Chapter 9

On the Road to London

Thursday, 13th August, 1812

Elizabeth settled comfortably back on the plush padded seats of Mr. Darcy's carriage. It was utterly luxurious, with plenty of room for all of the passengers' legs, and so well-sprung that it was rather like what Elizabeth fancifully imagined it would feel to ride upon a cloud.

Sarah, the maid who would be accompanying Elizabeth and Lydia to Scotland, sat contentedly at her side, a piece of knitting in her skillful hands and a long tail of yarn trailing up from the small workbag at her feet. Opposite from her sat Mr. Darcy's valet, a spare, neat man with a face so blank that a piece of paper would envy him. Across from Elizabeth herself, looking very serious and absurdly handsome, sat Mr. Darcy.

An unaccustomed shyness gripped Elizabeth, even as a bloom of happiness ignited in her chest. She could only regret the circumstances that had precipitated this reunion with Mr. Darcy, but she could not deny her joy at being with him again. Nevertheless, anxiety about her sister, and a burning curiosity as to Darcy's arrangements, rose on her tongue, and she swallowed her words with difficulty. Even if the servants' discretion could be counted upon, she had no desire to discuss the most intimate details of her family's disgrace in their presence.

So preeminent in her mind was this burning concern that she was having trouble thinking of a more acceptable topic of speech. For several minutes, the quiet was broken only by the faint sounds of the horses' hooves and the wheels on the road and the clicking of Sarah's needles. Elizabeth clasped her hands and was just steeling herself to speak of the weather when Mr. Darcy unexpectedly asked, "Have you ever been to The British Museum, Miss Bennet?"

"I have," Elizabeth returned with a grateful smile. "In fact, my aunt has been kind enough to escort me there many times."

"What are your favorite exhibits?"

"Oh, that is a hard question to answer! I enjoyed so many of them…"

What followed was a far-ranging discussion about the Rosetta Stone, and Egyptian artifacts, and engraved gems, and the various objects displayed from the round the world voyages of Captain James Cook. Not surprisingly, the gentleman and the lady found themselves arguing over the importance of some of the displays. Elizabeth thought, not for the first time, that Mr. Darcy was one of the few men who could keep up intellectually with her in a debate. He also did not seem to mind when she disagreed with him, unlike many men of her acquaintance.

Darcy, on his part, could not help but feel vaguely lightheaded to be in the presence of his beloved Elizabeth again. There were, without a doubt, many uncertainties ahead regarding Lydia and the entire Bennet family, but given the heartsickness of only a fortnight earlier, when he had been certain he would never see Elizabeth Bennet again – well, he could only be thankful to God for bringing them together at Pemberley.

Moreover, he was confident that the Lord was directing him to fix this situation with Miss Lydia. Everything he had previously said with respect to Wickham was true; he had allowed his pride and sense of loyalty toward his father to keep him from dealing with the rogue as he should have. It was, in a very real way, his fault that Lydia had run off with a salacious villain.

It was his duty to solve the problem, and the fact that he would enjoy the presence of Miss Elizabeth while he did so was a special blessing.

/

The Gardiners' House

Gracechurch Street

Two O'clock in the afternoon

It was a peculiar time for a large meal, but then the circumstances were unusual. Tomorrow morning, a party would leave for Scotland, and many of those in attendance of this meal had to make preparations for the long journey north.

In spite of the early hour, the Gardiners' servants had managed an excellent meal. The tempting scents of dinner filled the room, turkey and a ham and roasted chickens, vegetables and white soup and rolls. Elizabeth murmured her thanks as her aunt, who was seated beside her, passed the potatoes. Elizabeth took a portion and passed them on to Mr. Darcy at her other hand. The potatoes were excellent, creamy and buttery with a hint of salt, and she savored her first bite. She was remarkably comfortable considering the business of the day.

She was very aware of Mr. Darcy sitting close to her, tall and imposing and protective, like a great oak tree. Her lips curved up slightly in amusement as she contrasted her attitude in his presence today from the previous autumn. Last year, she had always been ready to find fault with his every utterance, and now she was content – even happy – to be seated beside him, to talk to him, to look at him.

Elizabeth took another bite of the delectable potatoes, glancing thoughtfully around the table. She was used to the ladies at dinner far outweighing the number of males, but today the ratio was the reverse; there was only herself, her aunt, and the redoubtable woman who was to be Lydia's new companion to represent the fairer sex.

Elizabeth had met Mrs. Greenfield but an hour previously and had at once been impressed. She well knew her younger sister's headstrong nature, only aggravated by both the Bennet parents' refusal to rein her in, and Elizabeth had feared that any lady set to care for Lydia would find her hands overly full. These worries had been assuaged by the commanding Mrs. Greenfield, taller and broader than Lydia and with a refreshing, no-nonsense air. Elizabeth had fewer concerns with Mrs. Greenfield looking after the girl.

The gentlemen at the table outnumbered the ladies two to one. Mr. Gardiner presided at the head of his own table, of course, and Colonel Fitzwilliam was present, having vetted the further three gentlemen dining there this evening. Each was an honorable and kindly man, with aspirations of gaining the money Mr. Darcy was providing in exchange for marrying the besmirched Lydia.

Elizabeth had met all three in the drawing room a few minutes before dinner, and now took the opportunity to observe them more closely as she pondered what the colonel had told her of each man. Sir Christopher Harding was seated across from her, a pleasant and expressive man with long elegant hands and shapely fingers that gestured around as he spoke. The only son of an irresponsible minor baronet who had gambled away his family's wealth at the gaming tables, Sir Christopher was eager to rectify his father's mistakes by replenishing the family coffers and strengthening ties with the aristocracy. He was a fair-haired man with a weak chin and rather anemic blue eyes, and Elizabeth feared that he might not be handsome enough to tempt Lydia. A pity, for his outgoing temperament matched hers – somewhat more than that of taciturn Captain Scofield beside him.

Elizabeth regarded the captain next. He was handsome, certainly, with dark hair and dark eyes and a complexion tanned from the sun on the Continent. Colonel Fitzwilliam had introduced him as a personal friend, and the two men were plainly at ease in one another's company. But Elizabeth was not at all sure that Lydia would choose him, either, for a silvery scar cut across his forehead, scarcely concealed by his hair, and he walked with a slight limp from the wound that had returned him home to England's shores. He listened more than he spoke, and when he did have a contribution, it was unvaryingly sensible. He would be an eminently suitable husband, Elizabeth felt, but she feared that he would appeal little to flighty Lydia's taste for excitement.

Commodore Quill was the last hopeful contender for Lydia's hand. A navy man through and through whose first love was the sea, judging by the animation of his thin face and the brightness in his blue eyes as he spoke of his ship and the way she cut through the waves. His uncle was a gentleman, but the estate was small and the land poor, and the family fortunes had not been favorable. Quill gave as much of his meager pay as he could spare to support his mother and siblings, and ten thousand pounds for marrying a gentleman's daughter would go a long way to helping out his relations. He would be home rarely, and Elizabeth winced at the thought of how Lydia might comport herself as a grass-widow – home without her husband for months at a time while he was at sea.

"I found a letter waiting for me at Darcy House from Georgiana," Darcy said, pulling Elizabeth's attention away from the others at the table. "She wished me to extend her greetings to you, and to assure you of her prayers on behalf of your family."

"Oh, how very kind of Miss Darcy," Elizabeth replied. "Please give her my regards as well, and my apologies for having to leave Derbyshire so hastily. I would have enjoyed getting to know her better."

"I have hopes that in the future you and Georgiana will be able to spend substantial time in one another's company."

This, not surprisingly, caused Elizabeth's color to rise, and she took a hasty sip of wine in a vain attempt to tame her wildly beating heart. She could not miss the obvious meaning of Mr. Darcy's words. The master of Pemberley was still interested in marrying her, in spite of her vicious refusal in Kent, in spite of Lydia's elopement and the Bennets' shame. It seemed incredible because the Bennets had fallen very low indeed, and Mr. Darcy had, during his offer of marriage some months previously, spoken at great length of his pride of position and connections. It warmed her chest to see this evidence that Mr. Darcy's attitudes had changed significantly in these last months.

"Miss Bennet, do I understand that you will be accompanying Miss Lydia north to Scotland?" Sir Christopher asked from across the table.

"That is my intention, yes," Elizabeth said. "I look forward to spending time with my youngest sister and will doubtless enjoy the journey itself. I have never been to Scotland before."

This provoked a wide-ranging discussion of the scenery and roads of Northern England and Scotland. Elizabeth participated with enthusiasm but was constantly aware of her suitor at her side, who spoke infrequently, but always with intelligence.

Regarding the suitor in question, Darcy, while he enjoyed the conversation, was aware of a strange trickle of unease in his heart. After some cogitation, he realized that he was nervous, and yes, perhaps a trifle jealous. While he was far wealthier than the men vying for Lydia's hand, he knew himself to be awkward in company, and it could be argued that all three men were more congenial than he was.

Not that they would offer for Elizabeth, of course. All three needed money, and the Bennets had little. There was really no fear of losing the lady he adored to any of the gentlemen at his table.

But looking on Elizabeth's bright face and listening to her arch and interesting remarks, he could not entirely squelch his fears. She was, he thought, the most beautiful, intelligent, delightful lady in all of England, and after the twists and turns in their relationship, he was afraid that something would happen to keep them apart.

Mrs. Gardiner rose from the table at this moment, breaking his concentration, and Elizabeth and Mrs. Greenfield followed her example. Elizabeth bestowed a smile at Darcy and retreated out of the room with the other womenfolk, leaving the men alone. Darcy forced himself to set aside his hopes and fears for Elizabeth in order to speak about Miss Lydia.