17. Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

March 30, 1812 Hunsford, Kent Elizabeth

D ear Miss Bennet,

How do you fair in Kent? I do apologize for my tardy correspondence. My studies have kept me occupied in a serious manner for far longer than I prefer. As the season progresses, my uncle is more and more occupied with Parliament, and so I am more and more at my leisure. My uncle is very attentive to my studies, as is my brother. They both toil endlessly with my companion’s assistance to see that I am ‘finished’ when I come out. I confess, I do not see the need for so many accomplishments. Most ladies barely use them once they marry. But my relations insist that such knowledge will aid me as I enter the marriage mart and I must bow to their superior understanding.

How have you fared when faced with Lady Catherine? She is a gorgon, but do not tell my brother I said so. I am terrified to be in her presence; she constantly berates me to practice my instrument more and interrogates me about history and French. I think she does so because she never took the opportunity to demand such things of her daughter. Anne is not illiterate, but she lacks the accomplishments my aunt thinks a lady of breeding needs.

My brother is at Rosings Park now, along with my other guardian, Colonel Fitzwilliam. Have you happened to meet them yet? My brother’s yearly pilgrimage to Rosings Park is another reason why I went to Matlock House. He will return soon, I hope, and then I can return to my own home and chambers.

I hope my brother will take me to the theater when he returns. Twelfth Night, my favorite Shakespeare play, is to be performed. Have you ever seen it? Perhaps we might persuade Fitzwilliam to allow us to attend in the Darcy box. It has a marvelous view of the stage, and it is very comfortable.

Please write to me soon with all your adventures in Kent.

Sincerely,

G. Darcy

Elizabeth smiled as she read Miss Darcy’s letter. Most would find it odd that the two ladies began their correspondence so soon after making each other’s acquaintance. Indeed, most discouraged such familiarity before coming to a better understanding of another, but her friendship with Georgiana had been as easy as anything. The young lady’s sweet temperament engendered affection and caring. Mr. Wickham must have misunderstood Georgiana’s shy nature and labeled it proud. There could not be any other explanation. She understood his confusion. Had she not thought Georgiana’s reserved manner to be proud upon their immediate introduction?

“Miss Bennet.”

She turned and noted Mr. Darcy’s approach. His horse did not make an appearance and she wondered if he had left it at Rosings Park or had tied the beast to a tree somewhere.

“How do you do this morning?” He came to her side and bowed.

“I am well, sir, and you?” She tapped Georgiana’s letter in her palm, hoping to tamp down her irritation at being interrupted. Had she not told him this was her favorite walk in an effort to deter his presence?

“I, too, am well. I have nearly finished Rosings’s books. They are a mess as they usually are, and I am always eager to put the task behind me.” He sighed and held out his arm. She took it out of politeness, but rested her arm lightly as she could manage. Her letter she carried in her other hand.

“Does Lady Catherine not employ a steward?” she asked curiously. Her father had not done so until recently, but Mr. Bennet’s books were never in a state of disarray as Lady Catherine’s apparently were.

“She does, but she does not trust the man to do his job.” He shook his head. “He keeps accurate records of everything by month, knowing that I shall come and repair the damage Lady Catherine inflicts. It would be far easier if my aunt would allow Mr. Timms to record everything as it occurs, but we have yet to convince her of that.”

“I am sorry you are in such straits.” Her words held a hint of sarcasm. Yes, his misfortunes are great, indeed.

“I thank you for your concern, but it is manageable.” He cleared his throat and changed the subject. “Are you to return to Meryton immediately when you depart, or will you stay in London for a time?” He hurried to add, “My sister wrote to me asking if you might attend our box at the theater.”

Elizabeth smiled. Miss Darcy had not wasted time approaching her brother with her request. “I, too, have a letter from Miss Darcy stating the same thing.”

He looked at her curiously. “I had not realized you were corresponding.”

Elizabeth immediately grew defensive. “She requested it before I left London,” she said. “It is not so odd. We were immediately comfortable with each other, and she desired to maintain the connection.”

“I do not disapprove.” Mr. Darcy spoke fervently, seeking to reassure her. “Georgiana has few real friends. I know enough of you that you do not befriend people to gain something for yourself. You are loyal and kind; just the sort of person my sister most needs.”

She blushed at his flattering words. “You have sketched my character accurately,” she replied. “I am exceedingly loyal to those I love, and when one of them is wounded, I take such affront personally.” She spoke of Jane, hoping he would understand her words and know contrition, while acknowledging it may very well be that Mr. Darcy had no understanding of the pain his friend had caused Jane.

“I am pleased that such sentiments are directed at my sister. Georgiana is the dearest girl in the world and her tender heart has been abused far more than her age warrants.” She glanced at him. With his brow furrowed and a scowl on his face, he looked quite fearsome.

He is very faithful to his sister and those he esteems. His character appeared just as Mr. Wickham had outlined; Mr. Darcy was perfectly capable of being pleasant with those he deemed worth the effort. He is being kind and amiable to me. Have I somehow surpassed being tolerable and become worthy of his condescension?

Her thoughts were tinged with bitterness, and she felt annoyed at him for ruining her morning. She struggled to refocus on the conversation. “I am sorry to hear Miss Darcy has suffered… She writes of her studies. Has she been studying with several masters?”

He nodded. “She wished most for a music master, though I insisted she have one for French and history as well.”

“She points out in her letter that ladies rarely need their manifold accomplishments when married. It is very astute of her to realize this; it is why I have always learned what interested me, not what society dictated necessary.” She dearly hoped he would raise an objection to her words; then she might put him in his place. When had she become so petty?

“Learning what one enjoys is not a crime, but it must come second to the knowledge needed for a successful life. I enjoyed learning about architecture as a boy, but my studies on the subject had to be put aside so that I could properly prepare to manage my estate.” His words were challenging, and she did not hesitate to rise to it.

“Did you learn Latin, Mr. Darcy?” Her words were sweet, and she glanced up at his face, smiling coyly.

“I did.” He eyed her warily. Good.

“And how often have you employed that knowledge since you came of age and gained your inheritance?”

He blinked and the slow grin that spread across his face made Elizabeth’s traitorous heart skip a beat. He is very handsome when he smiles. It is a shame his character is the opposite.

“ Touche, Miss Bennet. I confess I have rarely used my knowledge of history, either.”

“Have you used your knowledge of architecture?” she asked, curious to know the answer.

He contemplated her question and then nodded. “I have. Several times, in fact. There have been multiple bridges and other buildings on my estate to be repaired. My knowledge helped me discover two charlatans among the men hired to do the work.”

“You see, Mr. Darcy? There is no such thing as valuable or invaluable knowledge. What we learn shapes us, useful in the moment or not. You learned and used Latin when it was pertinent for you to do so. I imagine if you suddenly gained a scientific bent, that knowledge would once again become needed.”

“Your insights are as keen as usual.” He did not seem put off by her logic. Instead, she heard admiration in his voice.

The path opened to the lane before the parsonage. “I must leave you now, Miss Bennet. I enjoyed our walk and I hope to repeat the experience very soon.” He bowed, turning to depart.

Enjoyed our… Had he been looking for her when he came upon her? She had not thought that Mr. Darcy liked her company at all.

“Hello, Eliza.” Charlotte walked toward her from the opposite direction that Mr. Darcy had gone. “Was that Mr. Darcy I saw walking away?”

“Yes. He met me while I walked and escorted me back to the parsonage.” She did not wish Charlotte to know how unsettled she felt. There were ruminations swirling in her head and she needed time to think. She and Charlotte entered the parsonage and removed their things.

“He is very kind to do so. Did you enjoy your conversation with him?” Charlotte pressed.

Elizabeth shook her head. “You know I do not like him, Charlotte. Why do you insist on saying he admires me?”

She answered firmly. “A man does not stare at a woman he finds unappealing. Nor does he escort her back to her home. He is being more than barely polite and your insistence that he feels antipathy for you is incorrect.”

“What do you know about it? You, the pragmatic, practical Miss Lucas, have never been in love! You claim you do not need it for happiness, yet you insist that Mr. Darcy feels such sentiments for me, as if you can recognize it better than I can.” Elizabeth felt tears pricking at her eyes, and frustration gave way to guilt as she noted the distress her words caused Charlotte.

Her friend glanced down as if to compose herself. “You are correct, Eliza. I have never been in love. Be on your guard, lest you dismiss the most eligible man you will likely ever meet due to a petty grudge and wounded vanity.”

Charlotte turned and left the parsonage again without bothering with her outerwear. Elizabeth whirled and went to her chambers, locking the door behind her. The tears fell and she collapsed on her bed.

I am sorry, Charlotte, she thought to herself. All her frustration toward Mr. Darcy, toward Jane, and even toward her father for not stopping her sister’s marriage came forward and she wept. Oh, Jane. How can you bear it? How do you continue knowing as you do that your husband is a nonsensical man whom you could never truly love?

She spent the rest of the afternoon in her chambers, claiming a headache when teatime arrived. Her hunger drove her from her room for the evening meal, and she prepared her apologies to Charlotte. She had not meant to wound her friend, but her anger had caused her to be inconsiderate and rude to her dearest friend. Charlotte’s hurt had been apparent, and Elizabeth wished to make amends.

She chose a seat away from Elizabeth during dinner, and it was not until after the meal that Elizabeth managed to steal a moment of her friend’s attention. Jane left them alone for a few minutes as she attended to another matter and Elizabeth took the opportunity to make her amends.

“I am sorry,” she murmured as she sat next to Charlotte on the settee. “My words were harsh and cruel, and I ought not to have uttered them.”

“I will forgive you on one condition.” Charlotte turned to face her fully. “Remember my words when Mr. Darcy proposes. It is as I said this afternoon. Be on your guard lest you cast aside the most eligible man you will ever meet.”

“I will remember them, despite my belief that Mr. Darcy will never make me an offer.” Elizabeth thought the idea ludicrous. The gentleman from Derbyshire did not view her in such a manner. Friend of his sister, acquaintance from Hertfordshire; those appellations fit her. Lover, betrothed, wife? Those were reserved for another, more exalted lady.

Charlotte kindly changed the uncomfortable subject. “Have you noted that Jane appears under the weather?”

“I have.” Elizabeth latched onto the subject gratefully. “Shall we ask her about it before Mr. Collins comes in?”

“I think we ought to. If it is what I suspect, then I believe we have no reason for alarm.” Charlotte smiled smugly.

“You will not tell me?” Elizabeth huffed playfully and folded her arms as she had seen Lydia do countless times.

“Think, Elizabeth, and you will have the answer for yourself.” Charlotte shook her head in mock-censure. “And behaving as Lydia! I never thought you capable of such petulance!”

She replied with equal teasing. “I am as able as my sister to pout and complain. I simply need the proper inducement.”

“What are you two quibbling about?” Jane entered the room.

“Elizabeth wishes me to disclose my suspicions.” Charlotte looked hard at Jane, smiling a small smile.

Jane flushed and her hand went to her stomach. “I have not felt the quickening yet,” she whispered. “You must not tell Mr. Collins.”

“Jane.” Elizabeth’s strained whisper sounded unhappy, even to her own ears.

“I believe I am with child, Elizabeth. Are you not pleased? You will be an aunt, and, if it is a boy, Longbourn’s entail will end.” Jane’s serene smile did not seem feigned, yet Elizabeth could not believe her sister so sanguine about her state. She wished to protest, to rage, but there was nothing to be done. Marriages could not be dissolved easily, and Jane’s position as Mrs. Collins was for life.

“I am so pleased,” she said instead, struggling to imbue her words with genuine happiness. “Mama will be ecstatic.”

“It brings me joy to know these tidings will bring my mother so much pleasure.” Jane sat in her chair. “Shall I ring for tea?”

Elizabeth only nodded, glancing at Charlotte. Her friend’s gaze turned toward the door and Elizabeth turned to see what drew Charlotte’s attention. A shadow moved past the partially open doorway, and Charlotte frowned. She turned and met Elizabeth’s gaze. Concern marred her expression and Elizabeth comprehended her friend’s thoughts. Does Jane know her conversations are not private in her own home?