16. Conversations

CHAPTER 16

Conversations

T he conversation over dinner veered from the continued threat posed by George Wickham, and encompassed, instead, the journey the two parties had undertaken. Jane described the carriage ride to Northampton, Wolverhampton, and then Oswestry, giving an account of the inns and the scenery along the way.

For one less familiar with Jane's particular manners and reserve, it would seem an open and complete accounting of that party's experiences, a traveller's tale fit for any audience. But Elizabeth knew her sister intimately, and understood the cast to her eye, the way she pinched her lips and let her fingers toy with the fork in her hand or the stem of the wineglass before her. There was more that Jane had to say, but not here. This tale would be for Elizabeth's ears only.

She caught her sister's glance and offered a subtle nod, which was answered with a momentary smile. An entire conversation was carried out in those miniscule gestures. They would talk in one of their rooms later.

Quite oblivious to this interaction between the sisters, Will took up the thread of their own, much less comfortable, travels. He explained their choice to journey down through Abergavenny and only then, having achieved the quiet lanes that few knew existed, back north threading as close to the mountains as the tracks allowed, and stopping at small towns and villages for supplies. Elizabeth noticed he said nothing about the nature of their accommodations other than that they were rustic. He certainly gave no indication that they had even been in the same room at night, and breathed not a word about the ruined church or the night in the crease in the hillside that was not quite a cave.

The others seemed to accept this intimation of propriety without question. There were no accusations, no expressions of dismay or alarm, only the joy of everybody being well and safe and under the same roof.

The accounting would come later.

Likewise, there was no prolonged tea or a suggestion of cards after dinner. This was not a house party, after all, and Elizabeth was exhausted. That bed in her room was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, and she wished to acquaint herself intimately with it forthwith. She excused herself from the gathering and prepared to make her way back up the old staircase to seek her room.

"I will come as well and help you, Lizzy." Jane rose and dipped a curtsey to the men before following Elizabeth out of the room.

Elizabeth forced a smile onto her face. She both longed to acquaint her dear sister with everything that had happened, more than the tidy version that Will had told, whilst at the same time, wishing to hold on to those experiences and keep them personal and private for a while longer. Those nights lying with Will, feeling his warm body against hers, and the comforting circle of his arms warding off all danger, these were gems to be jealously guarded, as if sharing them would somehow diminish them.

Dared she talk about the hunting shack? The not-quite-cave? What would Jane say? And Jane, she understood, had something she wished to tell Elizabeth. Perhaps, tonight, she could allow Jane to speak, and hold her own tongue for later.

The bedroom seemed miles away, not merely up a few stairs, and Elizabeth felt her energy fail her with every step, until at last, they entered her chamber. That large and soft bed beckoned, but Elizabeth suspected it would be some hours before she could, at last, succumb to its embrace. Sisterly duties must come first.

"Now, Lizzy, tell me everything," Jane insisted as she closed the bedroom door behind her. "Not only the parts that Mr Darcy wanted Papa to hear. He is very handsome."

Elizabeth eyed the bed with longing but resigned herself to conversation. "Help me with this gown, Jane. I am not quite certain how Gwen did it up. There are straight pins somewhere, I think, and I very much wish to throw myself into that soft chair. Very well. What do you wish to know?"

Jane set to work removing the pins and laces from the old dress, commenting here and there about some features of the twenty-year-old style. For a while she concentrated on her task, but once the bodice was unpinned and Elizabeth could step out of the heavy skirts, she asked again about Will. "Was he… was he a gentleman? He seems so very proper, but Lizzy! He stole the carriage, and with you in it! I thought I would never see you again." Jane caught Elizabeth in another fierce hug, crushing her close, and Elizabeth gladly returned the embrace. For a time, she had despaired of ever seeing her dear Jane again as well.

After a moment of reassuring each other, Elizabeth stepped back and began to fold the voluminous garment. She laid it upon a chair, along with the bodice, and stretched. "It feels strange to have clothing so fitted to my waist. It is far tighter than our stays." She gestured to the undergarments she had borrowed as well, which she began to unlace, leaving her clad only in a clean white shift.

"You are avoiding my question, Lizzy." Jane eyed her like a school master examining a naughty student.

"Will… Mr Darcy…"

"Will?"

"When I first confronted him, I thought him a labourer or something, certainly not a gentleman. His clothing looked like something he stole from a rubbish pile, and he was covered in filth. He introduced himself as Will Darcy, and I addressed him by name. Once his status was made clear, it seemed disingenuous to revert to something more formal."

Jane's reply was a knowing smile, her delicate brows high on her forehead.

"He has been a perfect gentleman, Jane! His sense of propriety would satisfy even the vicar. Even when we—" She stopped, but had already said too much.

"Lizzy?" Jane pulled her hand until they both sat on the bed, side by side. "What happened?"

"Nothing, really. But we did not always have the luxury of fine inns or private accommodations. And…" She would not divulge everything, but this seemed comprehensible, if not laudable. "Last night, we had to flee the town where we stabled the horse and cart, and found ourselves in the woods as it grew dark. It was cold, and the small cave we found provided little protection from the weather."

"You did not!"

"It was perfectly innocent, but yes, I admit to us huddling together to keep warm. It was dark and cold in there, for we dared not light a fire, with only enough of a projection to shield us from the worst of the wind. There was not even a place to lie down properly. We leant against the rocky wall and tried to sleep. I know how it must sound. Oh, do you detest me, Jane?"

At once, her sister swept her into another fierce hug.

"Detest you? Not at all. I cannot think anything ill of it, and if you did sleep in such proximity, I am certain it was entirely necessary. But you do know, you must marry. There is no hiding this, no matter how proper his behaviour."

Elizabeth nodded. She still had not found the words, even to tell herself, how she felt.

"Do you like him, Lizzy? If you do not, I will plead with Papa on your behalf. I cannot have you married to a man you cannot like."

"I must, Jane. You have to see that. If we do not marry, then you, and Mary, and Kitty, and Lydia, will all be stained by my disgrace." Oh, heavens! Why did her voice sound so thick? Was she crying? The warm tear that threaded its way down her cheek confirmed her fear.

"I would rather die an old maid than have you tied to somebody against your will. And our sisters…"

"Will never have the opportunity to make this decision. I cannot do that to you. I had thought, for a time, of having Will proclaim me dead. I was going to apply to Mrs Lloyd to stay here and work for my keep. You would not be tainted by my misfortunes. But when we arrived, and Papa saw us, well, Will's arm was around my waist, and there was no pretending we had been ten feet apart the entire time. Our father is a most indulgent parent, but too many people were witness, and he could not hide it forever. I understand that. I have accepted my fate."

Jane's embrace tightened for a moment. "But tell me, can you like him? Is he a good sort of man?"

"Oh yes. He is the very best sort of man I have ever known. I do like him. I think… I think I love him."

And, unaccountably, she dissolved into a flood of tears.

Jane found a handkerchief from somewhere and gave it to Elizabeth to dry her face. "Do not cry, Lizzy. It cannot be so dreadful if you like him."

"How can I be happy, when he is marrying me only out of duty? I want to be loved, but I also want him to be happy. In marrying me, he will be burdened with a wife he did not want."

"Can you be certain of that? He seemed most attentive earlier. I cannot imagine he does not care at all."

"I have to believe he thinks of me only as a friend."

"Marriages have been built on less, and friendship is the surest foundation for love."

Elizabeth gave her eyes a final pat with the handkerchief and tried to smile. "I can only wish it so. Now," she forced her voice to be bright, "what of our charming host and the handsome Mr Bingley? I noticed some glances there as well. There must be a tale."

The mouth so often turned up in a sweet smile now tightened. "They are both admirable gentlemen," she began.

"But?"

"But… Oh, I do not know what to do." She stood up from the bed and walked to the window to stare out into the darkness. "They are like schoolboys, one taunting the other, and the other responding poorly. They both seem to want the same toy, and I am afraid that the toy is me."

"Say it is not so! The colonel, acting like a schoolboy? Is he the taunter? What has he done?"

The curtains rustled as Jane pulled them closed and spun around to face her sister. "I believe that Mr Bingley is not impartial to me. He has been most attentive, and when we received your letter, he offered his carriage without a moment's hesitation. I thought, at first, that he was merely acting in a neighbourly manner, that he would do the same for anybody.

"He rode all the way to London to seek out Colonel Fitzwilliam, hoping to ask his advice on where Mr Darcy might have gone. The colonel returned to Longbourn with Mr Bingley, and has been ever helpful and gracious."

"I see. He seems a most amiable gentleman."

"That he is. But every time Colonel Fitzwilliam pays me a compliment or says something that might gain my favour, Mr Bingley grows quite agitated. I would almost imagine Mr Bingley to be jealous!" Her hands twisted the handkerchief she had lent to Elizabeth.

Elizabeth had to stifle a chuckle.

"You are a very beautiful woman, Jane. It ought to come as no surprise that you are the object of their attention."

"You sound like Mama. ‘You cannot be so lovely without a reason,' she always tells me. But I cannot like it. It is flattering to have captured one man's eye, but to be a cause of the discord between two? No, I cannot like that at all. I am most uncomfortable."

Elizabeth patted the bed beside her. "Come and sit. Now, of the two, which do you like the best? You cannot be certain of the intentions of either, but have you a preference? I have only now met them, and both seem like fine men."

Settling beside her again, Jane stared at the wall for a moment before replying. "They are, I believe. Our acquaintance has been short, and hardly ordinary. I met Mr Bingley the day you… you disappeared, and the colonel two days later, and we have had a singular common purpose since then.

"I can only believe the colonel to be acting in the best interests of his cousin. He is polite and friendly, and very kind. But I do not think his attentions are particular. I quite suspect he pays me such honours merely to watch Mr Bingley's reaction, which is not quite gentlemanlike. Is it?"

Elizabeth hardly had a wealth of experience with the man from which to draw her own conclusions, but Colonel Fitzwilliam did not seem a cruel sort. He would not have taken leave from his regiment and carried three strangers across the country to this excellent house had his intentions been borne of caprice or malice.

"Perhaps this gentle teasing is merely his way. Mr Bingley is the one who chooses how to respond."

The tension broke when Jane began to laugh. "Oh, how the shoe is on the other foot now, Lizzy! I am usually the one cautioning you to look for the good in people and to excuse their seeming faults. Yes, you must be right. The colonel has been nothing but good and generous."

"And Mr Bingley? He does like you, it seems. Do you like him?"

"Yes. I believe I do. Besides the use of his carriage, he has insisted upon supplying the coin at each inn and rest stop. And he is rather handsome, for those who care about such things. I would enjoy the chance to know him better."

"And that, from my sister, is high praise indeed!" Elizabeth gave Jane a quick one-armed hug, but could not stop the yawn that now overtook her.

"Forgive me, Jane. This has been a long day… a long week. I am looking forward to sleeping in a comfortable bed with soft sheets and a pillow!"

"But," Jane smirked as she stood and walked towards the door, "No Will Darcy."

Darcy swallowed a yawn and covered his lapse by bringing his glass of port to his lips. He wished for nothing so much as a long sleep in a warm bed. Well… perhaps he might wish for one more thing, but he was too much of a gentleman to admit to the thought, much less to put it into words.

After the two Bennet sisters had retired for the night, the men sat a while longer. Richard brought out a decanter and glasses and poured a finger for each of them. The conversation was general, more about the hunting lodge, the estate, and the neighbourhood than about anything substantive. After a while, Mr Bennet rose to bid his good-nights, his eyes informing Will that they would speak on the morrow. Then Bingley, too, declared a wish to retire. It seemed he was not entirely comfortable with Richard, for what reason Will could not entirely comprehend. After a few minutes' further conversation, Hawarden rose to retire for the night.

Now Darcy was alone with his cousin, and as much as he longed for sleep, he also had questions.

"How did you come to join the Bennets? I had not imagined that when Elizabeth sent her letter, they would know enough to connect me with you. I did not even know she had given my name."

"They would have found me somehow. A letter to anyone with a knowledge of London society would have supplied the link. But it was your friend Bingley who came searching. We had met previously, of course, and he remembered where to find me."

Darcy gave a slow blink. "You did not need to join them."

"You are my favourite cousin and my best friend, Will. If you were in danger, I had to help in any way I could."

"I return the compliment, Richard. I could not imagine being closer to a brother. But you could have given the direction and taken a fast horse, arrived here days ago."

Richard shrugged. "Perhaps. But I wished to see what these Bennets were like. When I heard that Miss Elizabeth was in the carriage, and had some knowledge of her age and unmarried status, I understood at once what must eventually happen. I wanted to ensure that these were the sort of family with whom you could tolerate being associated."

"And had they not been a suitable connection? Had they been hopeless, or of poor character? What then?"

"Then I would have done everything under my power to convince Squire Bennet that there was no need for you to marry Miss Elizabeth, that there was a maid along as chaperone the entire trip—and yes, I would have produced such a woman to attest to this. That solution is no longer possible, but if you do not wish to wed the lady, I will think of something."

Darcy swallowed.

"What is it, Cousin? Do you not like her? You seemed most solicitous of her comfort earlier, and she seems a fine sort of person, and more than tolerably handsome."

"She is remarkable. I like her a great deal, more, perhaps, than I ought."

"But you do not seem happy. Is it the family? I confess I have known Bennet for only a few days, but he seems harmless enough. The mother, so I have been told, is subject to fits of nerves, and the younger sisters are perhaps a bit silly?—"

Darcy threw his head back on the chair and let out a groan. "Do not remind me of silly sisters. If mine had acted with more propriety, I would not be in this awful mess. As for a matron with nerves, I would prefer a well-meaning and doting mother like that to an officious harridan like our Aunt Catherine. She is still after me to offer for our cousin Anne and will not hear my refusals."

"Yes. Indeed! I see that. What, then, is your worry? Miss Elizabeth is pretty, charming, and as you say, remarkable. And you like her too. What stops you from beaming from ear to ear?"

Darcy glared at him. "I do not beam. I occasionally permit myself a small grin."

Richard rolled his eyes.

"We have to marry; this I understand. I wish it, but I do not think she feels the same way. She likes me well enough, but she wants to marry for love. What lady does not?" Richard nodded, so he continued. "I understand that to mean she desires to love the man she weds, and if that man were me, she would be less apprehensive. She even proposed a scheme to feign death to avoid this union." His sigh all but shook the walls.

Richard rose and poured another amount of port into his glass. "You do not think she cares for you." It was a statement.

Darcy shook his head and let it fall forwards in his distress.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed his cousin set down his glass and pull his chair very close to Will's own.

"Talk to her honestly, Will. I cannot believe her entirely indifferent to you. Time has given me a great deal of experience discerning where attraction and affection lie, and the way she glances at you, and how her eyes follow you around the room, make me think her heart is more committed than you imagine."

"I am afraid to ask. If I do and she states she will never love me, it would quite destroy me. Oh," he slammed his glass onto the table with more force than he expected. "Listen to me, mooning about like a love-struck calf. I have known her for a week. How did she ever become so important to me? Richard, she shot a rabbit for me!"

"She what?"

By the time Darcy had finished the story of the tree and the rabbit, Richard was laughing and Darcy was feeling much more the thing.

Then Richard's face grew serious again. "There is one more thing you should know, Will." He leaned forward, forearms on his thighs. "We stayed two nights in Oswestry, as we have recounted. I did have some matters to discuss with the colonel in charge of the French prisoners on parole there, but there is something more. That second morning, very early, Mr Bennet and I took two fast horses up to Wrexham to speak to the Archdeacon there. It is only fifteen miles."

A strange sensation rose from Darcy's feet. This could only mean one thing.

"I have bought you a licence. It would be best for everybody if you were to marry before returning to England."

Darcy sat perfectly still, quite unable to move for a moment. He had known what he must do. But the immediacy of it was a shock, nonetheless. That tingle in his feet, now shooting up into his spine—was it dread? Or excitement?

He was going to marry Elizabeth! As the idea settled itself onto him and made a nest for itself in his mind, the tingle resolved itself into one of qualified joy. He loved her, or near enough. If she proved to be half the woman she had shown on this strange journey they had just taken, she would suit him perfectly. Oh, there would be whispers in society about her lower status and lack of exalted relations, but he cared little for what the muttering matrons thought. She would stand up to them and prove herself every ounce worthy of the Darcy name. Anybody who could shimmy up a tree and shoot a darting rabbit was more than capable of facing society. She was that impressive a young lady. If he did not love her entirely now, it would not be long until his whole heart was committed.

Was Richard correct? Did she, indeed, hold some sort of real affection for him? He needed to talk to her, and soon, before the necessary events of the following day overtook them. Before her father informed her as to her destiny. And before they had to deal with the shadow of George Wickham, which even now cast a pall on his happiness.

He had to speak to her, and find out what he could possibly do to let her be as pleased as was he.

Somewhere in the house, a large standing clock chimed three o'clock in the morning, and Darcy was wide awake. He had gone straight to his usual room after that conversation with his cousin, and had sunk into a deep and dreamless sleep. The mattress was soft and did not poke him in strange places or cause him to itch, and the sheets were like butter, light and supple on his tired limbs. He hardly felt the pillow, for his eyes closed almost as soon as his head touched it.

But now he was awake, and irredeemably so. Perhaps he was accustomed to interrupted nights, or perhaps it was the unfamiliarity of the bed. It mattered not. His eyes were open and would not close. He rose and walked to the window, pulling the draperies open just enough to peer out into the darkness. This part of the house, the family's wing, was in the more recent addition to the building, and rather than being in a line with the old Tudor structure, it stood perpendicular to it, forming two sides of an enclosure of the gardens behind the house. He had, therefore, a fine view of the back of the main part of the house, and of each window that looked out over that beautiful garden, backed as it was by the woods in the near distance, and the mountains behind.

It also gave him a fine view of one window that was not dark. A thin line of orange light cracked from between the curtains in one bedchamber. Somebody was awake. He counted the windows from the end and tried to recall what Richard had told him. Bingley… Mr Bennet… Jane… Hawarden was in the house as well, but he had his usual rooms in the far wing. It was not he, but one of the travellers. Now, who had which room?

Yes! He remembered now. Elizabeth was in the Rose Room. It had seemed so fitting at the time, for she brought images of that beautiful flower to mind. He envisioned her sitting on a delicate garden bench, surrounded by rose bushes, or lying on a white bed, her hair loose on the pillow behind her, rose petals strewn all about…

He chastised himself for such errant thoughts, but did not expunge it from his mind. In truth, he did not think he could.

Then he counted the rooms again.

The hallways of Coed-y-Glyn were empty and silent. The family not being in residence, there were no footmen waiting in niches or sconces lit for late-night revellers. There was nobody to see as Will crept in his stocking feet down the passage, across the portrait gallery, and down into the guest wing. There was nobody to hear the occasional creak of the wooden floor or the soft swish of the silk banyan he had borrowed from Richard. The lamp in his hand flickered, the flame a wisp in the black night, its aura swallowed by the darkness. But it was enough to light his way.

Had the household been awake and the common sounds of footsteps and murmured conversation been present, his scratch at the door would have disappeared into nothingness. Now, the sound all but echoed from the ancient ceilings. There was a sense of sudden stillness from the other side, the world holding its breath for that one instant, and then the shuffle of slippered feet on soft carpet.

The door cracked open. "Will." She had not even glanced to see who it was, but just seemed to know. "You should not be here."

"I know. But I need to talk to you. May I come in?"

Her face, half hidden by the wooden door, went immobile. Then her eyes blinked once and she dipped her chin. "Very well."

He slid in and closed the door behind him, careful to make no noise.

"What if we are found out?"

He huffed out a short laugh. "It can hardly change our fate now. No—" he stopped as her face went hard and white. "I mis-spoke. We must wed regardless. Being found together will not change anything, and I would rather spend the time with you, talking, than being alone. Will you hear me?"

Another slow nod.

"I am not dreading this, Elizabeth. It is, perhaps, a decision I might have wished to make for myself, but I am not displeased with it. No, not displeased at all. We… we rub along well. Do you think you can be happy as my wife?"

He moved towards the bed with its rumpled sheets and blankets, and reached for her hand, urging her to sit beside him. Her eyes betrayed caution, not fear, and a great deal of uncertainty.

He felt the mattress move as she settled beside him, rather closer than he had hoped for. "I shall be content. I know full well the honour you do me. I shall do everything to be a good wife to you." The trepidation in her regard, if anything, increased.

"No, content will not do! I want you to be happy, as happy as you can be with me. I shall never hurt you, you must know that. I will demand nothing of you, if you do not wish it."

She seemed to understand his meaning, and the worry in her eyes eased. And Will's heart clenched. It was true, then. She cared for him as a friend, but no more. Very well. He would take her friendship if that was all she could offer him. It was far preferable to not having her in his life at all.

He took a deep breath. "There is something more. Your father will tell you of it tomorrow, but I wished you to hear it from me."

The anxious pinch reappeared between her delicate brows.

"Richard and your father made a second journey on their way here, up to Wrexham. There is an archdeacon there, and he was able to provide them with a common licence for us to marry. I do not know your father's thoughts, but Richard suggests we would be best to wed soon at the village church before we leave here. Certainly, before we return to our homes. Our home. For Pemberley will be yours as well."

A spark of curiosity lit her eyes and it kindled his own fire, the flame of deep love he held for his ancestral home. At her encouraging smile, he spoke with growing animation of his estate.

"You will love it, Elizabeth! The house is quite grand, but the grounds and the park, ah, those are its true beauty. There is a river that runs through the immediate park, swelled into a lake near the house, and wonderful gardens. There are paths through the woods, and a folly on a small hillock on the far side of the lake where my sister and I enjoy taking a picnic. At times, we wander there early in the morning or at dusk, just to spend time and watch the birds. Do you draw? I ought to have asked before now? It is a lovely site to set up an easel. Or, if you prefer, I can have a servant set up a spinet there in the warmer months, or a loom, or a sitting room with a library.

"You will have anything you desire. If I can afford it, it will be yours. My deepest desire is for you to be happy. Can you be happy? Will you try?"

Her eyes were wide and a bit damp. "You are a good man, Will Darcy. I am still growing accustomed to our circumstance. I have known you a week, and in a few days we will be married. But I will be happy. I am not made for melancholy."

He put an arm around her shoulders and she cuddled into his side. He cherished the feel of her, warm and soft against him, the slight pressure of her arm against his chest, her head coming to rest on his shoulder. He only hoped she would learn to feel likewise about him.

They sat there for a while, resting against each other, comfortable with the silence. Then Elizabeth yawned, a subtle and gentle sound, but a yawn nonetheless. And her yawn engendered a yawn in Will, which he could not stifle.

"I am, perhaps, a little tired," Elizabeth whispered. "I might lie down. It is strange, but I could not sleep without you. Will you lie down with me, just for a moment?"

Darcy's eyes were suddenly leaden. "Yes. Just a moment."

Without thinking, he lay down and pulled Elizabeth to him, and they fell asleep together on the top of the bed, and stayed there until the sun threaded its bright fingers through the chink in the curtains.