Author: Alix James
Category: Other
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“I say, it is the satisfaction of every father, to see his daughters merry in the company of honorable young men.” Sir William’s voice seemed cheerful, but there was a somber note in his tones that caught Darcy’s attention. He did not know the man well enough to inquire further, so he simply agreed.
“Of course,” Sir William continued, “if the gentlemen be not honorable, then the young ladies may not be so merry.” He looked down at his glass, as if surprised to see that it was empty, and then abruptly asked, “Er, forgive me, Mr. Darcy, but I understand you are the guardian of a young sister—much like a father yourself, perhaps. It is an honorable burden, is it not?”
Darcy watched Sir William’s expressions for a moment—the changeful twitch about his cheek, the forced smile, the faltering gaze. “Indeed. Both honorable, and a burden, as you say. Forgive me, Sir William, but is everything well?”
“Well? Oh! Yes, of course. Why, what could a man complain of in such a happy party as this? Come, Mr. Darcy, have I introduced you to Colonel Forster?”
Darcy submitted to the introduction, and even succeeded in not noticing Elizabeth Bennet as she laughed over something with George Wickham, her younger sister, and another of the militia officers. He did not notice her again when he passed back across the room, ten minutes later, in a calculated effort to avoid Caroline Bingley’s path.
So successful was he at not noticing Elizabeth Bennet that he never heeded when Collins ended his card game and stalked him from the rear until he had nearly run into Darcy’s elbow. “Oh! I beg your pardon, Mr. Darcy!” he cried. “I could not be satisfied with myself if I had remained all evening in the same room without seeking a moment to apprise you of Lady Catherine’s latest missive to me, in which she detailed all her doings and concerns.”
Darcy nodded tightly, his eyes roving discreetly to the door before fastening back on Collins. “I trust her ladyship is well.”
“Oh, eminently so! Why, if only everyone were blessed with such superior health and fortitude. I cannot help but think her general beneficence and virtue have been repaid with a sturdy constitution. ‘Tis a pity our dear Miss de Bourgh continues to suffer, though.”
“My cousin is still unwell?” Darcy asked, with a hitch in his voice that almost no one would have noticed.
Anyone who knew Anne and Lady Catherine well knew that Anne’s “delicate health” was little more than an excuse for her mother to control her habits and environment, without the trouble of pursuing a proper education for her. The upbringing and presentation of a young heiress required masters, journeys to Town, dozens of wardrobes, countless society calls and dinners. However, a girl with the reputation for ill health required only a husband, and Lady Catherine had determined long ago that Darcy was to fill that role.
“Our dear, suffering Miss de Bourgh!” Mr. Collins lamented. “She has not yet departed this world, but Lady Catherine reports that the fair lady cannot long endure her present affliction. She has begged—” Here, Mr. Collins lowered his voice and glanced conspiratorially about—“rather, she besought my influence upon you, when she learned that you were in the neighborhood of Meryton. If it pleases you, Mr. Darcy, would you kindly consider a journey to Kent yourself to bring condolences and the sorts of tender mercies that are always acceptable to families anticipating grief?”
Darcy thinned his lips. “I have had no such word from my aunt. I wrote to her, you may be assured, but the reply I received yesterday carried no request of the kind.”
Collins looked perplexed, but then his face cleared. “Ah, surely it is merely that I had a letter only today. Perhaps you will receive another letter from her imminently. Her ladyship is nothing if not steady-minded and consistent to her purpose once it is fixed. I should have gone to condole with her myself, despite her self-sacrificial goodness in permitting me to come to Longbourn at such a time, but, as I said, she is ever steady to her purpose.
“In her magnanimous wisdom, she has encouraged me to bring an olive branch unto my relations, giving my assurances that I am, and shall remain, the very embodiment of brotherly love and charity. Of course, her ladyship recommended that I should seek to remedy that pain which my very existence brings upon my fair cousins—that of inheriting their home one day—and to that end, I have selected from among them one who shall become the companion of my future life. Would that all men could be so fortunate and generous in their marital aspirations as I, and, I daresay, your own good self, Mr. Darcy.”
Darcy felt a tingle down the back of his neck as Collins beamed in satisfaction. The ridiculous man was even bold enough to turn his head and direct a long, significant look at a particular lady… one with dark satin hair and eyes that sparkled like the stars.
“If you will excuse me, Mr. Collins,” Darcy said in a low voice. “I must… please excuse me.”
10
Two days passed, during which Elizabeth took every opportunity to escape the house and the cloying presence of Mr. Collins. It was no longer sufficient to claim a solitary ramble, for Collins would insist on providing male escort, and before she knew it, her quiet walk would become a five-person outing. No, the better course was to set out to see Charlotte, or to take a basket round to a tenant on behalf of her mother—anything with some purpose attached that might deter her cousin’s company.
Today, her mission had been the latter. A short walk to the Brown cottage, where Young Robert would be glad of the assortment of treats for his six-year-old son, recovering from a badly sprained ankle. The basket was duly presented and gratefully received, and Elizabeth was curtsying her farewell when she asked, “Forgive me, Mr. Brown, but I had hoped to greet your mother and father today. Are they not at home?”
Robert Brown’s face took on a peculiar shade. “Nay, Miss.”
Elizabeth waited for more, but an explanation did not appear to be forthcoming. “Well, then perhaps I shall come again day after tomorrow. I do enjoy visiting Mrs. Brown.”
Brown shook his head. “No good, Miss. Don’t know when they be comin’ back.”
“Truly? Why, where have they gone, if I may ask?”
The farmer twisted his mouth into a reluctant frown. “Can’t say, Miss.” He glanced back at his young son, who reclined inside the house, and then nodded in farewell. “Thank you, Miss.”
Elizabeth stood puzzled outside for another moment, then gave up. Odd. Mr. and Mrs. Brown were in good health, and not entirely past work, though their grown son had taken over the tenant farm. They had no other family that she was aware of, and no cause to go elsewhere. Certainly, any number of simple explanations might have served, but was not Robert terribly suspicious in his manner? Elizabeth went away with a troubled heart, pondering what could have become of that worthy couple.
She walked home by way of the main road, her thoughts heavy. So diverted was she that she was late in noticing the rider approaching from behind. She moved to the side, but rather than passing on, the horse slowed and drew alongside her.
“Good afternoon, Miss Elizabeth,” said a masculine voice.
She winced before looking up. That was the last voice she had wished to hear.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Darcy.”
He hesitated, appearing to think the matter over, then halted his horse and dismounted. “I trust I may accompany you?”
“You may,” she replied, for she could hardly do otherwise. They walked on, with hardly more than a nod and a word of acknowledgment for each other. Mr. Darcy’s gloved hands flexed two or three times, and Elizabeth watched from the corner of her eye as he repeatedly seemed to draw breath to speak, then reconsidered.
At last, he spoke an uncomfortable, “It is a fine afternoon for walking.”
“Is that all you have to say, Mr. Darcy?”
He met her gaze. “Why do you ask?”
“You do not seem to be deficient in any way, and I have heard it said that you are, in fact, quite clever. Yet, each time we are in conversation, you begin with some triviality which, I am sure, can
be of no more interest to yourself than it is to me.”
“Very well, then, what would you like to speak of?”
She looked up and down his person. There was too much mud on his boots to presume his business had been in Meryton, yet his attire was too formal for the hunt field. “Perhaps I shall ask you to answer my curiosity. What brings you out riding today, Mr. Darcy?”
“Very likely the same thing that brings you out walking, Miss Elizabeth.”
“Indeed? You were taking baskets to Mr. Bingley’s tenants?”
A ghost of a smile flickered about his mouth. “I see I have presumed too much—however, you would not be far from the mark in your suspicion. I was primarily riding for pleasure, but I do bring letters from town for those who cannot collect their own.”
“That is very generous of you, sir. I trust they will be grateful.”
His expression tightened for an instant as if he did not care to answer. “Indeed. And what of the recipient of your goodwill, Miss Elizabeth? I hope no one is ill.”
“Only a youth with a sprain.” Her brow dimpled in thought. “But I am greatly puzzled. ‘Tis a family well known to me, you see—the Browns. I often speak with the elder Mrs. Brown, but just now, both father and mother are both away at present for no reason I can discern.”
“Brown…” Mr. Darcy’s cheek twitched. “Indeed. Surely, it is nothing of concern. Perhaps they took other work for a short time, and will come back when it is ended.”
“Perhaps,” Elizabeth mused. “But when I asked after them, their son’s behavior was very strange. If they had only taken work, would he not have said as much?”
Mr. Darcy pursed his lips. “Perhaps it was a matter requiring discretion.”
She tilted her head. “Peculiar, is it not? They have only one son, and Young Robert’s wife died last year. There is no family to behave scandalously, and in my lifetime, I have never known them to travel beyond Meryton. I think I shall ask my father what he might know of it.”
The gentleman’s eyes seemed far away as he merely nodded.
“You do not think my curiosity improper, sir?” she challenged.
“Improper? No, no—rather, it is admirable that a lady should take an interest in the welfare of others, but I do urge you not to pursue the matter too vigorously.”
“Why ever not?” she asked.
“Well… if there had been some trouble, or if Robert and Mary Brown required some help, I am certain the son would have made mention of it. As he did not, it seems safe to presume that the family desires some privacy.”
Elizabeth stopped him by holding up a hand. “I never gave their names, sir. How do you know them to be Robert and Mary?”
He blinked. “Oh, a trifle, really. When Bingley first came to Netherfield, a tenant farm had come vacant, and he was asking about for characters—references, that sort of thing. We spoke with a family by the name of Brown, so I presumed them for the same.”
She nodded slowly and resumed walking. “You have an excellent memory, sir.”
“I do,” he answered matter-of-factly. “It is not always a blessing, Miss Elizabeth.”
“Then do you recall every person you have met in Hertfordshire?”
He looked curiously over at her. “I doubt it. Is there someone in particular I should remember?”
“Oh—” she made a show of carelessness by flipping her hand and looking off to the horizon. “Merely a friend. She was at the Assembly, but of course, you did not dance with her, so it is unlikely you would remember her.”
His gaze became steady, and his voice dropped. “I remember a good many people from that night with whom I did not dance—some to my regret.”
His look was so intense, so heated, that Elizabeth could scarcely meet his eyes without shivering. It was a struggle to look away and keep her voice light. “Then perhaps she did not escape your notice after all. She is a friend of mine—not a close friend, you understand, but someone with whom I am well acquainted. They say she also has gone away, but the answers as to where and why are much the same as Young Robert gave me today.”
Mr. Darcy walked several steps in silence, swinging the crop in his left hand in cadence to his thoughts. “By your tone, I shall infer that you think it is more than an innocent holiday.”
“Of that, I am perfectly certain. Tell me, sir, have you any memory of my friend Sarah Long?”
The flesh about his eyes tightened, and he looked up to the road. “I cannot say that I do, Miss Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth watched him—the way his mouth worked and the way his fist knotted as he walked—and she discovered something.
Mr. Darcy was a terrible liar.
11
“No, Darcy, you must not answer Mama’s letter. I know you—you could not even write a convincing lie if the king himself ordered it.”
Darcy was pacing the width of the small garden patch outside Anne’s cottage, fumbling with his hat and trying with all his might and main not to say something he could not retract. “I cannot ignore her requests. What would she think then? I tell you, there would be no surer way to bring her directly to Netherfield than for me not to answer her letters. She knows very well where to find me, for her own parson has seen to that. What would you have me do?”
Anne stared stubbornly at the ground. “I will be gone to Plymouth in another fortnight. It would take Mama at least that long to grow uneasy enough to travel here.”
Darcy whirled about in his pacing. “And you would leave me to face her, to make the explanations for your decisions? I am not afraid of her, but it is disgraceful, Anne. She is your mother, and she deserves better.”
Anne balled her small fists. “What she deserves is to not be in control for once. She deserves to be set down for a moment, to be forced to see that she shall not always have what she wishes. You do not know what it has been, Darcy!”
He raked a hand through his hair. “I know enough. I know I did not wish to yield any more than you did, but I will not lie to her, Anne. I have already been forced to deceive others, and I shan’t sleep for a month over it.”
“Others? What others? Is there talk of me being here?”
Darcy replaced his hat. “Not you specifically, but there is talk.” He nodded toward the house. “Your ‘friend,’ Miss Long—I just encountered a lady who is asking after her, as well as your Mr. and Mrs. Brown. What shall I tell her?”
Anne lifted her shoulders. “Tell her whatever you like. Miss Long says her aunt will report that she has only gone to Town to see another relative, and I cannot think anyone whose gossip would harm me will be inquiring too long or hard after Mr. and Mrs. Brown.”
“You do not know Elizabeth Bennet.”
“Elizabeth who?” Anne asked, her brows raised.
“Nobody,” Darcy grumbled and turned away.
“Oh, I can see that she is not ‘nobody,’ or you would not be so troubled about lying to her. Who is she, Darcy? Someone of interest?”
He sighed and turned back. “I will thank you not to distract me from the pertinent facts of the moment. Your presence here cannot continue to go unnoticed, and worse, it will have lasting effects on those about you.”
She crossed her arms and pouted faintly. “You think me selfish.”
“So you are,” he retorted, but gently. “So have I been, and I am beginning to see it more clearly than I have ever done.” He looked down and idly flicked a bit of dried mud from his breeches. “Richard comes in just a few more days. Perhaps he will help us think of an answer I have not already considered.”
“Ah, Miss Elizabeth!” George Wickham came out of Longbourn’s front door and bowed from the waist as Elizabeth walked up the drive. “I had begun to fear I would not have the pleasure today.”
She smiled warmly. “Lieutenant Wickham, I should have grieved over missing you, but as that is no longer necessary, perhaps you will linger another moment before you go.”
“I would never dare disappoint a lady, particularly not one who
m I called a friend.” He put out his elbow for Elizabeth to take, and they began a slow turn about the garden. “And where have my friend’s rambles taken her today?”
Elizabeth flicked her eyes back toward the house with a secretive smile. “Away from Mr. Collins,” she whispered.
“Ah!” he laughed. “Then perhaps I am not sorry that I nearly missed you, for I would not stand in the way of your escape for all the world. But tell me, have you seen or done anything interesting today? I dearly hope your life is less dull than my own.”
She teased him with a quirk of her lips and an arched brow. “I saw Mr. Darcy.”
“Oh! Then you are to be pitied,” he lamented. “Was my old friend in a fair or foul humor today?”
“Neither, I do not think. He seemed…” She frowned. “Distracted.”
“Indeed? Well, Darcy is a man with many cares.”
“And he has been such a man since long before I knew him, but today he was more unfocused than I have seen him.”
“Really? Pray, tell me how.”
Elizabeth pondered for a moment. “I cannot say, truly, but for some while, I have had the impression that he is trying to conceal something. That impression grew stronger today, that is all.”
Lieutenant Wickham whistled. “You should know that outright deception has not been among Darcy’s faults. Certainly, he is not an open book, and I daresay he has concealed many things while comforting himself that he is acting rightly, but a bald-faced lie is not in his nature.”
“Which is why he ought not to attempt it. Perhaps he ought to count it a mercy that he does not rely on cards or other such games of chance for his living.”
He laughed. “You might be surprised, Miss Elizabeth. Men of Darcy’s station must keep many secrets to preserve their status—some are harmless little omissions, but others would astonish and horrify you if you knew of them.”
“Such as?”
“Oh, I could never rob a lady of her peace of mind by speaking of them. But tell me, what was it that gave you this odd impression of my old friend today? What specifically did you feel he would not speak of?”