Chapter 66

66

E lizabeth sat in her bedchamber looking out over the town, crowded with all the mean little houses crammed together; the grey and smoking chimneys relieved only by the hills rising in the background.

William would not be calling today — perhaps as much as a week — and she wondered at the uncertain feelings the thought engendered in her.

But he had sat down with her yesterday, his gaze tender.

"Elizabeth," he had said. "I am glad you have recovered so well, and that we have been able to talk about your future and how we can assist you in fulfilling what you want to do — without in any way persuading you to another's desires."

She had allowed him to take her hand and squeeze her fingers as he continued. "But before we make too many plans which might not be appropriate, I think I need to meet my cousin in town and go with him to see your uncle. We need to discover whether he is a true business man and loyal to you, or if he has been colluding with your father to deprive you of money that is rightfully yours."

She had looked down, wanting to defend her uncle, yet knowing that her love and trust had been given to her father, too, and he had proved unworthy.

But William had understood. "This is why I want to go now, Elizabeth. I pray he proves to be worthy of your trust and that you will be able to recover confidence in some part of your family."

She had smiled at him uncertainly, and written the note he had asked for, authorising Uncle to tell him of her affairs.

Now she had four or five days in which to consider her life without his unsettling presence. She huffed a quiet laugh to herself. Unsettling in a wonderful way, of course.

Her life and beliefs had all been turned upside down by what had happened, and she did need time to think.

While she was rather ashamed of being so ill — having always thought of herself as a strong and resilient person — she was still glad to have actually heard her father's words as he and Jane clashed in her bedchamber. He had not denied any of Jane's accusations, and he had decided that he would not allow Mr. Darcy to return.

If she had not heard him for herself, she may always have wondered whether she might have been mistaken about him.

No, she would never be able to trust him again. And in little more than two months now, she might never have to. She did feel sorry for Mary, though, there alone in the house with only Mama and Papa.

Jane put her head around the door. "Are you going to come down for some tea? It will only be us. Charles has gone to his cousin to call on his sister, and his aunt has gone to the bookshop."

Jane looked at her over the top of her teacup. "So what is troubling you so, Lizzy? It cannot all be because Mr. Darcy has gone to town. He has promised to return and you know of his devotion to you."

Elizabeth frowned. "Nothing really. I am happy to have the opportunity to think quietly — everything has happened so fast. But I am a little worried about Mary on her own there, with Papa unhappy. Or has he dragged Kitty and Lydia out of school, blaming me?"

Jane lifted her shoulders slightly. "I have not heard anything, Lizzy. As you know, I have not given the direction to any of the family so Papa could not find you here."

Elizabeth made a face. "You have given up so much for me, my dearest sister. I am sorry."

"And I am glad to have been able to be of assistance. You know that. So what do you want to think about while Mr. Darcy is in town?"

"Only that this cannot go on for another two months, Jane. It is not fair on you, or Mr. Bingley, or even Mr. Darcy and the colonel, too."

Jane nodded. "I fear you might be right. But I don't suppose you would want to go home to Longbourn."

Elizabeth shuddered. "No, I don't know that I will ever be welcome again there, even after I have reached my majority."

Jane reached for the teapot to refill their cups. "But even if you live with us at Netherfield, you would still be within Papa's reach." She gave a sly grin. "I suppose it is a good thing that Derbyshire is so far from Longbourn."

"Jane!" Elizabeth scolded. "What are you telling me? That I should presume on Pemberley to accommodate me?"

Jane's eyebrow went up. "You must know that I am thinking of Gretna. It is not three long days of travel as it would be from Hertfordshire, but a scant two days." Her smile threatened to make Elizabeth laugh. "Don't tell me you have not been thinking of it."

Elizabeth shook her head. "You are quite out, Jane. I am not even betrothed. You know that."

"Hmm." Jane rolled her eyes and selected a pastry. She nodded at the plate. "You take one, too, Lizzy. You are still not back to full health yet."

Just as she reached for a pastry, Elizabeth hesitated. There was an odd thought in her mind, and she looked inward.

Jane looked at her with an odd smile on her face. "Ah. I know that expression. Go on, Lizzy. Take a turn in the garden. I think you need to."

"You know?" Elizabeth was astonished.

"Yes. I'm happy for you."

Elizabeth wondered about her sister as the maid assisted her to button up her warm pelisse. How did she know?

But once she was in the garden, she forgot everything else. It was quiet and hesitant, but music was rolling through her once more, and warmth spread over her. She had begun to think that she might never sense it again, never have the joy of plucking notes from her mind.

She didn't know how much time had passed, but Jane was there, tucking her arm into Elizabeth's. "Come. You must be cold."

Elizabeth allowed herself to be led indoors, but was soon up in her chamber, circling the room. She must write it out, this tune; even though she had no music paper, no printed staves. It would be more difficult for her, but not impossible.

Five days. William had been gone for five days now. He could not write to her of course, but Mr. Bingley had received one letter from him, saying that he had met his cousin and their business was proceeding at pace, and that the colonel was likely to be coming north with him. He had very civilly offered his best wishes to Mrs. Bingley and Miss Bennet, although she had been a little dampened by the lack of any personal message to her.

But the days had flown past. Her music was not quite as it was before, and Elizabeth was also less anxious to get all the music onto paper before it was lost forever.

Jane had been delighted for her. "Of course it was not important for me that you recovered your music, but I knew it was essential for you. So I am happy."

Elizabeth had smiled, and refused to allow herself to be distracted, but she had something to ask Jane. "Do you think it will be safe if I write to Charlotte now? I know I must not put this direction, but how else can I assure myself that everything is all right for her, and that Papa has not attempted something bad?"

Jane had shaken her head. "I hope you can wait a few more days, Lizzy. Mr. Darcy will be back soon, and I hope he will have a suggestion for you. And you cannot receive a reply unless you give this direction, which you know would not be safe."

Elizabeth had acquiesced, and added this worry to her list of things with which to anticipate his arrival. Yesterday evening, Mr. Bingley had received a short note, saying that William was less than a day away, and he and his cousin would call this afternoon, if it was convenient.

So she sat here, forcing herself to appear calm as she stitched some item or other for Mrs. Dawkins; she could not even decide what it was.

She disciplined herself. William would not appreciate being greeted too enthusiastically, she was sure. She would be calm and collected. And ladylike.

She heard the doorbell, and Mr. Bingley got to his feet to answer it. His aunt did not have many servants, and Elizabeth was grateful she had accepted her staying here, too. It must have been difficult.

Then the sitting room door opened, and Elizabeth glanced up. To her utter mortification she burst into tears. "Aunt Gardiner!" And she was in her aunt's embrace.

"Oh, Lizzy! What a terrible time you must have had. Now, are you able to calm yourself a little, as we are in company?"

A large man's handkerchief was pressed into her hand, and Elizabeth buried her face into it. Sage, sandalwood and old leather. Mr. Darcy. William. She looked up and smiled apologetically. So much for being calm.

His features were concerned. "I am sorry, Miss Bennet. We should not have surprised you."

"I am happy with this surprise, sir." Was he being formal because of the presence of her aunt and uncle? That they were here must mean he trusted them, surely?

Soon, the introductions were completed. Mr. Bingley's aunt — Mrs. Dawkins — went to her little parlour, which she preferred to entertaining, and they were all sitting round, the refreshment trays on the table.