Chapter 37

Elizabeth cursed the impulse that had led her to dash into the nearest room when she saw Mr Darcy and Lord Matlock coming up the stairs, apparently arguing, and walking directly towards her. Hiding from Mr Darcy? Why had she behaved so irrationally? Had she thought he might turn away from an important conversation to say something to her of proposals or refusals or…or kisses, in the presence of the earl? Why could she not simply treat him with indifference?

“Miss Elizabeth!” Mr Darcy said, no doubt startled to see her standing stupidly in the centre of his library without a book or any apparent reason for being there.

“I-I was just leaving.”

“No need for that,” the earl said. “Now, Miss Elizabeth, you are a sensible, intelligent young lady. Have you ever heard of a certain journalist by the name of Mr Pennywithers?”

Elizabeth felt her blush begin. “Yes.”

“Have you ever known him to write anything defamatory or libellous?”

“I am sure I have never read anything libellous.” Libellous? What could he mean?

“I do not say libellous per se,” Darcy inserted before the earl could ask another question. “But intrusive, interfering, and insensitive, certainly. Richard deserves his privacy to be respected, and not have his personal affairs flaunted before the public!”

“What good has privacy done him?” the earl growled. “He is hiding, which never did any good for anyone!”

“You are missing the point, sir. His wishes?—”

“Are ridiculous! Miss Elizabeth, have you ever heard of suing someone for writing a most flattering sketch of a man’s character?”

“He wants to sue Mr Pennywithers?” she asked faintly.

“Who knows what Richard wants, since he has disappeared? It is my nephew who does not seem to understand how the law works in this country.”

“I understand the law,” Mr Darcy replied sternly. “I do not say it is libel, but I am sick to death of the perpetual harassment by these word-vultures, who will say anything at all if it will sell a few papers. They ‘earn’ their money via gossip and hearsay and making a mess of other people’s lives. This Pennywithers seems to be a ringleader of sorts—according to everyone I have spoken to, he is the most popular of the lot. I have enough lawyers to badger and bother the rumour-monger into retirement, to make an example of him before all the others.”

“An example,” Elizabeth repeated, forcing her mouth to work as a sense of unreality filled her. “Because he named your cousin a hero.”

“Exactly! You read it, did you?” the earl exclaimed, rubbing his hands in visible glee. “Better than most of the claptrap in the papers these days! Darcy here is lost to reason, and I will count on his solicitors to tell him so.”

“And if they do not?” she could not help but ask. Never in her life had she dreamt that words she had written would lead to a suit; not only had her uncle carefully explained to her the law, and what was and what was not permitted, but he read through her columns before sending them on to Mr Bowen. “You cannot expect a valet to be worth suing.”

“It is not the valet who will pay, but the paper’s owner,” Darcy said, obviously still furious. “I will put the Herald out of business, see that I do not. Although this meddlesome Pennywithers will not escape scot-free either. Vultures! All of them!”

“Too late, Darcy. Everyone has already read the best Pennywithers has ever written, I daresay!” The earl was obviously giddy at the memory of it. “In fact, I had better write the Herald now, and make arrangements to buy a dozen copies along with my subscription!” He clapped his nephew on the shoulder, gave her a quick bow, and strode from the room.

Elizabeth watched Mr Darcy’s eyes narrow at his uncle’s departure; obviously the earl’s opinions only lit a fire beneath his temper.

“Did you truly read what Pennywithers wrote?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Surely you jest, then, when you speak of lawsuits! He wrote a piece praising your cousin, and could have had no idea that you or-or Mr Fitzwilliam would be offended by it.”

“Like all the others of his class, he is a prying, meddling jackal. I have tried forbearance. It, plainly, leads to nothing but ever-greater intrusions.”

She started at the continued insult. “Perhaps with others of his trade, there is some truth in what you say, but you cannot know his motives. Mr Pennywithers has lauded your cousin and never, in even the slightest sense, injured you. How could you blame him for the actions of others? Surely you would not ruin a person who has done nothing to harm you?”

“You take an eager interest in his concerns,” he said.

“He is plainly a decent, hard-working fellow, a simple observer of the human condition. He is a nobody who has nothing compared to you or your cousin. I ask again, why ruin him?”

Mr Darcy looked down his nose, with no slight indignation.

“Because I can,” he said coldly, and, with the barest of civilities, left her standing alone, surrounded by a thousand books, his threats echoing loudly in her ears.

Elizabeth feltshe must leave Pemberley, and at once. Although it might be better to send an express to her uncle, the idea of waiting days for him to make arrangements was impossible—she might just as easily return to London with Sarah next week, as planned. It was still early enough to walk into the village; she had enough money, she was fairly certain, to hire a carriage, and although post would be cheaper, Jane would never agree to ride in it.

Would Jane even agree to accompany her? Her sister would not be happy about this sudden change in plans, seeing it as yet another example of Elizabeth’s choices ruining her own. She might choose to remain. Nevertheless, she must be told—and quickly.

Elizabeth found her sitting in one of the pavilions in the extensive gardens, with—and much to her surprise—Miss Bingley. But then, if Jane was serious about Mr Bingley, she would have to form a friendship with his sister, would she not? Elizabeth met them with a formal greeting.

“Sister, I wonder if I might have a few moments of your time?”

Jane, ever gracious, assented immediately. When they were alone, Elizabeth broke the news.

“Mr Darcy has taken exception to Mr Pennywithers’s latest column. He threatens a lawsuit. I must return home immediately.”

Jane gasped. “How can you know this?”

“He told me himself, after accusing Pennywithers of the worst sort of infamy.”

“He cannot mean it. I read it—there was nothing of which he might be ashamed. Mr Bingley thought it quite nice—‘a ripping good piece’, those were his very words.”

“Mr Darcy violently disagreed, and evidently Mr Fitzwilliam as well, for he has gone away. No one knows where. I-I daresay that is why Mr Darcy is so angry. But I must leave at once—surely you can see it.”

But Jane did not see it. “No one knows of our…our kinship to Mr Pennywithers. Write to Uncle, certainly. Send it express. But there is no reason to make a mad dash for London. There is nothing to be done immediately, and Mr Darcy may calm, especially as soon as his cousin returns or is discovered.”

“Mr Darcy has declared Pennywithers his enemy. Thus, I am his enemy,” said Elizabeth. “I cannot stay in his home under false pretences, not for one more minute. You, of course, may remain.”

“How? What excuse is to be given? Any reason you might have requiring an immediate departure would necessarily affect me as well. It would look decidedly odd if I stay without you.”

“I will think of something.”

“Lizzy, please, I beg you. Just a few more days! Please stay. Please!”

Jane had never asked anything of her before, not like this, and it broke Elizabeth’s heart to deny her. Yet, her sister did not know the excruciating strain of having a man with whom one was almost in love, become—right before her eyes—a vindictive tyrant who would ruin an innocent person. Only imagine if he were to discover the reporter himself is in his home! He would probably have me hung from the rafters.

She had always understood how he would feel if he knew, had she not? Georgiana and Sarah would have to be told, but they already knew of the connexion, and she would never put them in the awkward position of trying to intervene. They could perhaps decide what ought to be said, and help her think of an excuse that would explain Jane’s decision to remain.

“I cannot,” she almost whispered.

Jane looked at her with disbelief and hurt in her wide, blue eyes. Without a word, she turned and walked away.

“Jane! Jane!” she called, but her sister continued walking, even making a shooing motion to indicate just how much she did not want Elizabeth to follow her.

Elizabeth thought she might do it anyway, but she was wearing slippers which were not at all designed for a brisk pace outdoors; as she started quickly forward, she slipped and fell on the grassy lawn, landing hard on her posterior. She fought the urge to cry, although she was not truly hurt; while it might be a relief to proclaim her despair to the skies, she had no time for it. By the time she picked herself up, she found she could no longer see Jane within the trees and plantings.

Sighing, Elizabeth dusted off her now grass-stained dress. She would ask for her things to be packed and change into clothing more suitable for travelling. Since it appeared Jane would not be accompanying her, she could go by post, if she had not already missed it. Should Jane return by the time she was ready to depart, of course, she would try and speak with her again.

From her hiding place,Miss Bingley smirked. “Ooh, that had to be painful,” she muttered, happily watching as Elizabeth slowly picked herself up. It was as if a giant hand had fallen from the sky and swatted her to the ground.

At the seminary for young ladies she had attended, they had preached that an eavesdropper only hears ill. Yet another dusty old proverb proved completely wrong.

Now it only remained to find Mr Darcy, and ensure he knew just who it was that he had welcomed into Pemberley. Charles will have to drop his interest in her sister at the same time, once Mr Darcy pronounces judgment upon the family. I can hardly wait!