Page 23 of A Cleverly (Un)contrived Compromise (Love’s Little Helpers #3)

CHAPTER 23

J ane had waited until she thought Elizabeth slumbered and cried herself to sleep again.

Although Elizabeth had gently prodded her sister to confide her woes, Jane remained frustratingly silent. Likely she did not want to burden Elizabeth, who was supposed to be happy and in love. It was like Jane to hide her troubles, and Elizabeth was worried.

She must speak with Mr. Darcy. She had hoped their path would cross after services the day before, but it had rained too hard to consider walking. There were whispers and smiles as Mr. Brown read the banns. Her friends and neighbors were delighted for her, and Elizabeth felt it even more necessary than before to appear the blushing bride-to-be. To be truthful, it was getting easier.

Walking up the rise where she had last encountered Mr. Darcy, she paused and looked as far as the fog permitted. Wrapping her arms around herself, she spun in a circle. She would freeze if she stayed here. Quickly deciding on her next step, she increased her pace down the path leading her to Netherfield Park.

She pressed on, cold, doubtful, and feeling a little foolish for persisting. Who was to say her path would cross with Mr. Darcy’s? He was a sensible man and was, no doubt, at this moment sipping chocolate or coffee by a warm fire with his sister. It was what Elizabeth ought to be doing.

But the sound of Jane’s tears echoed in her ears, propelling Elizabeth forward. She must learn why Miss Darcy believed she had a claim on Mr. Bingley’s affections when she was far too young and insecure to consider marriage to one so far beneath her station.

A sharp gust slapped Elizabeth’s wrap against her face and plastered her skirts against her legs. Her bonnet strained against the ribbons tied under her chin. A violent shiver shook through her. Maybe this was not the best idea.

Jane's tears… steaming hot chocolate...

Elizabeth gritted her teeth for one last look about her. She needed to have a private conversation with Mr. Darcy, but that would not be possible if she caught her death and had to take to bed.

Reluctantly, she turned around toward Longbourn. When she heard hoof-beats behind her, she believed her mind only played tricks on her.

* * *

Darcy refused to return to Netherfield Park until he gained control of his ill humor. He was expected to call at Longbourn, but he would make miserable company.

His horse flicked his ears and tugged at the reins as though to suggest that he was not too happy in Darcy’s company either.

“Grumpy brute,” Darcy hissed under his breath. Another tug and nod.

“I meant the remark for you, ungrateful beast.” Preferring his own thoughts to this useless exchange with his horse, Darcy considered his next step.

As yet, Bingley displayed the fickleness of an unsteady character. Darcy held every hope of his youthful friend growing into a steadier version of himself—Bingley was only twenty-two—but maturity was not gained overnight. Not in most cases.

Darcy remembered himself at twenty-two. He was hardly the master of himself. Those were carefree, pleasurable times until loss and grief cast their dark shadow over Pemberley. His father had died unexpectedly, thrusting upon Darcy the responsibilities he had been brought up to shoulder. He had not been prepared to undertake so much while he was yet in shock.

The weight of responsibility would have crushed Bingley… changed him. It had changed Darcy. Peers—people he had thought he could trust—had attempted to profit from his inexperience. Overnight, Darcy had lost his youth to emerge a serious, suspecting, resentful master and guardian. Darcy could not wish that experience on any man.

If not for his family’s loyal servants, the damage would have been far greater. From the least scullery maid to his father’s own secretary, they would retire in Darcy’s service. He would lay down a fortune in pensions, but that kind of loyalty could not be bought, and Darcy considered it his duty and privilege to reward them. They had acted not just as servants, but as friends.

What kind of friend would allow Bingley, a man he claimed was his close friend, to treat his future lightly? The man did not approach decisions with the care necessary contemplation required to avoid unfavorable consequences for himself and his eventual bride. Bingley would be safe with Georgiana—with Darcy’s guidance.

While Darcy had observed nothing in Miss Bennet's character to make him doubt her sincerity, he could not be so certain about her family. Mrs. Bennet made no effort to disguise her wishes. She would make Bingley miserable. Mr. Bennet would not take any request for advice seriously. This was a disastrous pairing when Bingley was not yet knowledgeable enough or decisive enough in his own right. Furthermore, the Bennets would limit his society in London.

On the other hand, Bingley was ill-prepared to mingle with the upper circles to which Georgiana was born.

Darcy shook his head. He valued Georgiana’s future and Bingley’s friendship too highly to be governed by doubts. His original plan had a solid foundation. They both required more time.

Urging his horse into a trot, Darcy cleared the top of the hill.

There stood the one person he most desired to see. Was she real? He blinked several times to make certain the lady walking in the fog was not an apparition. “Elizabeth?”

She spun around, hands at her throat. “Mr. Darcy?”

That she addressed him so formally still irked Darcy. Confidence could not be forced, but they were now past the first reading of the banns. She might at least use his Christian name.

His groom appeared behind him, and Darcy dismounted to walk with Elizabeth. She must be chilled to the bone. The least he could do was to walk her home.

She wrapped her fingers around the crook of his arm. He pressed them more tightly against his side. For warmth.

“I was hoping our paths would cross,” she said.

“Really?” He had hoped the same, or he would have chosen a different path.

“I wished to inquire about your sister. Is she… timid by nature?” The way she hesitated made Darcy think that was not the question she had wished to ask.

“Georgiana has always been shy, though until this last summer, she never had reason to doubt the affection of those closest to her.” He sighed. It was difficult to utter a compliment to the same lady with the power to inflict the greatest hurt to his sister, but fair was fair. “I thank you, and Miss Bennet, for attempting to put her at ease.”

Elizabeth leaned against his arm, her closeness more effective than a blazing fire. “It is no wonder she clings to you as she does. You are all she has, and she must fear that I aim to take you away from her.”

Her insight was a revelation to Darcy. Was that how Georgiana felt? It explained her possessive behavior.

She peeked up at Darcy from under the rim of her bonnet. “I saw how Miss Darcy looked at Mr. Bingley.”

His jaw clenched of its own volition.

She chuckled. “If I had a protective older brother, I imagine he would react as you do. Instead, I am blessed with younger sisters who suffer a new girlish infatuation every week at least.”

Thank goodness Georgiana was nothing like the youngest Bennets.

Darcy must have concealed his distaste, for she continued. “I know you would never approve of a match between your sister and Mr. Bingley. For one, the difference in station alone would be a formidable obstacle for any family in the first circles. Furthermore, I hardly think you so unjust as to wish Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst as sisters for her. They would eat Miss Darcy alive, using her connections to their own advantage while making her life a misery."

They were the same objections he and Richard had discussed at length. Darcy remembered he had shot down each one. Yet hearing the arguments coming from Elizabeth unsettled him. How would she fare if the same objections were applied to her sister?

"You believe Miss Bennet would fare better?" Darcy asked.

"Undoubtedly!”

Darcy was taken aback. “I understand her manners to be shy, much like Georgiana.”

“Jane is modest, but she is unwavering in her values and affection.”

Just as Darcy hoped Georgiana would be someday.

Elizabeth continued, “She has had a lifetime of managing difficult females and keeping peace in our household. She is so gentle about it, nobody even suspects her strength."

Darcy frowned. He had not considered that. But Elizabeth had yet to address the disparity in rank. “What of his family’s connections to trade? Your mother’s connections aside, you were born into the gentry. To marry less than a landed gentleman would be considered marrying down.”

Elizabeth sucked in a breath. "There is something I wish you to understand. It might help explain why Mama is so... insistent. Why station is not as important to us as it is to others."

Darcy looked down at her. This ought to be interesting.

"When Jane was but fifteen, she went to stay with our aunt and uncle in London."

"The Gardiners?"

Her gaze jerked up to meet his, her eyebrow arched.

If she assumed he would take exception to her relatives in trade, he would prove her wrong. He kept his expression indifferent. "I look forward to meeting them when we are in London."

Her eyebrows pinched together in a moment of visible confusion, and it was all Darcy could do not to exclaim in triumph. He had surprised her. His chest might have puffed out a bit.

“Aunt thought to treat Jane to new gowns and some of the entertainments in town before her coming out. You see, our mother insisted she come out at sixteen, and Jane did not feel ready."

A kind, thoughtful offer. “I do hope they treated you to a time in London as well?” He caught the surprise in her expressive eyes, and his coat buttons strained. There is more where that comes from, Elizabeth.

“I think they will be pleased to make your acquaintance.” She did not answer his question. However, it satisfied him to know her family would be pleased to meet him. Most people were, but Elizabeth was not just anyone, and she obviously held her Gardiner relatives in special regard.

She wrapped the ribbon from her bonnet around her finger. "During that visit, a gentleman in town, a young man from a fine family, fell in love with Jane. His father had been an associate of Uncle's before he made his fortune and severed all connections with trade so that his children might be accepted in more gentle circles."

"Like Bingley."

"Yes, just like Mr. Bingley. He called every day, his attention to Jane growing and giving her hope. She was young and gave her heart fully. A proposal seemed imminent. Even our aunt thought so." She stopped and sighed.

Darcy saw where this story ended and wished to spare her the hurt from the memory. "He did not propose."

"Uncle wrote to Papa, explaining the advantages of such a connection and adding his own recommendation of the gentleman’s character. Unfortunately, Mama learned of it, and she insisted that they join Jane in London to meet the young man."

Which put paid to the gentleman’s affections, Darcy surmised. Elizabeth angled her bonnet so he could not see her face, but he still caught a glimpse of her red cheeks.

He placed his free hand over hers, turning to face her. "Then I am glad for your sister's sake that the young man revealed his weakness of character when he did. If a man is truly in love, nothing would cause his affection to waver."

Her eyelashes fluttered, but her gaze eventually met his. Softly, she said, "Not even the lady's objectionable family?"

The instinct to wrap her in his arms made Darcy cautious. They were talking about Miss Bennet’s weak suitor, not his own feelings.

Resuming their slow pace down the path, Darcy said, “"Especially not that. What mother would not desire to meet the young man who might become her son-in-law rather than trusting her young daughter's inexperienced heart with the advice of others?” Darcy had gone against his instincts, trusting his aunt's recommendation of Mrs. Younge as a companion for Georgiana. He could not think of it without a twist of regret in his stomach. Never again.

"Do you mean that?"

Darcy had the distinct impression that Elizabeth was not merely referring to her sister. Whatever he said right then was important to her. His inclination was to take his time replying in order to weigh his words adequately. But he sensed her impatience. Her sigh alerted him that unless he spoke quickly, she would look away and the moment would be lost.

"Marriage is a scary prospect for a young lady. She leaves the security of her family, who know her more intimately than anyone else, for a gentleman full of promises and good intentions.” Darcy’s breath was quick, his speech quicker. “If his love is based on superficial matters such as her beauty or her fortune, his affection cannot be expected to stand through the trials they will have to face together."

"You speak very confidently on the subject."

He had spoken rather passionately and at greater length than was his custom. But he did feel certain. It was the example he had been taught. "My mother and father loved each other."

"It must have been wonderful to be raised in such a household." The wistfulness in Elizabeth’s tone pinched his heart.

"It made the loss of them harder. I wish Georgie had known them together." She never would have fallen for Wickham’s smooth trickery had she known what true, inseparable love looked like.

"I think I understand her infatuation with Mr. Bingley. It makes perfect sense."

Darcy jerked his head to face her. "You do?"

"Of course. She lost her mother, then her father, and now her only brother is engaged to marry."

"I would never leave her," Darcy recoiled.

"I would never expect you to. However, as you and I both know all too well, circumstances can change in the blink of an eye. Your mother and father could not have wished to leave either, but they could not prevent it." She chewed on her bottom lip. "I see that I shall have to do my best to reassure her that I do not intend to replace her in your affections.”

Before Elizabeth mentioned it, Darcy had not considered the possibility of Georgiana being anything but happy at the idea of gaining a sister at Pemberley. Elizabeth had, and solely for the benefit of his sister. The realization stunned him.

Resting his hand on top of hers again, feeling his skin tingle and burn at the contact, he said a heartfelt, "Thank you."

He had thought the favor he was doing in raising the Bennets' social standing and the stability he offered to them enough, but Elizabeth's kindness toward his little sister far surpassed the connections and security he would give her. He would simply have to try harder to be kinder to her family in turn. Perhaps she would value his exertion as much as he cherished hers.

She smiled at him. “Good, then may I ask you a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Do not let Mr. Bingley break Jane’s heart.”

Her request punched the air out of Darcy’s lungs.