Chapter 23

It is almost like a dream, Darcy thought. That he should be driving along with the woman he was falling in love with, and it be so easy, so natural. Under usual circumstances, he would never have ridden out with a young lady, fearing it would give her ‘ideas’—but he found that with Elizabeth, he might want her to have them. Should he begin a consideration of her as a potential bride?

He raised the subject of leasing Netherfield Park, wondering aloud whether it would be a fitting home for Bingley. She responded with what she knew of Netherfield’s history, owners, and certain locally known conditions of the estate and its tenants—tit-bits he never would have learnt from a leasing agent. He asked her about the Hertfordshire countryside, appreciating her love of it.

“Why did you leave?” he asked, and then could have bitten off his tongue. She had explained the hostility her mother held for her. He added hastily, “You need not speak of it, if the question was intrusive.”

She looked at him consideringly, her dark eyes unreadable. “I do not mind telling you, Mr Darcy. I have not yet learnt to entirely repent my actions, although I do have regrets.”

“I would be honoured to listen,” he said gravely, happy to nurture any confidences.

“Longbourn was entailed to a cousin none of us had ever met,” she began, and then did not seem to know quite how to continue. Again, it appeared to him that she had never spoken aloud of these matters.

“The one my aunt mentioned—her former vicar,” he prompted. “Collins, I think she said?”

“Yes,” she agreed.

“Is he a sensible man?”

She tilted her head consideringly. “Well, I did not like him. I believe it natural to resent anyone in his position, a stranger who sweeps in to claim one’s home as his own, without even allowing us a few weeks to mourn and find acceptance. I cannot help but think Mr Collins is especially insensitive to the feelings of others—pompous and yet servile. He has another quality, a sly sort of aggressiveness I found inappropriate. I am certain we all, except possibly Mary, felt the same—including my mother. That did not stop her, however, from insisting that Jane accept his offer of marriage.”

Darcy clenched his jaw to avoid comment. It was a natural solution to the problem of an entail with remaining female dependents.

“Mr Collins did not ask for Jane’s hand—rather, he informed us all that he had ‘chosen’ her, and expected us to be relieved and excited. We looked to Mama to disabuse him of the notion, but found no reprieve in that direction. In private, I asked all my sisters whether they wished to make a visit to town to see my uncle Gardiner—he had particularly told us we would be welcome. I knew we would not be given permission to leave, but I thought I had enough money for fare on the post. I did not mean that we should permanently live with my uncle, you understand. I hoped he would be able to at least delay, if not prevent, any such marriage—and if all my sisters went, we could all gain his protection. Mr Collins would never listen to any of us, but my uncle Gardiner is a difficult person to disregard or disoblige.”

“He is a good man?” he asked calmly, even as his thoughts screamed protest that a young lady like Elizabeth might have been riding the post to town. London was a city with every variety of person, including violent ones, and the inn stops were full of villains looking for innocents fresh from the country.

“The very best of men, yes. Even so, Mary refused to consider the idea. Regrettably, we did not extract a promise of silence from her. The four of us had planned to walk to Meryton the next morning, early, carrying a trunk between us. As we crept down the stairs, Mr Collins and Mama awaited us. They were…displeased.”

He could tell by her tone that she was abridging her account.

“What did they do?” he asked lowly. He would have dearly loved to take her hand again, but she clutched both hers tightly together.

“Mr Collins pointed out that as we were all, excepting Jane, not of age, we could go nowhere and do nothing without his permission—even claiming that all of our possessions were, in fact, his own. Uncle says he was wrong about that, but none of us knew it then. He took everything we had, including my money. He charged that, as this ‘rebellion’ was my idea, I must be naturally bad, and as master of Longbourn, he was obliged to discourage vice. Such an undutiful female, he insisted, should never be permitted in his home. Indeed, my name was never to be mentioned again. He opened the front door, and I walked through it.”

“What?” Darcy turned to look at her, startled. “Surely not.”

“Lydia—my youngest sister—writes to me still, whenever she can manage it, so we do hear from them occasionally. She has a birthday coming soon.” She said it wistfully. “Her fifteenth. I wish I could send her a gift, but of course, she would never be allowed to keep it.”

“I know your mother was angry with you, but she could not have?—”

“She said I had been a curse upon her since the day of my birth, and could do nothing to prevent my expulsion. But…”

He could not help himself; he covered her hands with one of his. “But what?”

“In the moment, I did not know what to do. I have a good friend who lived within walking distance—at first I thought to go to her, ask for writing materials to post a letter to my uncle and stay with her until he could collect me. Yet, it was all so ugly. I had not gone a mile before I began to consider the talk it would create. Charlotte’s family, well…”

“They would not be discreet?”

She gave a little snort. “Her father’s knighthood gave him a disgust of his business, and now, unshackled by trade, he makes time for nothing except gossip.”

“What did you do, then?” He kept his eyes on his matched pair, but he could drive this road in his sleep; nearly every bit of his attention was upon her. She had not shaken off his hand.

Elizabeth laughed a little. “Floundered, I suppose. I returned to Longbourn’s woods, keeping to a copse I knew well, out of the wind, trying to plan what I might do next. I waffled between asking Mr and Mrs Hill—our very faithful servants—to keep me for a time in their cottage until my uncle could fetch me, or trying to reach London alone.”

Darcy wished he could use his whip on Collins, imagining her helplessness against the awfulness of her choices. The inhabitants of Rosings Park were much better off without him, certainly.

“Ultimately, I decided that if Mr Collins learnt the Hills had aided me, there might be repercussions to them. So, long after dark, when I was certain all would be sleeping, I crept into the house. I knew where Papa kept some money hidden in his book-room that I thought might not yet have been discovered. Luckily, it was still there. I also decided to take the risk of returning to my room to see if I could retrieve any of my possessions. I should not have been surprised that Jane was awake still, and very relieved to see me. She helped me gather some things, offering to write to uncle, but I told her I would beat any letter, as I was determined to take the morning post. I hugged her good-bye, thinking I would not see her for some time, if ever again. It was…a hard moment.”

He squeezed her hands, still clenched beneath his own.

“I left quickly, hurrying down the stairs, avoiding the ones that creaked. It felt like some terrible dream from which I could not seem to waken. I made it nearly to the front door when a hand tightly clamped onto my shoulder, stopping me in my tracks. My mother’s hand.”