Page 14 of A Maid of No Consequence (Pride and Prejudice Variation)

FAR FROM EXPECTATIONS

M r Darcy had made it a point to ride near the carriage and let Elizabeth know they were nearing the village of Lambton. Her stomach did a strange turn. Could she really be just around the corner from her beloved sister?

Houses and buildings came into view, and Elizabeth tried to remember how Jane had described the cottage in which she lived.

She knew it was not far from the town centre.

The carriage slowed and came to a stop near a small bakery.

Mr Darcy dismounted his horse, and came and opened the carriage door.

He helped Elizabeth down; every time he touched her hand, even with gloves on, a flurry of butterflies took flight within her stomach.

When she looked up into his face though, hoping for a smile, she saw his slight frown.

“What is it?”

“I fear there may be a slight delay in seeing your sister.” He nodded towards the cobbler shop; she turned her head and saw a sign on the door.

After helping Sarah down from the carriage, Mr Darcy walked with Elizabeth to the shop where they read the sign’s dismaying news: ‘Family emergency. Shop closed for the foreseeable future’.

“Oh dear!” Elizabeth’s gloved hand went to her mouth. Jane is not here? Where is she?

“Before we worry for naught,” said Mr Darcy, “I will enquire with Mrs Davies at the bakery. She often knows the town news, and I daresay, she will know where the McHenrys might have gone.”

“But a family emergency?” whispered Elizabeth. Her thoughts settled in a dark fearful place, unsurprising since the profound loss of those she once held so dear.

“Please do not fret. I will only be a moment.”

He turned to go towards the bakery, but she followed behind him. When he turned and looked at her, Elizabeth said quickly, “I should like to know as soon as possible, Mr Darcy.”

He nodded. “Of course.” He opened the door for her.

A heavy woman of indeterminant years was behind a small wooden counter. It was clearly her home, made into a bakery, with a few tables and chairs arranged neatly and wildflowers in small vases in the centre of each table. No doubt the family lived above the shop.

“Mrs Davies?”

The woman had been busy folding napkins. When she saw who had addressed her, she gave a start, and put her hands up to straighten her bonnet, tucking loose strands of her hair within it. “Oh, Mr Darcy! It is you, sir!”

“I hope your family is well, Mrs Davies. I am here to enquire after the McHenrys. We had sent word of our impending visit, but there is a sign?—”

“Ah yes! They left a fortnight ago. Mayhap more. I heard there was a death in the family.” Elizabeth gasped, drawing the woman’s attention. Mr Darcy was quick to offer an introduction between the two ladies.

“This is Miss Elizabeth Bennet, the sister of Mrs McHenry. I have escorted her here as the Bennets are old and dear friends of the Darcys.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Mrs Davies,” Elizabeth said warmly. “Is my sister well?”

“Ah yes, your sister! Such a lovely woman! She is very well. Just the best neighbours, they are! They have been summoned north, where his McHenry kin live.” Mrs Davies turned towards a door which seemed to lead to the kitchen.

She raised her voice to a very high shrill, “Mr Davies, do you remember where the cobbler is off to?”

A man covered almost from head to toe in flour entered from the room beyond and made a small bow. “Mr Darcy, sir. They are in Scotland, sir. Grievous news of his father’s father, I believe. Took sick and then…” He shook his head.

“Oh, that is terrible.” Elizabeth might not know the McHenry family, but she knew loss. She looked up at Mr Darcy. “This must be why I have not received a letter in an age. I am very sorry for Mr McHenry and all of his family.”

Mr Darcy gave her a sympathetic look before turning to thank the baker and his wife.

Elizabeth had stopped listening. As the understanding that her sister was away from home settled into her mind, a new worry emerged. What was she to do now? She had nowhere to go and could not trespass further on Mr Darcy’s generosity and ask him for employment. But what could she do?

As they turned to exit the shop, he leant close and in a gentle voice, said, “I can see you beginning to fear for your sister. All will be well, I promise.”

She turned her head to smile her gratitude, when Mrs Davies interrupted with one more piece of news to share. “Mr Darcy, congratulations on your engagement, sir!”

Mr Darcy stiffened, his expression turning blank. Feeling a pulse of horror wondering whether Mrs Davies had mistaken her relationship to him, Elizabeth cringed, overwhelmed to think of the rumours that must constantly vex poor Mr Darcy. And what of her own reputation?

“Engagement, Mrs Davies?” enquired Mr Darcy.

The lady looked between him and Elizabeth. “Mr Davies’s friend sends us the London newspapers from time to time.”

“And what did you read?”

She reached under her counter and retrieved a broadsheet.

In three strides Mr Darcy was at the counter; he took the newspaper and thanked the lady before bowing slightly and walking out the door. Even Mrs Davies must have seen he did not smile as expected of a man who was newly engaged.

Engaged? But to whom? Elizabeth had avoided asking about his personal life when they sat on the bench in Hyde Park.

The thought had crossed her mind, but Mr Darcy had not said anything of a wife, a betrothal, or an attachment of any kind, and for reasons she did not examine, she had feared learning of one. And now, an engagement?

She caught up to him on the street, seeing a veritable thunderstorm on his countenance. It matched her own inner turmoil. “You are engaged?”

“Let us discuss?—”

“You are engaged and you did not bother to speak of this to me? I am travelling with a man who is spoken for. What will your betrothed think?”

“I am not engaged.”

“But the newspaper?—”

“A problem, yes, but one I can manage, I assure you.”

“I should never have come!” She put her hand to her forehead. “What was I thinking? This is madness!”

He silently handed her yet another of his pristine handkerchiefs; she took it and quickly turned away. “Where would you have gone?” he said quietly. “Leaving London was the right choice, you must know that.” He offered his arm. “Come, we will discuss this at Pemberley.”

“I cannot come to Pemberley!” She tried keeping her voice temperate, but she was finding it exceedingly difficult.

“You will come as my guest.”

“I cannot do that!” The tears of frustration would not cease, as she recognised her own stupidity. “I am unmarried and you are engaged and this entire scheme is madness!”

She looked back towards the vacant cottage that was her sister’s home. “I had not thought this through in my haste to escape. Now what am I to do?”

“What you will do—what you must do—is leave it to me. Escorting you to Lambton was my idea, and I take full responsibility for your welfare, Miss Bennet. I ask only that you trust me in this. All will be well. ”

The carriage stopped at the first full view of Pemberley.

Darcy dismounted, handing his horse to one of the servants that had been in the preceding carriage, and opened the door for Elizabeth and Sarah.

He first handed Elizabeth out, Sarah following close behind.

He smiled when he saw the awestruck looks on both of their faces and heard their gasps of delight.

He could attest to the effect this view could have on a visitor.

Even as he turned that corner hundreds of times in his life, he was always struck by the beauty of his family estate.

“I could not help but want to show her off.” He had often wondered how it might feel bringing Elizabeth to his home. The excitement and pride he felt at this very moment, was more than he had anticipated. He could feel himself holding his breath, until she spoke in return.

“Pemberley is glorious,” Elizabeth said, eyes wide as they roamed the vista, with picturesque lake, resplendent gardens, and expansive groves of trees at each side.

“Thank you. I have a certain fondness for…her beauty.” Darcy could barely swallow, so struck was he by Elizabeth’s features, and her evident admiration for the place he loved nearly as much as he loved her. If only she had consented to be his! Then all this would be hers as well.

He reminded himself that it would take time, and he would need to be patient.

Then he remembered the newspaper announcement binding his name to Anne de Bourgh.

Fixing it would take some effort, but surely the master of a great house could figure out how to dislodge himself from a premarital muddle and misrepresented engagement.

He turned to the beauty on his right thinking, surely, she is worth every effort.

But first things first. “We will be at Pemberley shortly. After a very long three days of travel, let us go and find some rest and refreshment. No doubt, Mrs Reynolds will arrange tea and the best of Cook’s treats to welcome you. We will have you and Sarah settled in soon.”