteful snakes. He could only hope this suitor was not as insistent as the previous one.

He looked at Mrs Hurst. "Your husband's cousin was with your party at Netherfield, after I returned to town?"

"Yes, Mr Nugent. He is a year or so younger than Charles, always cheerful and friendly, and?—"

"And with a good income and a house in Sussex," said Miss Bingley. "A fine catch, certainly beyond Elizabeth Bennet's station. She beguiled poor Mr Nugent and broke his heart. His disappointment has only worsened his poor mother's health."

His mother. Ah yes, the dowager who lay abed with her spirituals and her many doctors. Hurst dined out on tales of his late father's sister and her myriad obsessions with potions and oils from the Orient. Nugent may have a house and fortune, but it was a happy escape for Elizabeth, who now had suffered proposals from two ridiculous men overawed by difficult old women.

He wondered at the true source of Miss Bingley's upset for Mr Nugent. She , after all, was rather in need of a man of fortune, and one with an estate and a house in town would be a triumph for the lady—as well as a great relief to himself and her brother.

"I am grieved for any man or woman whose heart is wounded," he said, with more generosity than he felt. He looked at Miss Bingley, sour-faced and bitter-souled. "Was Mr Nugent much sought by other ladies, and thus this outrage on his behalf?"

Her jaw dropped in a most unladylike manner. "Of course not—he lacks a certain sophistication and depth. Nothing like Mr Hurst," she assured her sister. "Apparently, he likes rustics and had eyes only for Miss Eliza, who is all wiles and arts. You know this, Mr Darcy. She tried to entrap you as well."

"Intelligent conversation is not a form of entrapment." He tried to quell the anger in his voice. "The Bennets are hardly rustics. Mr Bennet is a gentleman, and thus, Miss Elizabeth is Mr Nugent's equal, and mine."

Unchastened, Miss Bingley took a new approach to gaining his sympathy. "I fear dear Jane will want her with us, even in town! As if it is Charles's job to find her a husband."

Your brother is unlikely to find a husband for you unless money changes hands. Darcy's patience had ebbed, and he stood to make his excuses. "Ladies, my apologies, but I have an appointment," he prevaricated. "Was there anything else pressing that you wish to discuss?"

Miss Bingley stood and stepped towards him. "Only a wish that you be careful, sir, and remain away from Netherfield. The Bennets have declared Miss Elizabeth must wed the next man who proposes, be he a sheepherder or a wrinkly old soldier."

An ultimatum? For having the good sense to refuse fools? Discomfited, Darcy moved away from her, taking a place behind his chair. "A demand? She is to be forced to wed?"

"She is tainted now, of course, with so many offers declined, and is desperate to save herself from another unwanted proposal. No man of good character and fortune is safe from her attempting an imposition. Not that you are prone to her allurements," Miss Bingley said as Darcy dug his fingers into the upholstery, "but she is clever, and there is danger there for an eligible man such as yourself, particularly as she failed in her previous attempt to compromise you."

A heavy silence descended on the room as Darcy considered his response. Mrs Hurst appeared nervous and began moving towards the door. He stalked past her and took hold of the door handle. After a deep breath to calm himself, he turned to them.

"Your warning is quite unnecessary. I assure you I am safe from any woman's ill intentions."

The moment the front door closed behind the Bingley sisters, Darcy told his butler to send word he would be delayed meeting his solicitor, and retreated to his study. For the next half an hour at least, he wore a hole in the carpet, pacing and worrying over the strange news delivered by the Bingley sisters.

No one should be forced to marry. If forced marriage was the law of the land, he likely would have been wed five years ago to Anne.

Tainted?

Elizabeth Bennet was an intelligent, thoughtful, curious, kind-hearted young lady who deserved far better than parents so weak of character. Her vulgar mother and careless father neither understood her full worth nor deserved her. How had it come to this? Had his departure from Netherfield after they had sheltered together so damaged her reputation?

He now recalled meeting Albert Nugent a year or two ago at a dinner party hosted by the Hursts at their home on Grosvenor Square. Nugent was an eager young buck, almost still a boy, and full of smiles; he was not unlike Bingley in many ways—other than claiming his place as an acolyte of Brummel and at the beck and call of his sour-faced mother, who sat silently eyeing the goings-on and speaking only to Nugent and an elder daughter, engaged to marry some baronet. No, regardless of his fortune and connexions, Elizabeth Bennet could not be shackled to such a man. Yet by spurning Nugent's offer, she was expected to accept whatever man came along next and admired her enough to want her as his wife. Admired? Any man would admire her. What if a man wanted her only in order to conquer her mind and quash her spirit?